Heartache Quotes

I am a wall. I am a wall. I am a wall. I am a giant and I tower above you. I am a giant and I can't hear your voice. There is familiarity in this. I spent years like this growing up, my mother hovering over my every move, me responding monosyllabically, face blank, voice blank, heart blank. It is a coping mechanism and it is easy, if you are able to block out false promises of love with the understanding of what love has become.

Was I on something? Yes, love. The strongest drug there is.

It's our version of "me" that causes us the most stress and heartache. Which is why it comes as a relief to discover that this version is as transient as a cloud in the sky. Focus on the cloud and the result is uncertain. Focus on the sky and we discover clarity.

Before I can say anything, It dissolves in my throat And turns into tears.

I stood in your doorway this morningdreaming you’d turn aroundyou’d tilt your headyou’d softly whisper ”stay”or that you’d grab my armsto shake me while askingwhat the hell are we doingwe loveeach otherand this is not rightso we will make this worknow stay!You poured your coffee. Stirred the spoon like a crystal manwith your back to me and not a sound. the fridge humming elegies while the clock ticked onand the streets are so clean here people rushing to workand maybe I should be tooby nowat this agethis stagethis town.I will stand in that doorway dreamingfor many nights to come.

I'm grateful for past betrayals, heartaches, and challenges... I thought they were breaking me; but they were sculpting me.

Living with love for all humankind and worshiping nature’s immense beauty cures heartache and restores bliss. Respecting the splendor of nature awakens us to the beauty inscribing our own humanity.

Love is indeed its own hallucinogenic affecting the mind, heart and mood

It was just a lie that seemed real.It was a promise that was never meant to be true.The forever that had a deadline.It felt like falling in love, but it was falling in aheartbreak café!

You can obsess and obsess over how things ended—what you did wrong or could have done differently—but there's not much of a point. It's not like it'll change anything. So really, why worry?

She, who had never liked weddings, had allowed herself this fantasy. Her wedding day to Rory. A pretty church in Sussex, festooned with spring flowers. Rows of relatives, and her, Elle, floating down the aisle in cream silk to 'The arrival of queen Sheba', with eyes only for him... Rory, slightly rumpled, slightly scared, her love, her only one.But that wasn't how it had turned out. She knew she was OK, watching him, in fact she was happy for him, happy for Libby. But she couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the girl she'd been, who'd loved him so much. She was still dreaming somewhere, hoping this day would come.

What plagues people is not those who don't love them, but those who do.

He started to estrange her... And they became strangers Who knew each other's heart, So broken as they drifted apart.

Sometimes you just have to choose to let things go, to move on.

Once I was in the cold dim room, without furniture or carpet or rugs, only a dollhouse that wasn't as wonderful as the original, I opened the tall and narrow closet door and began my ascent up the steep and narrow stairs. On my way to the attic.On my way to where I'd find my Christopher, again...

I am not sad anymore. I am not weak or tender or quiet like you remember because the second you said those words and closed that door, I sold my soul to the part of myself I had buried in order to love you, to let you touch every inch of my rotten body, for I wanted to be touchable and not so strange. Not so sad and tender, like I’ve always been, they say, so I changed. And then your glances and words throwing knives with no return about my change of habits and ways of living, being, and I nodded and smiled, dying silently a little bit inside.

There are heartaches in life, painful things that happen and disappointments that steal away dreams.

Love doesn't leave you. Not all at once. It creeps back in, making you think it can be another way, that it can still be another way, and you have to remind yourself of the reasons that it probably won't be.

Her silence should be feared more than her words.

I didn’t thank God. Doctor Carter, do you think everything happened the way it did because I forgot to thank God? Do you think that God might somehow be as petty as I am?

I trusted you with my scarsBut now I'm bleedingSaid I was your moon and you were the starsYou're so deceivingI trusted you with my scarsBut now I'm bleedingThe wound is deep Blood is seeping

She pulls her hand away and Damian feels the sensation of falling, a somersault into a foreign abyss where a girl with eggplant hair and a hoop in her brow waits in the darkness.

Withdraw from talking about leaving someone behind. Just rekindle the friendship and love while you still have that moment together.

We hurt so much because we have lost a part of ourselves. If we have loved much, we must have given much also, and when everything's over, we feel as though we have lost everything.

Growing up seems easier for men, maybe because their rites of passage are clearer. They perform acts of bravery on the battlefield or show they're men through physical labor or by making money. For women, it's more confusing. We have no rites of passage. Do we become women when a man first makes love to us? If so, why do we refer to it as a loss of virginity? Doesn't the word 'loss' imply that we are better off before? I abhor the idea that we become women only through the physical act of a man. No, I think we become women when we learn what is important in our lives, when we learn to give and to take with a loving heart.

I find it funny that you could pass the same person on the street, in a store, or even in your neighborhood many times before actually meeting, thinking you’ve never seen them before, but when you are finally introduced, they seem to pop up everywhere.

There are often great lessons to be learned at the roots of stress, drama, and heartache. Don’t let the magnitude of the circumstance blind you to the value of the lesson.

It's just odd being a guest at the wedding. When you dreamed about it for so long, even if you we're a different person, and it was years ago. Sounds so stupid. I was stupid.

Is it just me, or is that guy the coolest boyfriend ever invented?" "It’s not just you." And there was that same dull pain-the one I get sometimes when I see the two of them together and realize I’ll never have that. I gave Amanda a smile. "He’s great. I’m really happy for you." And that was a hundred percent true. But it didn’t make it hurt any less.

Lips that have tasted the salt of tears always give the sweetest kiss.

Be free to do what you want to... before the time is through.

Underwater madness slipping into a haze, drowning and choking in repugnant nostalgic thoughts.

Miracle: to love more with an irreparable heartache

i hate that its my favorite thing to watch her, because it shouldn't be. It triggers all these what-ifs in my head, and my mind begins imagining things it shouldn't be imagining...

To be rejected by someone doesn't mean you should also reject yourself or that you should think of yourself as a lesser person. It doesn't mean that nobody will ever love you anymore. Remember that only ONE person has rejected you at the moment, and it only hurt so much because to you, that person's opinion symbolized the opinion of the whole world, of God.

Daemon clung to Surreal as she flew along the Winds, too weak to argue, too spent to care. His heart, however... His heart held on fiercely to Jaenelle's soft, sighing caress of his name.Everything has a price.

Sometimes... Reason and Love are met with a violent ignorance that even what's right gets lost. Our heart bleeds, but when does the blood shed end and the healing begin?

He flipped it open, gently tugged out the oft-touched photo and looked into a pair of familiar golden eyes. "She's happy, Andie," he whispered to his wife. Andromeda Quinn did what she always did. She smiled back at him, her beautiful eyes lit with that bright, golden light Harold Quinn loved so fucking much.

We live in a world that is beyond our control, and life is in a constant flux of change. So we have a decision to make: keep trying to control a storm that is not going to go away or start learning how to live within the rain.

It is becoming a bad dream-- in the daytime as well as at night. I see him nearly all the time and can't get at him, I mustn't show anything, must remain gay while I'm really in despair.

I answer the heroic question, 'Death, where is thy sting?' with 'It is in my heart and mind and memories.

Of all the heartache I will ever know, only some of it will be real. The rest, I will create.

Acknowledge that some moments are just plain awful―desperate and gloomy and painful and miserable and nothing at all but anguish. No truthful, cheerful thought in the world will fix it. So let me cry awhile. Don't try to find a sunbeam where a shroud of darkness encloses me. Let me mourn. Then, after the storm, when the tears have run dry and my eyes choose to open, I will look for your rainbow of hope.

We ruined each other by being together. We destroyed each other’s dreams.

Sometimes when a person does things to deliberately hurt you,All you need to do is shift atleast six steps back to observe the situation.If it is worth enduring, move two steps forward.If not, turn around and bless them with your back.

I have been loved," she said, "by something strange, and it has forgotten me.

I am done slowing down, giving people their time and space, letting them explore their options.

They should love you, just as you are. Parents should love their kids, right?" "You'd think so.

I would rather be destroyed by you than loved by anyone else.

The only time you ever really lose love is when you choose to let it go.

Sometimes you're going to have to let one person go a thousand different times, a thousand different ways, and there's nothing pathetic or abnormal about that. You are human.

That's what it felt like - that if I let a little of the hurt out, it would keep pouring out until I was a deflated balloon of a person, with a big monster of hurt in front of me.

Compassion nourishes the wilted heart.

She wasn't his girlfriend. She was his bubblegum girl--only fun until she lost her flavor.

I hoped with every ounce of my being that he would have the pleasure of knowing love and heartache in the way that I did. It might sound strange me wanting my five-year-old son to experience heartache, but without it I wouldn't have met his mother - a wonderful woman who taught me just how uncomplicated falling in love can be when it is with the right person, as well as highlighting the notion that timing is everything. If I had met her earlier in life I've no doubt that I'd have made a complete mess of the whole thing. I wouldn't have been ready to receive her love or to give the love I'd spent year accumulating.

In my sleep I have my nightmares, awake I have my thoughts, I am not sure which is worse.

At the end of your life, go out with a bruised-up, worn out heart that gave too much and loved too strongly and felt too fiercely.

I beg your pardon, but don’t cry for me, Argentina. A little rain’s bound to fall on those roses of yours—a dribble, a drizzle, a deluge. Think you’re the only one with wet flowers? A tear rolls down my cheek and some of the heaviness I’ve been carrying trickles out with it. Why me? Why pain? Why suffering? Why heartache? Because we’re a forgetful bunch, always busy with the daily grind. We overlook the good things until we’re confronted with the bad. There but for the grace of God...and all that jazz. Life is how we measure it. And people have different currencies. Some are tangible. Others are carried in your heart. Like the woman beside me, I’ve been dwelling on what I’ve lost, not what I have. Her riches vanished in a moment. Mine, thankfully, remain — wonderful childhood memories, a caring husband, a baby on the way. Wet roses? They’ll dry. Meanwhile, I’ll enjoy the rest of my garden.

If I seem to not want to be with him now, it’s only because love scares me too, more than manipulation, because love is a choice I make and not something forced upon me. I trust him, but I don’t trust myself. I must have time to trust myself so I can completely love him.He’s the grenade. I’m the grenade. We’ll blow each other to pieces… Together.

One lost easiest what one held in one’s arms— never what one left.