I heard what you said. I’m not the silly romantic you think. I don’t want the heavens or the shooting stars. I don’t want gemstones or gold. I have those things already. I want…a steady hand. A kind soul. I want to fall asleep, and wake, knowing my heart is safe. I want to love, and be loved.

The most loving parents and relatives commit murder with smiles on their faces. They force us to destroy the person we really are: a subtle kind of murder.

Any one reflecting upon the thought he has of the delight, which any present or absent thing is apt to produce in him, has the idea we call love.

If you loved someone, you loved him, and when you had nothing else to give, you still gave him love.

We shouldn't teach great books; we should teach a love of reading.

We ought to make love to such women as will feel a proper gratitude.

Oh, love is real enough; you will find it someday, but it has one archenemy - and that is life.

I love clothes, but I don't know what to put on myself, let alone others. I have a lot of help getting dressed.

I love acting, but being an actor for hire only serves so much, and then you want to fill your well up again and be charged by something else.

“The greater your capacity to love, the greater your capacity to feel the pain.”

I love that feeling of being in love, the effect of having butterflies when you wake up in the morning. That is special.

Making love in the morning got me through morning sickness. I found I could be happy and throw up at the same time.

Only a world without love strikes me as instantly and decisively more terrible than one without music.