“I ask the impossible: love me forever.Love me when all desire is gone.Love me with the single mindedness of a monk.When the world in its entirety,and all that you hold sacred advise youagainst it: love me still more.When rage fills you and has no name: love me.When each step from your door to our job tires you–love me; and from job to home again, love me, love me.Love me when you’re bored–when every woman you see is more beautiful than the last,or more pathetic, love me as you always have:not as admirer or judge, but withthe compassion you save for yourselfin your solitude.Love me as you relish your loneliness,the anticipation of your death,mysteries of the flesh, as it tears and mends.Love me as your most treasured childhood memory–and if there is none to recall–imagine one, place me there with you.Love me withered as you loved me new.Love me as if I were forever–and I, will make the impossiblea simple act,by loving you, loving you as I do”

“And I’ve fallen.So hard.I’ve hit the ground. Gone right through it. Never in my life have I felt this. Nothing like this. I’ve felt shame and cowardice, weakness and strength. I’ve known terror and indifference, self-hate and general disgust. I’ve seen things that cannot be unseen.And yet I’ve known nothing like this terrible, horrible, paralyzing feeling. I feel crippled. Desperate and out of control. And it keeps getting worse. Every day I feel sick. Empty and somehow aching.Love is a heartless bastard.”

“And I wondered if love was too weak a word for what he felt, what he’d done for me. For what I felt for him.”

“My soul sees its equal in you.”

“The only love that I really believe in is a mother’s love for her children.”

“I love you,’ he whispered, and kissed my brow. ‘Thorns and all.”

“Until one has loved an animal, a part of one’s soul remains unawakened.”

“Ah,” she cried, “you look so cool.” Their eyes met, and they stared together at each other, alone in space. With an effort she glanced down at the table.You always look so cool,” she repeated.She had told him that she loved him, and Tom Buchanan saw.”

“The problem, often not discovered until late in life, is that when you look for things in life like love, meaning, motivation, it implies they are sitting behind a tree or under a rock. The most successful people in life recognize, that in life they create their own love, they manufacture their own meaning, they generate their own motivation. For me, I am driven by two main philosophies, know more today about the world than I knew yesterday. And lessen the suffering of others. You’d be surprised how far that gets you.”

“Out of my thoughts! You are part of my existence, part of myself. You have been in every line I have ever read, since I first came here, the rough common boy whose poor heart you wounded even then. You have been in every prospect I have ever seen since – on the river, on the sails of the ships, on the marshes, in the clouds, in the light, in the darkness, in the wind, in the woods, in the sea, in the streets. You have been the embodiment of every graceful fancy that my mind has ever become acquainted with. The stones of which the strongest London buildings are made, are not more real, or more impossible to displace with your hands, than your presence and influence have been to me, there and everywhere, and will be. Estella, to the last hour of my life, you cannot choose but remain part of my character, part of the little good in me, part of the evil. But, in this separation I associate you only with the good, and I will faithfully hold you to that always, for you must have done me far more good than harm, let me feel now what sharp distress I may. O God bless you, God forgive you!”

“There is nothing that is going to make people hate you more, and love you more, than telling the truth.”

“To love is to recognize yourself in another.”

“Choose your love. Love your choice.”

“It’s the kind of kiss that inspires stars to climb into the sky and light up the world.”

“True love is the best thing in the world, except for cough drops.”