Unrequited Love Quotes - Page 2

Perhaps a great love is never returned.

Maybe I was destined to forever fall in love with people I couldn’t have. Maybe there’s a whole assortment of impossible people waiting for me to find them. Waiting to make me feel the same impossibility over and over again.

Yet leave me not; yet, if thou wilt, be free; love me no more, but love my love of thee.

To know the piano is to know the universe. To master the piano is to master the universe. The spectrum of piano sound acts as a prism through which all musical and non-musical sounds may be filtered. The grunts of sheep, the braying of mules, the popping of champagne corks, the sighs of unrequited love, not to mention the full lexicon of sounds available to all other instruments-including whistles, scrapes, bleatings, caresses, thuds, hoots, plus sweet and sour pluckings-fall within the sovereignty of this most bare and dissembling chameleon.

There's nothing like unrequited love to take all the flavor out of a peanut butter sandwich.

She hated that she was still so desperate for a glimpse of him, but it had been this way for years.

I think there's nothing more painful for anyone than unrequited love. If you've ever had that kind of physical access to someone and then, all of a sudden, that is denied, and yet you're still in love with that person, it's very, very, very painful to be around that person in a certain way.

Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate! O any thing, of nothing first create! O heavy lightness, serious vanity, Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms, Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health, Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is! This love feel I, that feel no love in this.

I have to admit, an unrequited love is so much better than a real one. I mean, it's perfect... As long as something is never even started, you never have to worry about it ending. It has endless potential.

Molly works because, while Watson is ‘the audience’, Molly is every woman of a certain age sitting at home on the settee fantasizing about running their hands through Benedict Cumberbatch's hair. ...Also, I think most people have experienced the agony and the ignominy of unrequited love. I’ve never thought Molly was an idiot. She just really, really loves him.

Love Jo all your days, if you choose, but don't let it spoil you, for it's wicked to throw away so many good gifts because you can't have the one you want.

For me, a place unvisited is like an unrequited love. A dull ache that- try as you might to think it away, to convince yourself that she really wasn't the right country for you- just won't leave you in peace.

It's delicious to have people adore you, but it's exhausting, too. Particularly when your own feelings don't match theirs.

Unrequited love's a bore.

You like someone who can't like you back because unrequited love can be survived in a way that once-requited love cannot.

He could remember all about it now; the pitiful figure he must have cut; the absurd way in which he had gone and done the very thing he had so often agreed with himself in thinking would be the most foolish thing in the world; and had met with exactly the consequences which, in these wise moods, he had always foretold were certain to follow, if he ever did make such a fool of himself.

People do incredible things for love, particularly for unrequited love.

The way he looked at you. I got it then. He loved you, and it was killing him. He won't get over you, Clary, he can't.

I realised that one might love him secretly with no hope of encouragement, which can be very enjoyable for the young or inexperienced.

Life has now taught me that love for things, like all unrequited love, takes its toll in the long run.

Most of you have been where I am tonight. The crash site of unrequited love. You ask yourself, How did I get here? What was it about? Was it her smile? Was it the way she crossed her legs, the turn of her ankle, the poignant vulnerability of her slender wrists? What are these elusive and ephemeral things that ignite passion in the human heart? That's an age-old question. It's perfect food for thought on a bright midsummer's night.

I don't consider devotion to the past a form of snobbery. Just one of the more disastrous forms of unrequited love.

On the streets, unrequited love and death go together almost as often as in Shakespeare.

There were certain things that I watched, and I screened a series of period films as well, not because I wanted to copy those, because I wanted to be different. “Far from the Madding Crowd” was one I looked to because I thought it looked so good. “Doctor Zhivago.” Unrequited love is always a great thing. “Tess” was something I looked at, I thought Polanski got the period right.

Unrequited love is all right in books and things, but in real life, it completely sucks