Love Looks Like Quotes & Sayings

Aithinne smiles. "You know," she says thoughtfully, "your hair rather looks like an octopus." Then, as if to reassure me: "I love octopi."

And Aithinne is obviously a bit barmy, but nobody's perfect. — Elizabeth May

"I'm going to tell myself that you're just cranky because Chloe's at the mall with Tori, and you weren't allowed to go. I could point out that if you did go, you'd be even crankier, and you'd make everyone miserable. Especially me."
"You wouldn't have to go."
"Sure I would. I'd need to run interference when Tori asked how a new shirt looked and you told her the truth."
"I'm honest. Honest is good."
"Not when it comes to girls and clothes. You need to gauge their reaction first. If they aren't happy with it, you suggest they try something else, even if it looked fine. If they love it and it looks like hell, you say it's not bad and hope they try something else." — Kelley Armstrong

Love is scary because it pulls you in with an intense force, a supermassive black hole, which looks like nothing from the but from the inside challenges every reasonable thing you know. You lose yourself, like I lost myself, in the warmest of annihilations. It makes you do stupid things
things that defy all logic. The opting for anguish over calm, for mortality over eternity, and for Earth over home. — Matt Haig

But guys like Mason McCarthy stayed glued to your brain long after they had left you behind. They charmed their way into your heart and pants with their smooth words and sinister good looks and then ditched you the second you were deemed old news.

Still, I wanted him. That was the scariest part - not his assumed womanizing, not that he could disrupt my life and tear my heart into tiny pieces, but that I would let him. — Amanda McGee

Oooo, what is that?" Red yelled when she saw the palace. "That's Buckingham Palace," Alex said. "It's where the monarchy resides." Red was mesmerized. "What a stylish and tasteful place! Look at that beautiful statue out front of it in the middle of the street! That looks exactly like the statue I wanted to build in celebration of Charlie's and my wedding!" Red left the others and flew down to the gate. She peered through the bars at the palace in delight. She had to hang on to the bars tightly because the fairy dust was making her drift back to the sky. One of the palace guards on duty saw Red and stared at her in disbelief. It wasn't every day he saw a floating woman at the gate. "Yoo-hoo!" Red called to him. "I just love your hat! Please tell the current monarch that Queen Red of the Center Kingdom says hello - " Conner flew to the gate and pulled Red's hands off the bars. "Red, come on. You're gonna get left behind! — Chris Colfer

I look like a hobo?" "Worse," he said. "Like a sad hobo clown." "And you like it?" "I love it." As soon as he said it, she broke into a smile. And when Eleanor smiled, something broke inside of him. Something always did. — Rainbow Rowell

This one guy, the worse guy in the music. The Yanni man. You know Yanni? First of all, anyone who looks like a magician and doesn't do magic, I don't like. I don't even like magic, I hate it. But I love the word, "Ta-da"! I love that word! I don't get to say it, right? I never do any magic. You just cant go around walking, "Ta-da!" "Ta-da!" "Ta-da!" The only time I can say it is when I do something really stupid or surprising. Like if I go out all night drinking and hitting strip clubs and I come home and I still got some money ... "Ta
da!" I thought I was broke. Why does my jaw hurt? — Dave Attell

Moreover that which is called, far too harshly in certain cases, the ingratitude of children, is not always a thing so deserving of reproach as it is supposed. It is the ingratitude of nature. Nature, as we have elsewhere said, "looks before her." Nature divides living beings into those who are arriving and those who are departing. Those who are departing are turned towards the shadows, those who are arriving towards the light. Hence a gulf which is fatal on the part of the old, and involuntary on the part of the young. This breach, at first insensible, increases slowly, like all separations of branches. The boughs, without becoming detached from the trunk, grow away from it. It is no fault of theirs. Youth goes where there is joy, festivals, vivid lights, love. Old age goes towards the end. They do not lose sight of each other, but there is no longer a close connection. Young people feel the cooling off of life; old people, that of the tomb. Let us not blame these poor children. — Victor Hugo

Romantic enthusiasm lifts the good aloft and removes it into the dim distance of the incomparable and unattainable; at the same time it portrays the good in a human countenance out of which it looks at us and we can look back at it, face to face, in admiration and ecstasy, and stretch out our arms towards it. Thus the moral good is represented in human, and at the same time superhuman, form; it is of our own kind, and yet above our kind; it confronts us, but makes no demands. IT is not really a standard and lacks the power to issues commandments. Both are given at once: the ethical which one would like to love; and the passive, the romantic, in which one wants to live. As a substitute for constant activity demanded by the ethical commandment, we have adoration in which the romantic impression of the moment in vented, and yearning which need only admire and enjoy but not achieve anything. — Leo Baeck

A part of me looks at life from a dismal perspective, not unlike Woody Allen and Larry David. But I don't want to look at life like that. It's bad enough that I have to think it. What works for me is writing against that view. There is God, there is love, there is greatness, there is a plan, and there is beauty. — Corbin Bernsen

Each day, we feel more distant from each other, more alone, all while being surrounded by millions. Each day we watch as our city turns into a desert, one in which we are all lost, looking for that oasis we like to call "love". The more we wait, the more everything and everyone looks like a grain of sand escaping between our fingers before vanishing into the wind. How do we find something or someone we can no longer see, but which is right there before us? And how do we hold on to what is most precious in life? — Gabriel Ba

I'm a pretty forgetful guy, but everything she says, I remember. I remember what colour her hair ribbon was when we met on the first day of fifth grade. I remember that she loves orchids because they look delicate but aren't, really. From a single postcard she sent me when traveling with her family two summers ago. I remember what my name looks like in her handwriting. — Adi Alsaid

My father looks at me the way he is looking at my mother in one of their wedding pictures: like he can't believe that she is with him now and will be with him forever, that she has chosen to be with him out of all the men in the known world. — Francisco X Stork

The men on the show have it easy, in part because men on TV have uniforms: There's the jacket, in black, blue, or gray. There's the shirt, the pants. I can never tell whether Tom is gaining or losing weight beneath his boxy suits. He always looks the same. Tom also has the benefit of being Tom, a decorated veteran of the restaurant kitchen. Like so many chefs, he is practiced at the taste-of-this, taste-of-that eating regimen. I'm the one who has to look like a glorified weathergirl, with formfitting dresses and all, which, don't get me wrong, I love - at least until I don't. — Padma Lakshmi

The arch of heaven looks like an
upside-down cup, under which the wise
wander in vain. May your love for your beloved
be as great as the love of the bottle for the glass.
Look, how one gives and one receives, lip against
lip, the precious blood of the grapes. — Omar Khayyam

Hands grab me, steady me. I jerk back, but they are surprisingly gentle. He doesn't smile as I turn to see his face. He just stands there, letting me inspect him. He's tall with a wide forehead and dark blond hair that's cut short. His green eyes are deeply set beneath that forehead. His lips are wide and rugged like the rest of him. His hands have huge knuckles like he's a boxer or arthritic or hits walls. He looks like he did when he pulled me out of the car, but stronger, taller somehow. He must be completely healed. He looks my age and he looks good, like the guy in high school that everyone, even the teachers, fall in love with. — Carrie Jones

So far away, the one I love.
What sky are you under tonight?
What wind will my song ride...
To carry my voice to you?
Tell me, winds,
Where he may be.
Tell me, winds,
What star he looks upon.
My ears are like two white seashells,
Listening for dawn to come. — Miyuki Miyabe

I thought we were a real love relationship. I did. I was very invested in love, but it was just this long long sex thing that could end at any moment because after all, it's just about getting off. Almost all the time, you tell yourself you're loving somebody when you're just using them. This only looks like love. — Chuck Palahniuk

Pigpen walks around the table and as he nears Violet, she stumbles back, but he's faster. With one long step, he engulfs Violet in a hug and lifts her into the air.
She slaps his shoulder, "Put me down, you fucking asshole."
"She's back!" Pigpen rocks her like she's a doll and then gently deposits he back on the ground. He places his hands on either side of her face, looks into her eyes with that crazy-ass smile on his face, then kisses the top of her head. "It's good to have you back, kid."
Violet smacks his hands off her face. "Get off me."
He winks. "Love you, too. — Katie McGarry

She told him ... how her heart had fairly skipped a beat when she'd seen him standing in the middle of the road dressed as a true Highland warrior.
"If I hadna been in love wi' you already, I'd have fallen in love wi' you then."
He grinned, his whiskery face unbearably bonnie even with its cuts and bruises. "So you like the sight of me in a pladdie, aye?"
"Aye
and wi' braids in your hair." She leaned down and kissed him. "But I think red paint looks silly. — Pamela Clare

Why? Don't you know why you love me?"
"I know that I'm happiest at your side," I said fervently. "I know that when we're apart, my heart is with you, when we disagree I still want you near. It's like I was made for you, amira, but I don't know why."
"Kashmir . . ." She laughed a little in disbelief. "That's . . . that's what love looks like."
"But is it only a trick of Navigation?" I asked, nearly pleading. "And if so, what is truly mine?"
"I am."
Her words took me by surprise. She said it so simply - so quiet, so true. Only two words, three letters, one breath, but never had a promise held more meaning. She turned to me then, and in her eyes, I saw not oblivion, but infinity, and the stars were not as bright as her smile. — Heidi Heilig

Sometimes, when he looks at me, I can swear something in him has changed. The glances are more intense, his eyes seem molten and charged. Sexual.
And I like it. I love it. I want it. I want there to be this change, for this to be a thing because then maybe, maybe I would act on it. Maybe I would take that chance and turn him into something more than a friend. — Karina Halle

When I get ready for an event, I always look at myself in the mirror and say, 'I look like a transvestite,' I love it. — Sofia Vergara

On the very tip of his tongue is his Firerancher. Thin as tissue paper, it looks like the moon in the daytime sky. Suddenly love is looming over the car, as big and invisible as the ghost mountains of the Comobabi range. I smile at him and turn up the radio with my toes. — Jo Ann Beard

Those slight words and looks and touches are part of the soul's language; and the finest language, I believe, is chiefly made up of unimposing words, such as "light," "sound," "stars," "music" - words really not worth looking at, or hearing, in themselves, any more than "chips" or "sawdust." It is only that they happen to be the signs of something unspeakably great and beautiful. I am of opinion that love is a great and beautiful thing too, and if you agree with me, the smallest signs of it will not be chips and sawdust to you: they will rather be like those little words, "light" and "music," stirring the long-winding fibres of your memory and enriching your present with your most precious past. — George Eliot

The powerful changes that happen in the life of a disciple never come from the disciple working hard at doing anything. They come from arriving at a place where Jesus is everything, and we are simply overwhelmed with the gift. Sometimes it seems as if God loves us too much. His love goes far beyond our ability to stop being moral, religious, obedient, and victorious, and we just collapse in his arms.
Out of the gospel that Jesus is the only Mediator between God and humanity comes a Christian life that looks like Jesus, a life Jesus would recognize. It's a life that looks like Jesus, because Jesus does everything, and all we do is accept his gift. And to accept his gift, we have to give up trying to be Jesus.
Out of that discovery comes a Christian life that is free from the tyranny of unnecessary adjectives - even my preferred modified, Jesus-shaped - and simply follows after the One who loves us beyond words or repayment. — Michael Spencer

Fear,' he whispered. 'There is nothing quite like it. I love how it looks, I love how it feels, I love how it smells. And I especially love the sound of it.' I felt his tongue on my cheek. 'I even love the taste of it — B.A. Paris

I don't know what it means to be a star because I don't really look at myself like a star. I look at myself as a regular person, just like everybody else. I just love what I do. — Kirko Bangz

He was curiously calm. Men were supposed to go mad with grief when their children died, he knew. They were supposed to tear their hair out by the roots, to curse the gods and swear red vengeance. So why was it that he felt so little? The boy lived and died believing Robert Baratheon his sire. Jaime had seen him born, that was true, though more for Cersei than the child. But he had never held him. "How would it look?" his sister warned him when the women finally left them. "Bad enough Joff looks like you without you mooning over him." Jaime yielded with hardly a fight. The boy had been a squalling pink thing who demanded too much of Cersei's time, Cersei's love, and Cersei's breasts. Robert was welcome to him. And now he's dead. — George R R Martin

He's not your type."
Peabody's face clouded exactly as it had when Eve had rejected the perfume. "How come - I like looking at his type."
"Sure, but try to have a conversation with him." Eve dipped her hands in her pockets and rocked back on her heels. "Guy's in love with himself and figures every woman who gets a load of him has to go moony eyed - just like you're doing. He'd bore you to death in ten minutes because all he'd talk about is himself - how he looks, what he does, what he likes. You'd just be his latest accessory."
Peabody considered, watching as the gold-tipped Adonis posed at the check-in counter. "Okay, so we won't bother to talk. We'll just have sex."
"He'd be a lousy lay - wouldn't give a damn if you got off or not."
"I'm getting off just looking at him." But she sighed when he took out a small silver-backed mirror and examined his face with obvious delight. "It's times like this I hate it when you're right. — J.D. Robb

[Lizzie Bennington to a reporter who has asked for her opinion about Jack Archer's celebrated thighs.] When you come back from a set down and bring the match to a final set tiebreak and are a point away from winning the match, only to have what looks like an extremely fit player call a time out because of a cramp and then watch that player sit back and casually converse and laugh while you do your best to keep your mental focus and your body moving so you don't grow cold and cramp yourself, I hardly think you'd concern yourself with his burgeoning manhood, let alone his thighs! — A.G. Starling

If you've never known love, you never know where it is, you don't know what it looks like or it sounds like, you look in the most unlikely places to find it. — Marlon Brando

What is he doing?" she finally whispered.
Bill appeared behind her and flitted around her shoulders. "Looks like he's sleeping."
"But why? I didn't even know angels need to sleep-"
"Need isn't the right word. They can sleep if they feel like it.Daniel always sleeps for days after you die." Bill tossed his head,seeming to recall something unpleasant. "Okay,not always. Most of the time.Must be pretty taxing,to lose the one thing you love. Can you blame him?"
"S-sort of," Luce stammered. "I'm the one who bursts into flames."
"And he's the one who's left alone. The age-old question.Which is worse? — Lauren Kate

This plan looks like foolishness to earthbound philosophers. How can man comprehend a plan so based on love and servitude that his own deliverance and restoration is achieved by the death of the very "Lord of glory" (2:8)? — Albert H. Baylis

Don't go woman on me and tell me you don't need a man to complete you. It's bullshit. Woman looks like you, goddamn waste. But a woman who has the love you got to give, that's not a waste. That's a crying shame. — Kristen Ashley

If clothes look like a couch or an ottoman or a love seat, you just wanna stay away from it. — Santino Rice

As a writer, if someone falls in love with my work, I know they have fallen in love with my mind. Having no idea what my face looks like, they chose my mind. Art may be the only place a woman can be whole without being seen. — Nayyirah Waheed

And perhaps most I loved this about her, her helpless way, love it still, how she can't hide a single thing, that she looks hurt when she is hurt, seems happy when happy. That I know at every moment the precise place where she stands. What else can move a man like me, who would find nothing as siren or comforting? — Chang-rae Lee

For such people, finding a mate is like scoring a goal. You have to develop skills like talking cheesy, praising generously, and targeting properly. They are unable to see the opposite person as a human being. All they focus upon is their own strategy and tactics. For them, all the people on the opposite team are alike - except for looks, education and career. — Gracia Hunter

He looks at me in such a way that I know for sure-he's never looked at another girl quite like this.
And the I'm in his arms, and we're hugging and kissing, and we're both shaking,because we both know-this is the night we become real. — Jenny Han

Do I sometimes hope I wake up in the morning and people are like, 'What's wrong with her? She looks emaciated.' Of course I would love that. I'm such a clothes whore, I would love the opportunity to be a hanger. But I think I'm more confident than I've ever felt in my life. — Melissa McCarthy

And I'm dying to know, is it killing you like it's killing me? And the story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now. — Taylor Swift

She looks at the swings, and I can see she's imagining what they'd look like if the kids weren't there. The guilt of this holds her down momentarily. It appears to be there constantly. Never far away, despite her love for them.
I realize that nothing belongs to her anymore and she belongs to everything. — Markus Zusak

I see the way you look at him, and he looks at you. Don't question love, Iris. It may have come to you in an inconvenient form, one that society finds scandalous, but it's a gift from God. A reminder that this institution can't interfere with natural processes, like laughter, prayer, a dream that comes to you in sleep. Or love. Do with it what you want, but know it means God still sees you not as a lunatic but as His child. — Kathy Hepinstall

Don't settle ... wait for the one who treats you like an investment; not a test drive. Someone who inspires you to be at your best ... One who looks beyond your outer beauty and falls in love with your soul. — Steve Maraboli

I study her expression, trying to memorize what love looks like, just in case things don't work out. Apparently, it looks vulnerable, like a dog that's been hit by a car. Just lying there on the pavement, waiting for you to run into the street and scoop it up in your arms. — Paula Stokes

I am your handiwork made flesh. You took beauty and created hideousness, and out of this monstrosity your child will be born ... . I am the meaning of your deeds. I am the meaning of your so-called love; your destructive, selfish, wanton love ... your love looks just like hatred. — Salman Rushdie

There is so much deep contradiction in my soul. Such deep longing for God - so deep that it is painful - a suffering continual - and yet not wanted by God - repulsed - empty - no faith - no love - no zeal. Souls hold no attraction - Heaven means nothing - to me it looks like an empty place - the thought of it means nothing to me and yet this torturing longing for God. Pray for me please that I keep smiling at Him in spite of everything. For I am only His - so He has every right over me. I am perfectly happy to be nobody even to God ...
Your devoted child in J.C.
M. Teresa — Brian Kolodiejchuk

I would love to branch out a little bit and ... do a Judd Apatow type of movie. It just looks like it's so much fun. — Serinda Swan

It is far better to make them live in the Future. Biological necessity makes all their passions point in that direction already, so that thought about the Future inflames hope and fear. Also, it is unknown to them, so that in making them think about it we make them think of unrealities. In a word, the Future is, of all things, the thing least like eternity. It is the most completely temporal part of time - for the Past is frozen and no longer flows, and the Present is all lit up with eternal rays. Hence the encouragement we have given to all those schemes of thought such as Creative Evolution, Scientific Humanism, or Communism, which fix men's affections on the Future, on the very core of temporality. Hence nearly all vices are rooted in the future. Gratitude looks to the past and love to the present; fear, avarice, lust, and ambition look ahead. Do — C.S. Lewis

I actually quite love following Lisa Rinna on Twitter, because she tweets like I tweet, which is like, 'Just dropped off the kids!' Or, 'Hey, here's a great sale at the grocery store!' It's such real life, and to me she's like a celebrity - she looks like Hollywood to me - that following her makes me feel like, stars are just like us! — Ross Mathews

Princess Caspida, I have nothing but respect and admiration for you. Truly you will be the queen this city needs. But I can't marry you."
The princess stands still as stone, her face unreadable. "Why not, Prince Rahzad?"
"I am sorry," he replies. "The truth is, I am in love, but not with you."
He turns to me, and my spirit takes flight like a flock of doves, startled and erratic. I cannot move, cannot speak, as he takes my hands in his and looks me earnestly in the eye. He presses the ring into my palm, and the gold feels as if it burns my skin.
"This belongs to you, and you alone. I've been so blind, Zahra. So caught up in the past that I've failed to see what's happening in front of me. I've been such an idiot, I don't know how I can expect anything from you. But I have to try. I have to tell the truth, and the truth is . . . I love you. — Jessica Khoury

Incarnation is good news not because it offers us a way out of the mess of this world, but because it shows us what God's love looks like here and now. — Jamie Arpin-Ricci

When will you ask for your post back?" he whispered in her ear. "I miss the smell of
industrial-strength solvents."
She laughed softly. "Soon. And when will you have papers read at the mathematical society
again? I rather like having my husband called a genius for reasons that are not clear to me."
My husband. The words rolled off her tongue, easy and beautiful. He kissed her fervently.
"Soon. My brilliance quite overflowed on the way home. I have four notebooks to show for
it."
"Good. We don't want people to think I love you for your looks alone."
"In that case we should also put you in some rather revealing gowns once in a while, so that
people don't think I married you for your accomplishments alone. — Sherry Thomas

I want to kiss my brother for being so tactful. Rabbit looks grateful as well, and I can only imagine what it would be like to trot out your embarrassing 'enjo kosai' problem in front of your sister, your former love-interest of a couple of weeks, and her two siblings. — Elle Lothlorien

Christine: There's something really romantic about that. Every woman wants a man who'll fall in love with her soul as well as her body. But what if you meet her, and you don't think she's attractive?
Lincoln: I don't think I care what she looks like. — Rainbow Rowell

Kathy Burke has been a real inspiration. I think she's brilliant. I like the fact she doesn't care what she looks like on TV and just gets really into character. Obviously, she can do drama as well, but it's her comedy I love. — Sheridan Smith

Why does the longing for love have to be so acute, like a desperate thirst? Is it because love is wanting to be saved and we can never really be saved? Maybe love is really born of our fears. Love is the heart's desire for a painkiller; a tearful plea for a great big epidural. Yes that's it: love is the only anesthesia that really works. And so people with broken hearts are really those who are just coming to, and if you've ever seen someone come out of general anesthesia, you know that it looks a lot like the beginnings of a broken heart. — Jonathan Hull

Because just before I arrived, he showed up on the bus. He, meaning Damien.
He reminded me of the pain I'd felt when he died. He reminded me of what it's like to feel your heart explode in your chest cavity at the realization of living your life without the only person you've ever loved. And he reminded me of the promise I'd made to him months ago. I told him that I'd love him forever.
That I'd never let go.
But part of me wants to let go.
Deep down inside I know that I can't go on loving a ghost forever. I tell myself this every day. Then I see him and I forget about having those thoughts. Because when I do see him, he looks like the Damien I met on that humid summer day, who was smirking at me, and driving his candy apple red Cadillac in reverse. When I see him he looks so vivid.
So full of life.
Not so ... so ...
So dead. — Lauren Hammond

Good choice,' Laura Said. 'Our neighbour, Mrs Crabtree, came round this morning and she put it best. Her theory is that fame is like a bubble. It looks gorgeous on the outside, as if it's been painted with pretty colours, but when you pop it there's nothing there. She said that life, love and friendship are what matters, and that what you do is more important than what you show. — Lauren St. John

What we see on the TV screen, or the film screen or what we listen to in music, we have an illusion of what Prince Charming looks like or Cinderella's gonna look like in our life and we forget about what true love really means. — Shari Wiedmann

I look at you and wham, I'm head over heals. I guess that love is like a banana peel. — Elvis Presley

Fall in love with someone
who tastes like adventure
but looks like
the calm, beautiful morning
after a terrible storm — Nikita Gill

His father asked Ethan in a raspy voice, "You spend time with your son?" "Much as I can," he'd answered, but his father had caught the lie in his eyes. "It'll be your loss, Ethan. Day'll come, when he's grown and it's too late, that you'd give a kingdom to go back and spend a single hour with your son as a boy. To hold him. Read a book to him. Throw a ball with a person in whose eyes you can do no wrong. He doesn't see your failings yet. He looks at you with pure love and it won't last, so you revel in it while it's here." Ethan thinks often of that conversation, mostly when he's lying awake in bed at night and everyone else is asleep, and his life screaming past at the speed of light - the weight of bills and the future and his prior failings and all these moments he's missing - all the lost joy - perched like a boulder on his chest. — Blake Crouch

[I'll teach you] how not to leave the windows of your heart open when it looks like rain and how everyone has a stump where something necessary was amputated. — Steve Toltz

Then, as if getting blown up is not enough to worry about, after I take a seat on the steps, I get a look at the choir. Thirty singers and from where I'm sitting, it looks like only two of them are black. It's not like I'm saying suburban white people shouldn't sing. Because I love Van Halen's Hot for Teacher. — Sarah Vowell

Love is like a Rubix Cube, there are countless numbers of wrong twists and turns, but when you get it right, it looks perfect no matter what way you look at it. — Brian Cramer

Abby_Donovan: I bet you were one of those uber-cool teachers like Mr.Chip, weren't you?
MarkBaynard: I was more like Mr.Kotter or that guy from GLEE who looks like the love child of Orlando Bloom & Justin Timberlake.
Abby_Donovan: Your female students were probably writing "I love you" on their eyelids and listening to "Don't Stand So Close to Me" on their Walkmans.
[ ... ]
Abby_Donovan: Goodnight Mr.Schuester
MarkBaynard: Goodnight Miss Pillsbury
Abby_Donovan: Goodnight Puck
MarkBaynard: Goodnight Rachel
Abby_Donovan: Goodnight Kurt
MarkBaynard: Goodnight Quinn
Abby_Donovan: Goodnight Finn
MarkBaynard: Goodnight Sue Sylvester, you heartless but oddly sexy beast
Abby_Donovan: Goodnight Artie
MarkBaynard: Goodnight Tweetheart ... — Teresa Medeiros

And I want you to notice that one of them, one of the men almost has his tongue hanging out like he's licking his chops. Like this baby is ours now. And that's fine. You may call that love. But it looks to me a little bit like lust. And when they crave to bring the children of heterosexual couples through adoption into their homes, so that they can raise them in the homosexual lifestyle. And studies now show, that up to 20% kids raised by gay couples become gay themselves. It is a recruiting tool. And it is a child abuse tool. — Gordon Klingenschmitt

Even Proust - there's a famous passage where Odette opens the door with a cold, she's sulky, her hair is loose and undone, her skin is patchy, and Swann, who has never cared about her until that moment, falls in love with her because she looks like a Botticelli girl from a slightly damaged fresco. Which Proust himself only knew from a reproduction. He never saw the original, in the Sistine Chapel. But even so - the whole novel is in some ways about that moment. And the damage is part of the attraction, the painting's blotchy cheeks. Even through a copy Proust was able to re-dream that image, re-shape reality with it, pull something all his own from it into the world. Because - the line of beauty is the line of beauty. It doesn't matter if it's been through the Xerox machine a hundred times. — Donna Tartt

I just want to be
the size of a galaxy
so I can eat all the stars and gas giants
without them noticing
and getting upset.
Is that so bad?
Isn't that
what love looks like?
Isn't that
what you want, too? — Catherynne M Valente

He looks at me like I've just said something absolutely idiotic, which of course I have. Love and truth being tied together, I mean. They make each other possible, you know? — John Green

URSKADAMUS TINE SMYORFIN MASACH!" Edme wasn't sure what to believe now - her ears or her eye? There was only one wolf who swore in both the language of bears and that of Old Wolf. "Faolan?" "Who else, for the love of Lupus? One would think you saw a ghost." "But with all that frost - you look like a lochin." Faolan gave a dismissive bark. "You should see yourself," Edme persisted. "You've got icicles hanging from your chin fur. Your belly fur looks as if it's ... " "I know! I know! I can feel it!" he replied crankily. "You look absolutely ancient. I mean older than the Sark." "Thanks a lot," Faolan huffed. "Well, what did you find?" "No meat." His voice dwindled. — Kathryn Lasky

My litter sister looks up at me.
Mom was right. Her eyes are the same as they've always been. Brown eyes fringed with long lashes and steeped with the memory of sweetness and light, laughter and joy - trapped in this mangled corpse-like face.
"It's all right, baby girl," I whisper into her hair as I hug her. "I'm here. I came for you."
Her face crumples and her eyes shine. "You came for me."
I stroke her hair. It's as silky as ever. — Susan Ee

The most important thing I can teach my kids is that you can't put your value in looks. Presence is based upon magnitude. You can pretend to have an air about you but it is quickly deflated, you cannot deflate presence. Presence walks into a room and surrounds and fills anything that's in that room without trying to demand it, it takes over. It can come from a smile. Like I said, love makes you beautiful. What is beautiful radiates. — Terrence Howard

Respect me. Be proud, and if you love me, a little afraid, because love so often looks like fear. We are alike. We are alike. — Catherynne M Valente

He was clearly in love with Amber too, and this time it wasn't the usual water off the back of the duck. Instead, the duck, wounded by a hunter and bewildered because half its head had been shot way, and was still tottering about on its webby feet by the side of the pond. From the one side it looked like a duck usually looks. From the other, it was a different story. — Ali Smith

Holy tit fungus! Did you give Sasquatch an autopsy in here? God almighty, girl." He waddled back into the hallway, this time holding his privates with both hands. "You balded the dick mitten. Nice. Let me see it."
He looked at her like she might drop trou simply because he suggested it.
"I would rather lick a monkey's armpit than show you my vagina." Dove gave him the finger.
"You know what I love best about a naked muff hole? It looks just like a camel's dangly lips." Duke extended his own lips to make them appear gummy and slack. — Debra Anastasia

Do I frighten you?" I ask softly.
He seems to think about that. After a while, he leans back and looks skyward. "I don't know," he replies. "But I do know that I may never meet another like you again. — Marie Lu

Evie is our beautiful, dark-haired, green-eyed child,' I say. I can hear the tremor in my voice. 'Like many seven-year-old girls, she's obsessed with princesses. We think she looks more like a fairy. She loves Lego and painting. She laughs easily. She has pretend tea parties in a tree in our garden and invites all her dolls. She wants to be an artist when she grows up. Please find her. Please bring her back to us. We miss her beyond measure. She is the love of our life. — Sanjida Kay

People sometimes say that you must believe in feelings deep inside, otherwise you'd never be confident of things like 'My wife loves me'. But this is a bad argument. There can be plenty of evidence that somebody loves you. All through the day when you are with somebody who loves you, you see and hear lots of little tidbits of evidence, and they all add up. It isn't purely inside feeling, like the feeling that priests call revelation. There are outside things to back up the inside feeling: looks in the eye, tender notes in the voice, little favors and kindnesses; this is all real evidence. — Richard Dawkins

I do love foreplay," he whispered against her lips. "Days and days worth of it. I want to look forward to you like a kid looks forward to Christmas. — Leslie Kelly

So you find Miss Mercer beautiful?"
The buzzing in Spencer's head formed the words, "'She walks in beauty like the night/Of cloudless climes and starry skies.'"
"My God, now you're quoting poetry."
Had he said that aloud? Bloody hell. Spencer brandished his empty mug at his brother. "I always quote verse when I'm foxed."
"You must be very foxed to quote that idiot Byron. Or very impressed by Miss Mercer's looks. — Sabrina Jeffries

Move into kiss those sweet sugar lips, baby looks just like love. — Dave Matthews

humans are fully capable of loving cats and dogs and tropical fish. If they can love something much less intelligent than humans that does not talk and looks nothing like them, why can they not love one another? Certainly, — Hiroshi Yamamoto

You. Are. Amazing. Meg, I love a woman who looks like a woman. I don't want to be worried that I'll snap you in half, and when I lay on your stomach, I don't want your ribs poking me in the face. — Kristen Proby

What am I to you?'
Sophiel smiled.
'The sun. You are my sun, like Astrid said. My sun, that lights up my life. That looks after me with its fiery rays. I only have to turn towards it for it to set fire to my heart. — A.O. Esther

(Passion always looks like sacrifice to people who are not in love.) — Kris Vallotton

Families don't have to match. You don't have to look like someone else to love them. — Leigh Anne Tuohy

Shepherds don't look after sheep because they love them - although I do think some shepherds like their sheep too much. They look after their sheep so they can, first, fleece them and second, turn them into meat. That's much more like the priesthood as I know it. — Christopher Hitchens

I like magazines. I love to look at a magazine. But the magazines have got to get better. Everything pushes someone else to get better. So the Internet pushes the magazines. — Ralph Lauren

Looks like Kelsey wins the award for early riser. And doesn't she look purtier than a pat of butter meltin' all over a stack of griddle cakes? — Colleen Houck

Here," Trey says, fumbling for his cell phone on the bedside table. "You should call me.
Ben turns and looks at him, a small smile still playing around his lips. "Oh, should I? What's your number?"
Trey tells him, and Ben enters it into is phone, and then he takes Trey's and enters his number. "Okay," Ben says a little cautiously, "well, we'd love to have you come for a meeting. Are you seriously considering U of C? Even after what happened?"
"Oh yeah. I totally am. "What's your name again?"
Ben laughs and tells him.
I frown. Trey knows U of C is a private school. Mucho big bucks. But hey ... there's always the power of morphine to make you forget about the minor details of your life, like living above a restaurant that struggles monthly to pay bills, and considering returning to the place where some lunatic outsider came in and fucking shot you because you're gay. — Lisa McMann

What about you?" I ask her. "What do you think I should read next?" She takes my hand and leads me to the children's section. She looks around for a second, then heads over to a display at the front. I see a certain green book sitting there and panic. "No! Not that one!" I say. But she isn't reaching for the green book. She's reaching for Harold and the Purple Crayon. "What could you possibly have against Harold and the Purple Crayon?" she asks. "I'm sorry. I thought you were heading for The Giving Tree." Rhiannon looks at me like I'm an insane duck. "I absolutely HATE The Giving Tree." I am so relieved. "Thank goodness. That would've been the end of us, had that been your favorite book." "Here - take my arms! Take my legs!" "Take my head! Take my shoulders!" "Because that's what love's about!" "That kid is, like, the jerk of the century," I say, relieved that Rhiannon will know what I mean. "The biggest jerk in the history of all literature, — David Levithan

If definitely looks like the sort of place where amazing things happen. I can see why its a place people go with their dreams. And how fitting that I'm coming here, to this home of big dreams, to meet my best friend at last. — Jessica Love

Dressing up and doing photo shoots was a side of the industry I really didn't think I would like. But now I've got a glam squad; I love trying on new outfits and experimenting with different looks. — Ella Henderson

absence
looks like a lake bed flooded with sky
sounds like cotton howling
tastes like tear-stained pillows
smells like churning bile and burnt hair
feels like screaming agony, my heart dying and dying — Beth Morey

For a moment nothing happens. The figure stands still and I stand cold and alive and-
He starts to run. I make my way down the rocks, slipping, sliding, trying to get to the plain. I wish, I think, my feet clumsy, moving too fast, not fast enough, I wish i could run, I wish I'd written a whole poem, I wish I kept the compass-
And then I reach the plain and wish for nothing but what I have. Ky. Running toward me. I have never seen him run like this, fast, free, strong, wild. He looks so beautiful, his body moves so right. He stops just close enough for me to see the blue of his eyes and forget the red on my hands and the green I wish I wore. "You're here," he says, breathing hard and hungry. sweat and dirt cover his face, and he looks at me as though I'm the only thing he ever needed to see. I open my mouth to say yes. But I only have time to breathe in before he closes the last of the distance. All I know is the kiss. — Ally Condie

Say something, Jess. Say anything.
And just when I'm about to think of what I should say next, my mouth goes into whacked overdrive like I'm possessed. "The graphic art in Clone Wars is my favorite," I say. "I love how they drew the characters. You know - how everything looks so angular and - "
My words tangle and freeze when my brain finally arrives to shut it down.
Say something but NOT THAT, you psycho!
"Clone Wars. Love it, do I? Yesss." He's actually responded in a Yoda voice!
I blink.
His eyes are kind, sparkling with laughter and still, all too green. Yoda green! — Anne Eliot

If you threw Elvis and a scarecrow in a blender, topped the whole thing off with Seagram's 7 and pressed dice, you would make my dad. He's got tar black hair and shoulder blades that cut through his undershirt like clipped wings. He looks like a gray-skinned, skinny-rat cowboy and I would be lying if I didn't say that I am, maybe sorta kinda, keep it secret, in love with him.
And you would be, too, you would, if you met him before drink number five or six. Just meet him then. Get lost before things get ugly. — Andrea Portes