Headache And Love Quotes & Sayings

D'you mind if we get going?' said Strike, checking his watch. 'I told Elin I'll be over tonight.'

'No problem,' said Robin.

Yet for some reason - perhaps due to her headache, perhaps because of the lonely woman sitting in Summerfield among the memories of loved ones who had left her - Robin could easily have wept all over again. — Robert Galbraith

If I wasn't a designer, I would love to be a doctor. That is my fantasy, my dream. A doctor will give you a tablet if you have a headache, and I will give you a dress, and we both make you feel good. — Alber Elbaz

I've always felt that love is like Belgian chocolate, you know, the ones with brandy filling. You always say you're going to take one more bite, one more chocolate, and then, the whole box is gone. Perhaps the morning after, you might even get indigestion or a headache, and still, that evening, you might stop by the supermarket and buy another box because you simply can't get enough. — Scarlet Hyacinth

The promise, made when I am in love and because I am in love, to be true to the beloved as long as I live, commits me to being true even if I cease to be in love. A promise must be about things that I can do, about actions: no one can promise to go on feeling in a certain way. He might as well promise to never have a headache or always to feel hungry. — C.S. Lewis

I have a headache. If only I had a crown to put on! — Ljupka Cvetanova

Love is an incurable malady like those pathetic states in which rheumatism affords the sufferer a brief respite only to be replaced by epileptiform headaches. — Marcel Proust

Those who love God with their minds, even if it gives them a headache, are those whose hearts stay on fire. — Darrell W. Johnson

She sat down, grinned - and made her lip throb again. "I love you."
"Excellent news. You can prove it with lots of sex."
"We had sex a few hours ago."
"No, we made love a few hours ago - angels surely wept. I want sex for this job, as it's given me a buggering headache trying to straddle your far-famed line. I want mad sex, with costumes - maybe props - and an intriguing story line."
"Milking it, pal. — J.D. Robb

Love is like wine. To sip is fine, but to empty the bottle is a headache. — Julio Iglesias

We're even going to have sex in Heaven! How about that? Isn't that wonderful? Love all the girls you want to and all the handsome boys you want to and love all you want to and never get tired, never be impotent, never have a headache, never get hungry, never get sleepy, no pains, no VD, no nothin' except joy and praise and Hallelujah and lots of fun with your Bridegroom and all your friends and loved ones and the Family of God, His Family of Love, His children of God in Heaven when Jesus comes! — David Berg

He sang "I wish I weren't me" over and over again just flat of the key of love until he forgot the words and could only hum along. Everyday was the same. The same stupid smile on the same stupid boy. Until the days blurred into a haze and the boy dropped into a depression. Not a cool dark room and cigarette depression like the songs he loved, but one that felt like he was being smothered by a safe, suburban, monotonous blanket. Everything felt like a headache to the boy. Every face, every stupid stuttered sentence all wrapped up into the biggest headache ever. So the boy took an aspirin. And another and another and then went to sleep, lullabyed by hopes he would never wake up to. — Pete Wentz

Depression is like a headache or true love or any of those indefinable concepts. If you've never been there, you don't know what it's like until you're too far in to stop the process. — Tim Sandlin

Infatuation is like a drug that gives you the best high yet gives you the worst headache after. — Luke Blaise Pereira

Did you love well what you very soon left? Come home and take me in your arms and take away this stomach ache, headache, heartache. — Marilyn Hacker

Welcome to the wonderful world of jealousy, he thought. For the price of admission, you get a splitting headache, a nearly irresistable urge to commit murder, and an inferiority complex. Yippee. — J.R. Ward

Slowly, even though I thought it would never happen, New York lost its charm for me. I remember arriving in the city for the first time, passing with my parents through the First World's Club bouncers at Immigration, getting into a massive cab that didn't have a moment to waste, and falling in love as soon as we shot onto the bridge and I saw Manhattan rise up through the looks of parental terror reflected in the window. I lost my virginity in New York, twice (the second one wanted to believe he was the first so badly). I had my mind blown open by the combination of a liberal arts education and a drug-popping international crowd. I became tough. I had fun. I learned so much.
But now New York was starting to feel empty, a great party that had gone on too long and was showing no sign of ending soon. I had a headache, and I was tired. I'd danced enough. I wanted a quiet conversation with someone who knew what load-shedding was. — Mohsin Hamid

I won't say I'm sorry." He lifted his hand, skimmed his fingers over her cheek. "I wouldn't mean it. But I will say I love you. I've never meant anything more."
He drew her into his arms. She pressed her face to his shoulder and held on. "I've been so messed up."
"So have I." He brushed his lips over her hair, felt his world balance again. "I've missed you, Eve."
"I won't let the job screw this up."
"It doesn't. We manage that on our own." He drew her back, touched his lips gently to hers. "But it keeps things lively, doesn't it?"
She sighed, stepped back. "It's gone."
"What is?"
"I've had this low-grade headache for a couple of days. It's gone. I guess you were my headache."
"Darling. That's so sweet. — J.D. Robb

For misdirected love, the attainment of its object is, indeed, the best cure; but it cures as the guillotine cures headache. — Ivan Panin

All this security and prospects are different for different people. Somebody is happy playing music and with a less pay, somebody is secure in the corporate world with a high pay with headache. We have individual tastes, tastes are not universal. — Ravindra Shukla

Nothing has ever been so painful or delicious as being so close to him and being unable to do anything about it: like eating ice cream so fast on a hot day you get a splitting headache. — Lauren Oliver

Love was a bloody, fucking headache. — Anonymous

Do what you love, but be damned sure it's profitable. If you do work you love, but it doesn't generate income, your business will fail. If you do work you hate, but it generates income, your health will fail ... and your business along with it. If you can't do what you love and make it profitable, you've either got a hobby or a headache, not a sustainable business. Don't settle for anything less than passion and profit. — Steve Pavlina

Do you love him?"
Adam looked back at her and she squeezed his arm. With a small smile she turned to her brother. "Yes."
Braden shrugged and reached casually over to the kettle to turn it on. "About bloody time. You two were giving me a headache. — Samantha Young

Thank God! he said, and kissed her.
Kissing Mairelon was much nicer than anything she had ever dared to imagine, despite the headache. — Patricia C. Wrede

Rule, she's always been an Archer. Putting a rock on her finger is just a formality. No one doubts how much you care about her, or that you are committed to her and her alone. Screw her obnoxious family and whatever headache Mom and Dad might want to cause, your want her forever, ask her. — Jay Crownover

She wanted to remind him, whether his family was there or not. She wanted. And wanted. And endured in her wanting: the damp seat, the dry chicken, more champagne, the headache the champagne brought, the midges, the chat, his failure, no refusal, to look, look at me, I caused a thunderstorm with my passion and I sit here shaking under my skin and you don't notice because you're trying so hard not to notice, but all the people at the table there are really only you and me and you know it, the air is charged with it, it's a heat, a hot wind, and Marina and Seely are a sham next to it, Annabel ceases to exist, is simply obliterated in the gale of it, this isn't a fantasy, not my imagination, I can tell by the way you lift your fork, by the set of your jaw, by that sixth cigarette you are smoking me, or would if you could; but how long can we sustain it, how long till eruption, till the storm returns again and they can all see what it is, what it really is? — Claire Messud

That's not wise, Lin. I think wisdom is very over-rated. Wisdom is just cleverness, with all the guts kicked out of it. I'd rather be clever than wise, any day. Most of the wise people I know give me a headache, but I never met a clever man or woman I didn't like. If I was giving wise advice - which I'm not - I'd say don't get drunk, don't spend all your money, and don't fall in love with a pretty village girl. That would be wise. That's the difference between clever and wise. I prefer to be clever, and that's why I told you to surrender, when you get to the village, no matter what you find when you get there. Okay. I'm going. Come and see me when you get back. I look forward to it. I really do. — Gregory David Roberts

Glancing over at Jon, he wondered whether their shaky, three-part arrangement would survive the truth of Baltsaros's compulsion. He scratched the back of his head, turning the metal collar as he thought. If it did spell the end, would he be made to choose? The thought sobered him, and he drifted closer to Jon's side as they walked towards the brightly lit inn. Tom reached out and let his knuckles graze Jon's arm, a hidden touch just to ground him for the span of a heartbeat. Maybe Jon would turn a blind eye. Maybe they'd continue to live in denial that they both loved a fucking monster. Jon smiled at the brief caress, and Tom felt his chest get tight. Love was a bloody, fucking headache. — Bey Deckard

Did you love well what very soon you left? Come home and take me in your arms and take away this stomach ache, headache, heartache. Never so full, I never was bereft so utterly. The winter evenings drift dark to the window. Not one work will make you, where you are, turn in your day, or wake from your night toward me. The only gift I got to keep or give is what I've cried, floodgates let down to mourning for the dead chances, for the end of being young, for everyone I loved who really died. I drank our one year out in brine instead of honey from the seasons of your tongue. — Marilyn Hacker

I'm still furious with you," she murmured, kissing a line down his chest.
"Oh, God, please don't be furious," he choked out quickly. "Every female I know is furious with me. Rosalyn throws tantrums, and Charlotte hasn't spoken to me or written since you left." He moved his hands to unbutton her gown. "The morning I thought you'd sailed out of my life I started drinking and didn't stop until I'd finished two bottles. For three days I had a blistering headache, and Nedda couldn't for the life of her stop banging things." He groaned. "And I can't even begin to tell you about your sisters. — Adele Ashworth

Finally, to hinder the description of illness in literature, there is the poverty of the language. English, which can express the thoughts of Hamlet and the tragedy of Lear, has no words for the shiver and the headache. It has all grown one way. The merest schoolgirl, when she falls in love, has Shakespeare or Keats to speak her mind for her; but let a sufferer try to describe a pain in his head to a doctor and language at once runs dry. There is nothing ready made for him. He is forced to coin words himself, and, taking his pain in one hand, and a lump of pure sound in the other (as perhaps the people of Babel did in the beginning), so to crush them together that a brand new word in the end drops out. Probably it will be something laughable. — Virginia Woolf

Look I have somewhere I have to be and I don't particularly love that I have to go, but you freaking out and making a scene is not going to do anything other than piss me off. I hope you had a good time last night and you can leave your number but we both know the chances of me calling you are slim to none. If you don't want to be treated like crap maybe you should stop going home with drunken dudes you don't know. Trust me we're really only after one thing and the next morning all we really want is for you to go quietly away. I have a headache and I feel like I'm going to hurl, plus I have to spend the next hour in a car with someone that will be silently loathing me and joyously plotting my death so really can we just save the histrionics and get a move on it? — Jay Crownover