Loved Quotes
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I don't care how much you love each other, if you have secrets, it'll never work. That's why she's your loved one, because it's the love of one. Togetherness, you are one.
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Sinners are attractive because they are loved; they are not loved because they are attractive.
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I loved her. I loved her with a something so fierce I couldn't even name it.
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Mind who you love. For that matter, mind how you are loved.
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In the space of one heartbeat to another I loved you and I was lost to you
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Gertrude Jekyll, like Monet, was a painter with poor eyesight, and their gardens - his at Giverny in the Seine valley, hers in Surrey - had resemblance's that may have sprung from this condition. Both loved plants that foamed and frothed over walls and pergolas, spread in tides beneath trees; both saw flowers in islands of colored light - an image the normal eye captures only by squinting.
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Lady, for indeed I loved you and I deemed you beautiful, I cannot brook to see your beauty marred Through evil spite: and if ye love me not, I cannot bear to dream you so forsworn: I had liefer ye were worthy of my love, Than to be loved again of you - farewell; And though ye kill my hope, not yet my love, Vex not yourself: ye will not see me more.
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“I am doing the best I can. I am hoping I am good enough. I am holding you close, as close as I can, hand cradling your head and breath on your hair, my whole body curved around yours, sheltering you as best I can, trying to remember that I cannot keep you safe, but I can keep you loved.”
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All I wanted was to be loved for myself.
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You couldn't just pick and choose at will when someone depended on you, or loved you. It wasn't like a light switch, easy to turn on or off. If you were in, you were in. Out, you were out.
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Jesus was a friend and not a judge. He loved the sinners as much as He loved the little ones. That man was love and not an act
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To be loved, you have to be nice to people, everyday. But to be hated, you don't have to do squat!
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You will trust God to the degree you know you are loved by Him.
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Everybody has the blues. Everybody longs for meaning. Everybody needs to love and be loved. Everybody needs to clap hands and be happy. Everybody longs for faith. In music, especially this broad category called jazz, there is a stepping-stone to all of these.
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A home isn't just a roof over our heads. A home is a place where we feel loved and where we love others. It's a place we belong. Love is what makes a home, not the contents inside the house or the number on the door. It's the people waiting for us across the threshold, the people who will take us in their arms after a ad day and kiss us good night and good morning everyday for the rest of our lives.
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I have sometimes wondered if the greatest desire of man is to be known and loved anyway.
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Sorry? Sorry? Sorry isn't enough. Every. Single. Thing. I ever loved is beyond my reach now. Everything I ever wanted. Everything I ever was.
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I love Aretha and I've loved her all my life. I think she's an incredible songstress, obviously. She consistently has had this incredible voice. I remember when she was singing gospel in her father's church.
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I always encourage people who had a loss of any kind that you find something to focus on that takes you out of that horrific sorrow. And you have to go through it. No way out but through in the grief. But don't remain in the grief. You know, find something that you can nurture as you would that being that you loved.
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My peak? Would I even have one? I hardly had had anything you could call a life. A few ripples, some rises and falls. But that's it. Almost nothing. Nothing born of nothing. I'd loved and been loved, but I had nothing to show. It was a singularly plain, featureless landscape. I felt like I was in a video game. A surrogate Pacman, crunching blindly through a labyrinth of dotted lines. The only certainty was my death.
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Maybe, in the final analysis, they saw me as something I wasn't and I tried to turn them into something they could never be. I loved them all but maybe I never understood any of them. I don't think they understood me.
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Stay strong. Stay true to yourself and to who you are because there is community out there. It may not be in your town or perhaps even in your family, but you are wanted and you are loved and there are places in the world where you will be safe and supported.
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I loved that song "Don't Tell Me", but man, it was dark. That song did nothing for Van Halen.
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I used the second year of my MFA program to write a young adult novel and began pursuing picture books as well. I loved the economy of this art form, choosing, with pristine attention, the exact right words to tell the exact right story.
