unrequited-love

When you love something, you have to make sure it loves you back, or you'll bring about no end of trouble chasing it.

The world shrinks to include only two people, only one of whom -- the beloved -- has power. This inequitable distribution naturally breeds resentment and feelings of hopelessness that the dependent person dare not express for fear of alienating the necessary person even more.

And she never knew that he laid awake the whole time, his lips at her temple, his hand against her hair.Whispering her name.Whispering other words as well.

It is a terrible, wretched thing to love someone whom you know cannot love you. There are things that are more dreadful. There are many human pains more grievous. And yet it remains both terrible and wretched. Like so many things, it is insoluble.

The only thing sadder than unrequited love is being in a relationship where there is unrequited love.

She had the look in her eye when you kick and kick at the door and it doesn't open, when you write a boy letters and letters and he never loves you, not __il the day he dies. Not even then.

My heart is not brave or big. It is not cruel either. It is not strong at all. I keep it within this iron cage for a reason. Breathe on it wrong and I will die... Just go now. I would rather let you see my face, than my heart.

I wanted to say "don't leave me," but I'm so tired of begging people to stay.

All these years I've had a story in my mind, the story about us that never really existed. And because of that story, I've kept you framed up on the wall in a little box of nostalgic moonlight.

And this," cried Darcy, as he walked with quick steps across the room, "is your opinion of me! This is the estimation in which you hold me! I thank you for explaining it so fully.

Make me a willow cabin at your gateAnd call upon my soul within the house;Write loyal cantons of contemned loveAnd sing them loud even in the dead of night;Hallo your name to the reverberate hillsAnd make the babbling gossip of the airCry out "Olivia!" O, you should not restBetween the elements of air and earthBut you should pity me

I just stood there, like a grain of sand amongst amillion others on a beach.

It__ bad enough to love someone who don__ love you, but to have them told of it is perfectly awful. It makes me wild just to think of it. Ah, Fan, I__ getting so ill tempered and envious and wicked, I don__ know what will happen to me. - Polly

I loved her the moment I laid eyes on her.She blinked - her thoughts at the time were of anotherI could not win her heart20 years and many others who did.I would have been there,any time - anywhere. I was there, though all those gaps all her heartaches - all her pain and still it was never me. Never me, never would be be.20 years holding out - I may have the real thing in the next 20 years - still it will never be her.I am not dead and she is not a ghost.save yourself - you can no longer save me.

Though you are three times more beautiful than angels,Though you are the sister of the river willows,I will kill you with my singing,Without spilling your blood on the ground.Not touching you with my hand,Not giving you one glance, I will stop loving you,But with your unimaginable groansI will finally slake my thirst.From her, who wandered the earth before me,Crueler than ice, more fiery than flame,From her, who still exists in the ether__rom her you will set me free.

If there is pain, nurse it, and if there is a flame, don't snuff it out, don't be brutal with it. Withdrawal can be a terrible thing when it keeps us awake at night, and watching others forget us sooner than we'd want to be forgotten is no better. We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster than we should that we go bankrupt by the age of thirty and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to feel nothing so as not to feel anything - what a waste! (p. 225)

What, Kilorn?' I sigh. 'What,' he echoes, shaking his head. After a long second, something snaps in him. 'I know you don't feel the same way I do. About us.' I'm seized by the urge to smash my head against a rock. Us. It feels stupid to talk about, a foolish waste of time and energy. But more than that, it's embarrassing and uncomfortable. My cheeks flame red. This is not a conversation I ever wanted to have with him.

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 [met you]. You have been in every prospect I have ever seen since,__n 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 be displaced by 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.