Love Reply Quotes & Sayings

Unrequited love," I'd say. He'd look at me sideways in that cunning way he did and say, "what about it?" and I'd reply, "it's not your color." Pithy. Just to show him that I'd noticed. Or maybe I'd show myself to her and say, "Guess I'm not the only one who uses humans around here." And then I'd summon some of Owain's hounds to chew off the bottom bits of her legs. Then she wouldn't fit just right into his arms. She'd be too short. It'd be like hugging a midget.
Nuala- pg. 75 — Maggie Stiefvater

And I love you.' she said her heart buoyant. She really did love him, although each time she said it and he could not reply, she loved him perhaps a little less. — Mark Helprin

I love you, Erik," I whispered. "You don't
have to say it, too," I hurried on, not giving him the chance to
reply. "I know you were about to before, but I just wanted to tell
you now, like this. I wanted you to know that it's for real, and
not because of anything that either one of us makes the other one
say or do."
"I love you, Natalia," he said in a confident
tone. Then he laughed softly. "Man, I've never said that before. To
anyone. Feels kinda weird. Weird in a good way," he assured me. — Sophie Davis

Love is like playing the piano. First you must learn to play by the rules, then you must forget the rules and play from your heart. If I were pressed to say why I loved him, I feel that my only reply could be: Because it was he, because it was I. — Michel De Montaigne

What can we do in the face of fear? What else, came the whispered reply, but love and trust. — Max Gladstone

I'm nothing to you, am I' Peter said once in a particularly intense arguement about where to find wild turnips. To these kinds of accusations, Tiger Lily would reply that he was trying to make her into his little chicken, and that she would never be anyone's 'little obedient chicken — Jodi Lynn Anderson

Them. But I often ask myself to what it all goes.
I learn to love my boys. I kill in them all the bad I can. I nourish in them all the good I can. I send them across the borders of manhood
and they leave me, and most likely I hear nothing more of them. And I say to myself: 'My life is like a wind. It blows and will cease.' But something says in reply: 'Wouldst thou not be one of God's winds, content to blow, and scatter the rain and dew, and shake the plants into fresh life, and then pass away and know nothing of what thou hast done?' And I answer: 'Yes, Lord. — George MacDonald

I wanted to be able to tell you the exact moment I fell in love with you. But I can't do that."
"You can't?" A pin could have dropped in the grass and it would have been heard in that moment as everyone grew perfectly silent to listen for his reply.
"No, I can't. Because every single moment I've spent with you is that moment, Lori. — Bella Andre

Don Jacinto did not reply; perhaps he understood that there was no measure for love of country except in sacrifice, and why ask the poor for more sacrifices? It was the comfortable, the rich like himself
although Istak did not put it this way
who should express it with their wealth. The poor had only their lives to give.
-Istak — F. Sionil Jose

She hesitated. "I'm not sure I understand."
"Don't you?" he asked. "You changed my heart, Rachel."
She felt her throat constrict, making any reply impossible.
"Rachel?" Her silence rarely made him uncomfortable, but this time he had no clear view of her features and no way to gauge her reaction. He wondered if he should have made a more straightforward declaration. "Did you hear me say I love you?"
She turned her cheek into his shoulder. "I heard you. — Jo Goodman

A man who took great pride in his lawn found himself with a large crop of dandelions. He tried every method he knew to get rid of them. Still they plagued him. Finally he wrote the department of agriculture. He enumerated all the things he had tried and closed his letter with the question: "What shall I do now?" In due course the reply came: "We suggest you learn to love them." — Anthony De Mello

After a Retreat

What hast thou learnt today?
Hast thou sounded awful mysteries,
Hast pierced the veiled skies,
Climbed to the feet of God,
Trodden where saints have trod,
Fathomed the heights above?
Nay,
This only have I learnt, that God is love.

What hast thou heard today?
Hast heard the Angel-trumpets cry,
And rippling harps reply;
Heard from the Throne of flame
Whence God incarnate came
Some thund'rous message roll?
Nay,
This have I heard, His voice within my soul.

What hast thou felt today?
The pinions of the Angel guide
That standeth at thy side
In rapturous ardours beat
Glowing, from head to feet,
In ecstasy divine?
Nay,
This only have felt, Christ's hand in mine. — Robert Hugh Benson

Tina leans forward and asks quietly, 'Do you? You know? Love her?'
Squeezing Nat's knee again, I reply, 'She's teachin' me how. — Belle Aurora

Tell me now, Angel, do you think we shall meet again after we are dead? I want to know." He kissed her to avoid a reply at such a time. "O, Angel
I fear that means no!" said she, with a suppressed sob. "And I wanted so to see you again
so much, so much! What
not even you and I, Angel, who love each other so well? — Thomas Hardy

So,' he said, his lip curling. 'There are some things you deem worthy enough to kill for, Gianluca.'
Luca's reply came in one steady breath. 'Only one. — Catherine Doyle

Love is the answer, said the songs, and that's OK. It was OK, I supposed, as an answer. But no more than that. It was not a solution; it wasn't really even an answer, just a reply. — Lorrie Moore

My God. Johannes, are you saying that you're accepting this task because I asked you?' Cabal did not reply. Instead he found a loose thread on the eiderdown and fiddled distractedly with it. Horst sat on the side of the bed, embraced his brother around the shoulders with one arm, and rubbed the top of his head with the knuckles of the other. 'Horst!' snapped Cabal. 'I am no longer eight years old!' Horst kissed him on the top of the head. 'You'll always be my little brother, Johannes, even if you look older than me now. — Jonathan L. Howard

I walk at night under a moonless sky. Only the terrain guides my steps, yet my footfall is as sure as if a dozen suns lit the way. I go to meet you under a leafless tree that never seems to grow or alter its shape. I am uncertain if it still lives or has learned to disguise its death. The same thought crosses my mind when I feel your cold fingers take my hand. It is not the tree I reflect upon.

'Do you still love me?' The words tumble clumsily out of the dark.

Hesitation is its own answer, but I reply 'I'm here' anyway as if my words were whispered comfort and not a weathered blade. They are taken wrong.

'I love you too.'

Your arms wrap me up and clamp tightly around my waist. An old, familiar kiss hardens my lips. I wonder why it is I return to this place every year where only memories remain fond. Perhaps it is because I keep hoping this leafless tree will either change or die. — Richelle E. Goodrich

I'd reply, love doesn't tell time.
Love is simply there
or it isn't.
Everyday,
in every way,
it was there. — Lisa Schroeder

Why do you write? he asked. So I can take my love for you and give it to the world, I reply. Because you won't take it from me. — Lang Leav

And what else is she?" Jerome asked. Jazza didn't offer any reply so I chimed in with, "A bitchweasel?"
"A bitchweasel!" Jazza's face lit up. "She's a bitchweasel! I love my new roommate. — Maureen Johnson

As we made love, our scars met,
grazing long enough for mine to say
"He tries to hide me,"
and for yours to reply
"I know I embarrass her."

"He never learned how to swim," whispered my scar.
"She got picked last in gym class,
then cried into her pillow," replied yours.

Just then, a huge wound opened in me.
You touched it. It closed.
I was filled, fully healed, and I knew
I would never be able not to love you. — Tom C. Hunley

By using money as the scapegoat and work as our all-consuming routine, we are able to conveniently disallow ourselves to do otherwise: 'John, I'd love to talk about the gaping void I feel in my life, the hopelessness that hits me like a punch in the eye every time I start my computer in the morning, but I have so much work to do! I've got at least three hours of unimportant email to reply to before calling prospects who said 'no' yesterday. Gotta run! — Timothy Ferriss

You don't think it's a little relevant that the guy who is supposed to die in the next year is dating the girl who's supposed to kill her true love with a kiss?"

She was too angry to do anything but shake her head. He merely raised an eyebrow in reply, an action that warmed the temperature of Blue's blood by a single degree. — Maggie Stiefvater

This is kind of insane, isn't it?" I asked. "I've only known you for a few days."
"Five days. Six days if you include today." His blue eyes met mine, our foreheads still touching. "It's not insane. Insanity is a state of mind which prevents normal perception and/or behaviours."
I chuckled at his clinical reply, but he pulled back so he could see my face properly and shrugged. "Jack, what I perceive of you, and how I've conducted myself in your company is with full mental cohesion." His cheeks stained with colour. "And Einstein would have you believe that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." He bit his lip and laughed at himself, I think. "But I don't want different results. I wouldn't change a thing. — N.R. Walker

We never really had a beginning. For months, we fought and insulted each other. Then we combusted into bed. We pretended what happened didn't matter, but it did, Blondie. You matter." "Braeden," I whispered and took a step farther into the room. He shook his head. "All the shit with Missy, and Zach ... hell, even with my father, it got in our way. I let it. This is me swearing I won't let it again. This is me swearing this is our beginning. You're it for me." He took a breath, and I watched his chest rise with it. His dark, chocolate eyes latched onto mine. "Because I still don't like you, Blondie." I started to roll my eyes. "I love you." My heart stopped. Everything stopped. That place deep down inside me burned and tingled. "I don't like you either." My voice wobbled. The intensity of his stare drilled right into me, like he was seating desperately for my reply. "I love you so damn much," I confessed.
-Braeden & Ivy — Cambria Hebert

I am troubled, immeasurably
by your eyes.
I am struck by the feather
of your soft reply.
The sound of glass
speaks quick, disdain
and conceals
what your eyes fight
to explain. — Jim Morrison

You selfish bitch!"
She had known for a long time that putting her needs above those of Adam's wife and children was indeed selfish. She had no real answer to the accusation thrown at her.
"I'm sorry" she said, with her head in her hands.
"you're sorry?" came her adversary's disbelieving reply.
"I am. I'm sorry he married you when he was in love with me. I'm sorry I couldn't have loved someone else. I'm sorry your marriage is a joke and I'm sorry that I'm alone. I'm sorry for a lot of things - for you, for your kids, for me and for him. I spend most of my time being sorry."
For a moment there was silence at the end of the line.
"all you had to do was stay away"
"if only I could have." tears escaped and raced down her cheeks.
"I hate you! — Anna McPartlin

He was saved from having to reply by Philippa, turning to face them. "What on earth? Do you see this?"
He had not been paying attention, but Olivia was now alternately pantomiming cracking a whip, and screwing up her face, eyes tightly closed, teeth bared, with her fingers splayed out at either edge of her mouth.
"Driving a squid! Whipping the sunshine!" the marchioness called out, pride in her tone, drawing laughter from the rest of the room.
"Driving a Squid is a play I would dearly love to read," Philippa said on a giggle, turning back to Penelope. "Penny, really. We could use your help. — Sarah MacLean

If we reason we would be understood; if we imagine we would that the airy children of our brain were born anew within another's; if we feel we would that another's nerves should vibrate to our own, that the beams of their eyes should kindle at once and mix and melt into our own; that lips of motionless ice should not reply to lips quivering and burning with the heart's best blood. This is love. — Percy Bysshe Shelley

I love you," Sam said.
Celaena wrapped her arms around him and held him close, breathing his scent. Her only reply was, "I hate packing. — Sarah J. Maas

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning, but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more. — Edna St. Vincent Millay

On no account would I do a picture which I should be unwilling to show to all the world - or at least all the artistic world. If I did not believe I could take pictures of all children without any lower motive than a pure love of Art, I would not ask it: and if I thought there was any fear of its lessening their beautiful simplicity of character, I would not ask it. I print all such pictures myself, and of course would not let any one see them without your permission. I fear you will reply that the one insuperable objection is "Mrs. Grundy"
that people will be sure to hear that such pictures have been done, and that they will talk. As to their hearing of it, I say "of course. All the world are welcome to hear of it, and I would not an any account suggest to the children to mention it - which would at once introduce an objectionable element" - but as to people talking about it, I will only quote the grand old monkish legend: They say: Quhat do they say? Lat them say! — Lewis Carroll

As soon as Joe was done feeding Ira Kenby's fucking dog, he was going to call social services again, and Casey would be taken to a home that would be more appropriate for a runaway. So really, Joe would say, they owed much of their lives together to a senile old man and a dog tortured by hunger to the point it didn't know better. (Casey would always reply that they would have met again, because there was just no way they could have lived without each other, but Joe's faith didn't run that deep. Casey would say that was because Joe didn't have a Josiah Daniels in his life, and Joe would shake his head and walk off, but that was later in their story.) — Amy Lane

I am glad you are no relation of mine. I will never call you aunt again as long as I live. I will never come to visit you when I am grown up; and if any one asks me how I liked you, and how you treated me, I will say the very thought of you makes me sick, and that you treated me with miserable cruelty ... You think I have no feelings, and that I can do without one bit of love or kindness; but I cannot live so: and you have no pity. I shall remember how you thrust me back ... into the red-room ... And that punishment you made me suffer because your wicked boy struck me - knocked me down for nothing. I will tell anybody who asks me questions this exact tale. 'Ere I had finished this reply, my soul began to expand, to exult, with the strangest sense of freedom, of triumph, I ever felt. It seemed as if an invisible bond had burst, and that I had struggled out into unhoped-for liberty ... — Charlotte Bronte

She texted me 'I love you.'
I texted back 'I love you too.'
She then texted me 'I love you more.'
And I smiled reading her message and texted in reply 'No, I love you more.'
Then she texted me 'I love you infinity power infinity power infinity into infinity.'
I had no words to reply and smiled looking at her text! — Avijeet Das

He will forget me. He will leave my letters lying about among guns and dogs unanswered. I shall send him poems and he will perhaps reply with a picture post card. But it is for that that I love him. I shall propose meeting - under a clock, by some Cross; and shall wait, and he will not come. It is for that that I love him. Oblivious, almost entirely ignorant, he will pass from my life. And I shall pass, incredible as it seems, into other lives; this is only an escapade perhaps, a prelude only. — Virginia Woolf

When they say Don't I know you? say no.
When they invite you to the party
remember what parties are like
before answering.
Someone telling you in a loud voice
they once wrote a poem.
Greasy sausage balls on a paper plate.
Then reply.
If they say we should get together.
say why? It's not that you don't love them any more.
You're trying to remember something
too important to forget.
Trees.
The monastery bell at twilight.
Tell them you have a new project.
It will never be finished. When someone recognizes you in a grocery store
nod briefly and become a cabbage.
When someone you haven't seen in ten years
appears at the door,
don't start singing him all your new songs.
You will never catch up.
Walk around feeling like a leaf. Know you could tumble any second.
Then decide what to do with your time. — Naomi Shihab Nye

We're in this together, right?" he whispers. "You and me? You want to be here, yeah?" There's guilt in his questions. "Yes," I reply. "I chose this." Day pulls me close enough for our noses to touch. "I love you. — Marie Lu

The canyon country does not always inspire love. To many it appears barren, hostile, repellent - a fearsome mostly waterless land of rock and heat, sand dunes and quicksand, cactus, thornbrush, scorpion, rattlesnake, and agaraphobic distances. To those who see our land in that manner, the best reply is, yes, you are right, it is a dangerous and terrible place. Enter at your own risk. Carry water. Avoid the noonday sun. Try to ignore the vultures. Pray frequently. — Edward Abbey

Then Day reaches out and touches my hand with his. He encloses it in a handshake. And just like that, I am linked with him again, I feel the pulse of our bond and his- tory and love through our hands, like a wave of magic, the return of a long-lost friend. Of something meant to be. The feeling brings tears to my eyes. Perhaps we can take a step forward together.
"Hi," he says. "I'm Daniel."
"Hi," I reply. "I'm June. — Marie Lu

Nay, let us walk from fire unto fire,
From passionate pain to deadlier delight,
I am too young to live without desire,
Too young art thou to waste this summer night
Asking those idle questions which of old
Man sought of seer and oracle, and no reply was told.
For, sweet, to feel is better than to know,
And wisdom is a childless heritage,
One pulse of passion
youth's first fiery glow,
Are worth the hoarded proverbs of the sage:
Vex not soul with dead philosophy,
Have we not lips to kiss with, hearts to love and eyes to see! — Oscar Wilde

If what you call 'god' means [Shiva, Jesus, Allah or Buddha] then I say he doesn't exist at all...
But if you meant [love, truth and kindness] I reply : "That is what 'god' is — Vedang Sati

I took the one letter he had for us. It was from the Switchblade Gas & Electric Company. I didn't know I had admirers there too, but I wasn't that surprised. I threw it in the trash with the IRS's love letters and closed the door without reply. — The Harvard Lampoon

If somebody says 'I love you' to me, I feel as though I had a pistol pointed at my head. What can anybody reply under such conditions but that which the pistol holder requires? 'I love you, too'. — Kurt Vonnegut

God! I hate clever women!" She froze for an instant before the reply was on her lips. "I love clever men!" Her eyes raked him up and down. "It seems we are both to be disappointed. — Anne Perry

Her most unusual assignation was a quick visit with Fred Darsey, a young man recently escaped from Milledgeville State Hospital, where he was committed by his parents during a troubled adolescence. Darsey first caught her interest with a blind letter, in March, from the mental institution, revealing his passion for bird-watching. She was startled when her reply was returned and the envelope marked "eloped." She sympathized, when Darsey wrote her again from New York City, "When you have a friend there you feel as if you are there yourself, so you see I feel as if I have escaped too." Carver helped arrange the date, which Flannery kept secret from Regina, in Bryant Park, at the rear of the New York Public Library, with the pen pal she had never met. "I just love to sit and look at the people in New York, or anywhere," she told him, "even in Milledgeville." Flannery wound up her trip north spending the — Brad Gooch

Girl in the wind
blowing wide open
the closed doors of my life -
which way are we going?

Standing against the lurid sky
on the stark brink of ocean
arms outstretched
as if your love and hunger
would embrace the world
and I in my inner room
playing my poetic premutations
can only look and ask the unanswerable.

Brave and cunning I speak to my typewriter
knowing it will not answer back
knowing it will not reply
what I ask and do not want to hear
as you with the vast sunset merge
a multitude of dreams away
uniquely alone and outside of me
in the purity and rarity of this moment
immeasurably beyond my love and my rage

and with the dying call of gulls
the echo resounds:

Girl in the wind
throwing aside
the tight shutters of my life -
which way are we going? — Christy Brown

In the heat of anger with love ones,
always ponder before saying an uncivil word.
An uncivil word will NEVER cure a bad relationship; but, it will likely make a bad relationship worse.
Know that your reply holds the POWER either to temper a quarrel; or to inflame an unsettled soul
full of hurt and rage. — Tanya Ward Jordan

Stop watching me," she'd say all the time, a little smile on her face because she was watching me too.
"I can't help it," I'd reply "I'm fascinated by you, in love with you."
"Well, go be fascinated and in love with the TV, I'm trying to sort things out, it's not easy with you watching. — Dorothy Koomson

Ryder, open the door!" Branna asked politely.

"No can do, sweets," came Ryder's swift reply. "I'm only a man, I can't help finish packing with you seducing me."

"None of us can!" Alec shouted. "You all sunk to a new low, using our own cocks against us. You should be ashamed."

We should be ashamed?

"You used our love for an innocent dog to get us outside! You said he ran out!" I snapped.

Alec cackled. "That was your mistake."

"What was?" I growled.

"Believing Storm would willingly run anywhere."

All the lads burst into laughter.

"Bastards!" I yelled. — L.A. Casey

The third, most important, and unfortunately most widespread justification is, at bottom, the age-old religious one just a little altered: that in public life the suppression of some for the protection of the majority cannot be avoided - so that coercion is unavoidable however desirable reliance on love alone might be in human intercourse. The only difference in this justification by pseudo-science consists in the fact that, to the question why such and such people and not others have the right to decide against whom violence may and must be used, pseudo-science now gives a different reply to that given by religion - which declared that the right to decide was valid because it was pronounced by persons possessed of divine power. 'Science' says that these decisions represent the will of the people, which under a constitutional form of government is supposed to find expression in all the decisions and actions of those who are at the helm at the moment. — Mahatma Gandhi

I pull back, gasping for breath. Reeling. His breath is ragged, and I place my hands on his cheeks to steady him. "Is this okay?" I whisper. "Are you okay?"
His reply is anguished. Honest. "I love you. — Stephanie Perkins

I love you, babe." Warmth spread through him like sunshine in the morning. He had to stop grinning long enough to type a reply. "I love you back. — A.E. Via

People? They usually ask only stupid questions, forcing you to reply with equally stupid answers. For instance, they ask you what you do, not what you would have liked to do. They ask you what you own, not what you've lost. They ask about the woman you married, not about the one you love. About your name, but not if it suits you. They ask your age, but not how well you've lived those years. They ask about the city you live in, not about the city that lives in you. And they ask if you pray, not if you fear God.
So I've gotten used to answering these questions with silence. You know, when we shut up, we force others to reconsider their mistakes. — Ahlam Mosteghanemi

We spoke on the phone for the first time that morning. My back against the chest of drawers, my knees tucked under my chin.
"What are you doing?" You ask.
"Staring at my socks," I reply, "I wore them inside out."
"You dork."
At some point in the following months, our conversation turns.
"I'm going to kiss you really slow, while fucking you really fast. — Lang Leav

Win took another putt. Another make. "We're not the same, you and I. We both know that. But it's okay." "It's not okay." "Yes, it is. If we were the same it wouldn't work. We'd both be dead by now. Or insane. We balance each other. It's why you're my best friend. It's why I love you." Silence. "Don't do it again," Myron said. Win did not reply. He lined up another putt. "Did you hear me?" "It's time to move on," Win said. "This incident is in the past. You know better than to try to control the future." More silence. Win sank another putt. — Harlan Coben

I love you, you know. The thought had escaped before I had a chance to rein it in. Henri caught his breath in his throat; the sombre weight in his chest lifting away like a pressure valve had been removed. He couldn't reply, certainly not with the two gate guards standing right next to him, but I felt his face relax into a smile. — K.C. Finn

What's so beautiful about girls?" I would implore.
And the secret society of adults would reply with a smirk and wink as if I was merely a boy who couldn't possibly have the mental maturity to comprehend such grown-up concepts as love and bleeding vaginas; "You'll understand someday, James. — Jake Vander Ark

Loving You
I saw him the other day. His arms around another girl, his eyes when met with mine - were low in their recognition.
I wonder if he remembers what I once told him.
I will love you forever.
He had smiled at me sadly before giving his reply.
But I am so afraid you may one day stop.
Now all these years later, I am the one who is afraid. Because I love him, I still do. I haven't stopped, I don't think I can. I don't think I ever will. — Lang Leav

By contrast, my wife at fifty-two yeas old seems to me just as attractive as the day I first met her. If I were to say this out loud, she would say, 'Douglas, that's just a line. No one prefers wrinkles, no one prefers grey.' To which I'd reply, 'But none of this is a surprise. I've been expecting to watch you grow older ever since we met. Why should it trouble me? It's the face itself that I love, not that face at twenty-eight or thirty-four or fourty-three. It's that face.'
Perhaps she would have liked to hear this but I had never got around to saying it out loud. I had always presumed there would be time and now, sitting on the edge of the bed at four a.m., no longer listening out for burglars, it seemed that it might be too late. — David Nicholls

Well,' you may ask, 'how may I know when I am in love?'

. . . George Q. Morris [who later became a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, gave this reply]: 'My mother once said that if you meet a girl in whose presence you feel a desire to achieve, who inspires you to do your best, and to make the most of yourself, such a young woman is worthy of your love and is awakening love in your heart. — David O. McKay

When you look at her what do you feel?" "Are you fucking serious? Forget it." He can kiss my ass if he wants to start talking feelings with me. "You obviously want it for a reason." "I want a picture to jack off to. What do you care?" I keep drawing so I don't have to look at him, but I'm mutilating the sketch I'm working on. I'll have to start over, but I don't care. "Joy, fear, frustration, longing, friendship, anger, need, despair, love, lust?" "Yes." "Yes, what?" "All of it," I reply, because I'm all in now whether I like it or not. — Katja Millay

What said those two souls communicating through the language of the eyes, more perfect than that of the lips, the language given to the soul in order that sound may not mar the ecstasy of feeling? In such moments, when the thoughts of two happy beings penetrate into each other's souls through the eyes, the spoken word is halting, rude, and weak - it is as the harsh, slow roar of the thunder compared with the rapidity of the dazzling lightning flash, expressing feelings already recognized, ideas already understood, and if words are made use of it is only because the heart's desire, dominating all the being and flooding it with happiness, wills that the whole human organism with all its physical and psychical powers give expression to the song of joy that rolls through the soul. To the questioning glance of love, as it flashes out and then conceals itself, speech has no reply; the smile, the kiss, the sigh answer. — Jose Rizal

The reply to this was that Three took out a small revolver, and this surprised me; for everyone knows that anger is most intense towards those you know: it is lovers and neighbors who kill each other. There's no sense, after all, in behaving that way toward a perfect stranger; where's the satisfaction? No love, no need; no need, no frustration; no frustration, no hate, right? It must have been fear. — Joanna Russ

Before Luce could reply, a skinny, dark haired girl appeared in from of her, wagging her long fingers in Luce's face.
"Ooooooh," the girl taunted in a ghost-story-telling voice, dancing around Luce in a circle. "The reds are watching youuuu."
"Get out of here, Arriane, before I have you lobotimized," the attendant said, though it was clear from her first brief but genuine smile that she had some coarse affection for that crazy girl.
It was also clear that Arriane did not reciprocate the love. She mimed a jerking-off motion at the attendant, then stared at Luce, daring her to be offended. — Lauren Kate

I love you," was his reply. "I make myself keep on loving you, despite what you do. I've got to love you. We all have to love you, and believe in
you, and think you are looking out for our best interests. But look at us, Momma, and really see us. — V.C. Andrews

The bent head, the averted eye, the faltering voice, the wincing figure- these, and not the unshrinking gaze and frank reply, are the true signals of passion. — Arthur Conan Doyle

You ask me if I love you and I choke on my reply. I'd rather hurt you honestly than mislead you with a lie. — Dan Hill

Tie your heart at night to mine, love,
and both will defeat the darkness
like twin drums beating in the forest
against the heavy wall of wet leaves.
Night crossing: black coal of dream
that cuts the thread of earthly orbs
with the punctuality of a headlong train
that pulls cold stone and shadow endlessly.
Love, because of it, tie me to a purer movement,
to the grip on life that beats in your breast,
with the wings of a submerged swan,
So that our dream might reply
to the sky's questioning stars
with one key, one door closed to shadow. — Pablo Neruda

He was, and he knew it, very quietly in love with the little Manchu. His love demanded nothing, not even reply; it was a tribute of the mind, to which his senses added only a flavor. — James Hilton

Love doesn't need a reply... ignorance and is it a romantic image? — Deyth Banger

I had wonderful love but I did not give back wonderful love, I was unable to reply to their love. Because I was obsessed with some fictional sense of separation, I couldn't touch the thing that was offered to me,and it was offered to me everywhere. — Sylvie Simmons

Many of us humans have a hard time with understanding one simple truth: the surest way to get love is to start giving love to others. Often, when we desperately need some companionship, understanding and warmth from those who are around us, we chose to blame, shout, criticize, accuse, insult and set ultimatums. But in reply, we only encounter with cold walls of estrangement which was diligently built by our own efforts, farcical walls and fences. — Sahara Sanders

She let herself love me for three minutes.
Can three minutes last forever? I ask myself, but already know the answer.
Probably not, I reply. But maybe they last long enough. — Markus Zusak

I say that when she appeared, in whatever place, by the hope embodied in that marvelous greeting, for me no enemy remained, in fact I shone with a flame of charity that made me grant pardon to whoever had offended me: and if anyone had then asked me anything my reply would only have been: 'Love', with an aspect full of humility. — Dante Alighieri

We are about to part," said Neville. "Here are the boxes; here are the cabs. There is Percival in his billycock hat. He will forget me. He will leave my letters lying about among guns and dogs unaswered. I shall send him poems and he will perhaps reply with a picture post card. But it is for that that I love him. I shall propose a meeting - under a clock, by some Cross; and shall wait and he will not come. It is for that that I love him. — Virginia Woolf

There was no reply. So Z glanced over again - just as a tear slide down Phury's cheek.
"Ah ... fuck," Z muttered.
"Yeah. Pretty much." Another tear rolled out of Phury's eye. "God ... damn. I'm leaking."
"Okay, brace yourself."
Phury scrubbed his face with his palms. "Why?"
"Because ... I think I'm going to try to hug you. — J.R. Ward

Though love repine, and reason chafe, There came a voice without reply,- "'Tis man's perdition to be safe, When for the truth he ought to die." — Ralph Waldo Emerson

Before I could reply, he had picked me up, literally swept me off my feet, and kissed me. And afterwards, when I tried to speak, he silenced me in much the same manner. It was a shock (but not at all distasteful) to be so caught up. Later - when he at last set me down - he handled me more gently. He took of my glasses and told me that he loved me. — Jennifer Paynter

I want him when you're done with him," Rach pipes up, sending me a teasing grin.
"You'll be waiting a while," I reply, accepting a glass of champagne from Ky. "Like eternity. — Siobhan Davis

Where the real sex feeling begins, timidity and distrust are its companions, heritage from old wicked days when love and violence went often hand in hand. The bent head, the averted eye, the faltering voice, the wincing figure - these, and not the unshrinking gaze and frank reply, are the true signals of passion. Even in my short life I had learned as much as that - or had inherited it in that race memory which we call instinct. — Arthur Conan Doyle

Your NOT FALLING APART, i tell my self. IF ONLY YOU KNEW, its HARDER TO BREATH with out you. THE AIR I BREATH is not the same with out you. I dont want to LOVE SOMEBODY else. MAKES ME WONDER if i could ever tell you, but I'm OUT OF GOODBYES. I don't want to lose you. This is MISERY, I CANT LIE, i am LOSING MY MIND over you. NOTHING LAST FOREVER, but THIS LOVE dose. Its a TANGLED mystery. ONE MORE NIGHT goes bye with no reply. The FORTUNE TELLER said you would never be mine. I end up BACK AT YOUR DOOR, when THE SUN comes back to life. This is are LAST CHANCE, RUNAWAY with me tonight. And lets never say goodbye. — Rhyan Roads

The Professor made no reply to this. Lillian had been fiercely jealous of Tom Outland. As he left the house, he was reflecting that people who are intensely in love when they marry, and who go on being in love, always meet with something which suddenly or gradually makes a difference. Sometimes it is the children, or the grubbiness of being poor, sometimes a second infatuation. In their own case it had been, curiously enough, his pupil, Tom Outland. St. — Willa Cather

She wanted to write to him. Tell him she was glad he was back, that he was alive, that he was home and safe. But words to him no longer fit right in her her mouth.Words which belonged in his ownership were no longer hers to give. Silence was the only acceptable state her heart would grant. He would never know what he missed, because she refused to be heard in his presence. All the words he could have had, all the phrases he might have danced with. The smiles which would have been imprinted upon his heart, would never be. And his lips would never be able to reply to the words she could not say. — Coco J. Ginger

Ugh. Peeta makes comments like this in such an offhand way, and it's like being hit in the gut. He's only answering my question honestly. He's not pressing me to reply in kind, to make any declaration of love. But I still feel awful, as if I've been using him in some terrible way. Have I? I don't know. — Suzanne Collins

A wedding was a strange ceremony, she thought, with all those formal words, those solemn vows made by one to another; whereas the real question that should be put to the two people involved was a very simple one. Are you happy with each other? was the only question that should be asked; to which they both should reply, preferably in unison, Yes. — Alexander McCall Smith

My lady," says Aladdin, extending an arm toward the sun, "I give you gold as a token of my love."
"All I want is you," I reply. I turn and kiss him, pulling him against me, feeling the warmth of the dawn in my hair. Then I rest my head on his shoulder, simply feeling his arms around me, his heart beating against me.
"Are you cold?" asks Aladdin. "You're shivering."
"A little."
"I'll go get a blanket. And breakfast. If I can find the kitchen."
"Galley, love. It's called a galley."
"Right. Galley. Got it. I'll ask the captain. What was his name?"
"Sinbad, I think?"
"I'll be right back."
But I catch his hand. "I'm all right. Don't go yet."
He stays with me, and together we watch the sun stain the sea and sky a thousand and one shades of gold. My thumb rubs the ring on my finger, its dents and contours as familiar to me now as my hand.
So this is what it feels like to have all your wishes come true. — Jessica Khoury

Ward, do you think we'll have time to ride this afternoon? I'd love to go over some of the old trails with you," Erica asked, smiling at him over the assortment of pastries and wedding cake in the lodge's dining room.
Ward fought the urge to growl his reply that he had an even better idea. He'd love to stuff her into Ralph Cummins's taxi, slam the door, and instruct Ralph to hit the gas and not slow down until he reached Palo Alto, where Erica was currently living. Once the taxi was out of sight, he'd go down to the bottom of the road to Silver Creek Ranch and lock the gates. With a padlock.
Instead, he shoveled in a forkful of the wedding cake Roo had baked and pretended not to hear. He'd been doing a lot of that. — Laura Moore

I think that every one whom you may ask how to write a play will reply, if he really can write one, that he doesn't know how it is done. It is a little as if you were to ask Romeo what he did to fall in love with Juliet and to make her love him; he would reply that he did not know, that it simply happened.
Well, my dear friend, if you want me to be quite frank, I'll own up that I don't know how to write a play. One day a long time ago, when I was scarcely out of school, I asked my father the same question. He answered: It's very simple; the first act clear, the last act short, and all the acts interesting. — Alexandre Dumas-fils

The postmodern reply to the modern consists of recognizing that the past, since it cannot really be destroyed, because its destruction leads to silence, must be revisited: but with irony, not innocently. I think of the postmodern attitude as that of a man who loves a very cultivated woman and knows he cannot say to her, I love you madly, because he knows that she knows (and that she knows that he knows) that these words have already been written by Barbara Cartland. Still, there is a solution. He can say, As Barbara Cartland would put it, I love you madly. — Umberto Eco

Any objection to the carryings on of our present golden-calf Christianity is met with the triumphant reply, "But we are winning them!" And winning them to what? To true discipleship? To cross-carrying? To self-denial? To separation from the world? To crucifixion of the flesh? To holy living? To nobility of character? To a despising of the world's treasures? To hard self-discipline? To love for God? To total committal to Christ? Of course the answer to all these questions is no. — A.W. Tozer

I'm writing my sermon about how faith should affect our everyday lives. Sam was quick to reply. "It should compel us to live like Jesus and love everybody - especially the poor and helpless. He sought out blind men, tax collectors, and Roman soldiers, and gave them sight and invited them to dinner and healed their households. When people were hungry, he had compassion on them and multiplied the loaves and fishes. When he saw the crippled man, he told him to take up his pallet and walk. He freed people from their demons and gave the living water to the thirsty." Throughout — Bill Higgs

Remember, sex is never a thing you just had. Sex is the intercourse, the merging or convergence, of who the two of you are - your spirits merging. People ask, "How was it for you?" The reply is often, "It was great." But is this really the right question and answer? Instead, personalize your question and ask, "How are you?" Respond with depth. Gaze into each other's eyes and speak your truth: "I'm over the moon," or "I love you," or "I melted and I'm just coming back into myself. — Alexandra Katehakis

5. If You Love, Love Openly
Twenty monks and one nun, who was named Eshun, were practicing meditation with a certain Zen master.
Eshun was very pretty even though her head was shaved and her dress plain. Several monks secretly fell in love with her. One of them wrote her a love letter, insisting upon a private meeting.
Eshun did not reply. The following day the master gave a lecture to the group, and when it was over, Eshun arose. Addressing the one who had written her, she said: If you really love me so much, come and embrace me now. — Nyogen Senzaki

DEMON MATH
What is JUST in a world
you've ripped in two
as if there could be
a half for me
a half for you
what is FAIR when
there is nothing
left to share
what is YOURS when
your pain is mine to bear
this sad math is mine
this mad path is mine
subtract they say
don't cry
back to the desk
try
forget addition
multiply
and i reply
this is why
remainders
hate
division. — Kami Garcia

Do village girls reply with love letters to the boys? No, village girls invented body and sign language. — Victor Ehikhamenor

Giving someone shit, Rodney knew was a sign of love in Catholic families. And the same held true for Rodney and his friends. But he wished it weren't Keith's default setting, his auto-reply to everything. — Steve Rushin

I'll be back," she said. "Very soon."
He needed to reply. He needed to say Good, come back; better, Don't go; or better still, I'll join you. He wanted to say, Your neck is beautiful. He wanted to say, I never ever thought my life would hold this, and if your leaving is what I must give for what I was given, then it was worth it.
But the children were all around and Mr Abasi was calling out and motioning for her to come, and anyway, he knew now, if he hadn't known before, that there were limitations to words - words in the air or on a page. — Masha Hamilton

If we ask of the saints how they achieved spiritual effectiveness, they are only able to reply that, insofar as they did it themselves, they did it by love and prayer. — Evelyn Underhill