Mild Love Quotes & Sayings

In all honesty Phoebe never actually gave much thought to being Kevin's girlfriend. She fell into their relationship the way others fall asleep at the wheel. She hadn't known guys could be that sweet. Or maybe it hadn't occurred to her before that she might be attracted to someone who didn't treat her like a mild irritant. And he told her he loved her. Moreover, there were tines when she thought she loved Kevin, too. Though what she probably loved even more than Kevin was the idea of someone being in love with her. It seemed like a radical notion. It seemed like the "real thing — Lucinda Rosenfeld

To give up another person's love is a mild suicide; like a very bad inoculation as compared to the full disease. — Wyndham Lewis

With a gentle push, and a mild arc, the old cowhide globe hits home."

Yo-yoing"

Leapin' leaner"

Hippity-hop"

Good if it goes!"

Frozen rope"

Belt-high dribble"

It's in the ol' refrigerator."

Looking down the barrel"

You gotta love it, baby! — Hot Rod Hundley

It may be relatively mild when expressed as criticism, anger, or feelings of severe frustration. Criticism has a negative influence on the feelings of love for and interest in one's spouse. — H. Burke Peterson

Love in all its forms is very difficult ... to express. It changes, obviously. If you're young, and you're romantically in love with somebody, and often if you've just met somebody, its crazy! It's completely overwhelming. You can't think of anything else. You just want to climb inside the other person and live under their pancreas. And then it mellows, somewhat ... to the point where you can barely look at them ... without feeling a mild distaste — Dylan Moran

it is a pleasure, a kind of mild masochism, to have all the beautiful things belong to someone you love and none to yourself. — Fletcher Flora

FALK. I feel myself like God's lost prodigal; I left Him for the world's delusive charms. With mild reproof He wooed me to His arms; And when I come, He lights the vaulted hall, Prepares a banquet for the son restored, And makes His noblest creature my reward. From this time forth I'll never leave that Light, - But stand its armed defender in the fight; Nothing shall part us, and our life shall prove A song of glory to triumphant love! — Henrik Ibsen

My mother's mild-eyed sadness looks at me from the eyes of those I love. — Mason Cooley

I learned by heart the lines of your face. I can draw them blindly on a water canvas.
Your face in the middle of an inflamed argument. Your face in the middle of a mild one-- when you're at fault.
Your face filled with rainbows of laughter. Your face filled with clouds of distress.
Your face, fluttering, when I open you the door. Your face, agonizing, every time I stand waiting, for the elevator.
Your face, eager, when you kiss me. Your face, surprised, when I lead you to bed.
Your face in the middle of pain. Your face on the outskirts of pleasure.
Your face, with a baffled look, when you wake up. Your face falling asleep, with total surrender.
Your face the first night we met. Your face the last night we parted.
I learned by heart the lines of your face. They all led me into hell.
They all led me into heaven. — Malak El Halabi

Live at the verge of insanity, be wild.
Life is too precious to be so tame and mild. — Debasish Mridha

His tone is mild, but there is, and always has been, something a little deeper and more resonant about his voice. It has a slightly different timbre than more voices. Its the kind of thing you forget until you hear it again and remember. Oh yes, His voice has music. — Ally Condie

I dived for it, caught it three inches above the cement, and found myself face-to-face with the salamander. Ruby-red eyes regarded me with mild curiosity, black lips parted, and a long, spiderweb-thin filament of a tongue slithered from the salamander's mouth and kissed the sphere's glass in the reflection of my nose. Hi, I love you, too. — Ilona Andrews

She feel these hands tremble, and she could feel Mr. Kidder's excitement. How eager she was to be gone from this room. Her heart was beating in mild revulsion from the man's touch, but Katya forced herself to remain still, politely unresisting. In Mr. Kidder's eyes, which brimmed with moisture, Katya saw such tenderness for her, such desire, or love, she felt that her throat might close, she might begin to cry. Gravely Mr. Kidder lowered his face to hers. Katya held her breath, but he just brushed his lips against her forehead and did not try to kiss her on the mouth. — Joyce Carol Oates

They might be kind, I thought. They might be sensible and good. They will not be like you.
But I did not say it. I knew it would mean nothing to her. I said something - something ordinary and mild, I cannot think what. And after a time she came and kissed my cheek, and then she left me. — Sarah Waters

Miss Marionetta Celestina O'Carroll was a very blooming and accomplished young lady. Being a compound of the Allegro Vivace of the O'Carrolls, and of the Andante Doloroso of the Glowries, she exhibited in her own character all the diversities of an April sky. Her hair was light-brown; her eyes hazel, and sparkling with a mild but fluctuating light; her features regular; her lips full, — Thomas Love Peacock

Even in the Moment of Our Earliest Kiss

Even in the moment of our earliest kiss,
When sighed the straitened bud into the flower,
Sat the dry seed of most unwelcome this;
And that I knew, though not the day and hour.
Too season-wise am I, being country-bred,
To tilt at autumn or defy the frost:
Snuffing the chill even as my fathers did,
I say with them, "What's out tonight is lost."
I only hoped, with the mild hope of all
Who watch the leaf take shape upon the tree,
A fairer summer and a later fall
Than in these parts a man is apt to see,
And sunny clusters ripened for the wine:
I tell you this across the blackened vine. — Edna St. Vincent Millay

I know you may not love me, Gabrielle, but I thought you had some affection for me. Perhaps I was wrong." His voice, gone quiet, was even scarier than his previous angry shouting. "You know better," Gabi said quietly. "I ... I don't know if what we share is love. The word seems too mild to explain what I feel for you. It's not cute or schmaltzy or romantic. It scares me." Her voice had dropped to a whisper. "The thought of being without you, it's worse than contemplating death. — Sharon Hannaford

Our children forever changed our relationships with our mothers. Pity replaced the mild contempt with which we had previously regarded them, and we loved them as we never had before, as we could only love ourselves, because despite our best intentions we had become them. — Anthony Marra

His love for his children bore down on his heart with the weight of three heavy stones. There were all his unnamed fears for them, and hopes for them. There was all he was powerless to change, including who they were
one too mild, one too easily tempted to be cruel, and the little girl (it was the weight of a heavy stone against his heart) a mystery to him, impossible to say what she, through her life, would need. And soon, one more. — Alice McDermott

With thee conversing I forget all time,
All seasons and their change, all please alike.
Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet,
With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the sun
When first on this delightful land he spreads
His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower,
Glistering with dew; fragrant the fertile earth
After soft showers; and sweet the coming on
Of grateful evening mild, then silent night
With this her solemn bird and this fair moon,
And these the gems of heav'n, her starry train:
But neither breath of morn when she ascends
With charm of earliest birds, nor rising sun
On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, flower,
Glistring with dew, nor fragrance after showers,
Nor grateful evening mild, nor silent night
With this her solemn bird, nor walk by moon,
Or glittering starlight without thee is sweet. — John Milton

If passionate love is the coke of love, companionate love is like having a glass of wine or smoking a few hits of some mild weed. That makes it sound a little better than the uncle thing, right? We all like booze and weed more than we like our relatives, right? — Aziz Ansari

...The happy Warrior... is he... whose powers shed round him in the common strife, or mild concerns of ordinary life, a constant influence, a peculiar grace; but who, if he be called upon to face some awful moment to which Heaven has joined great issues, good or bad for human kind, is happy as a lover; and attired with sudden brightness, like a man inspired; and, through the heat of conflict, keeps the law in calmness made, and sees what he foresaw; or if an unexpected call succeed, come when it will, is equal to the need: he who, though thus endued as with a sense and faculty for storm and turbulence, is yet a soul whose master-bias leans to homefelt pleasures and to gentle scenes; sweet images! which, wheresoe'er he be, are at his heart; and such fidelity it is his darling passion to approve; more brave for this, that he hath much to love:- — William Wordsworth

for Christ is set out here as a mild Saviour to weak ones; and, for time to come, his powerful care and love is never interrupted, until he bring forth judgment to victory. And thereupon it is that both the means of salvation and grace wrought by means, and glory the perfection of grace, come all under one name of the kingdom of God so oft; because whom by means he brings to grace, he will by grace bring to glory. — Richard Sibbes

I want to be loved so badly, it verges on mild insanity. — Gary Shteyngart

Grinning, she asked, "Where did the mild mannered gardener go to? I barely remember this man." "Get used to him," I said as I walked toward the bathroom to clean up before we headed out. "He's back to claim his life and all that he's missed, and that includes you, Miss Edwards." "Oooh, I do love it when you go all alpha on me," she said with a chuckle as I closed the door. — K.M. Scott

But it is possible, it is possible: the old grief, by a great mystery of human life, gradually passes into quiet, tender joy; instead of young, ebullient blood comes a mild, serene old age: I bless the sun's rising each day and my heart sings to it as before, but now I love its setting even more, its long slanting rays, and with them quiet, mild, tender memories, dear images from the whole of a long and blessed life
and over all is God's truth, moving, reconciling, all-forgiving! — Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Men and women consume one another rapidly in what is called "the act of love," or else settle down to a mild habit of conjugality. We seldom find a mean between these two extremes. — Albert Camus

Yet,'said Maturin, pursuing his own thought, 'there is a quality in dogs, I must confess, rarely to be seen elsewhere and that is affection: I do not mean the violent possessive protective love for their owner but rather that mild, steady attachment to their friends that we see quite often in the best sort of dog. And when you consider the rarity of plain disinterested affection among our own kind, once we are adult, alas - when you consider how immensely it enhances daily life and how it enriches a man's past and future, so that he can look backward and forward with complacency - why, it is a pleasure to find it in brute creation. — Patrick O'Brian

I believe I may assert that they were really in possession of deep and growing happiness. It ended. Well, we must be for ourselves in the long run; the mild and generous are only more justly selfish than the domineering- and it ended when circumstances caused each to feel that the one's interest was not in the chief consideration in the other's thoughts. — Emily Bronte

Don't you ever cry again, Miss Zarish," he said in a strict but mild tone. "I would rather die than see tears in your eyes. — Sara Naveed

Love was now a mild streamlet that advanced in drips around my feet; despite how hard I worked at tenderness, I could not drown in a thing that shallow. — Darin Strauss

Thou silent power, whose welcome sway charms every anxious thought away; in whose divine oblivion drown'd, sore pain and weary toil grow mild, love is with kinder looks beguiled, and Grief forgets her fondly cherish'd wound; oh, whither hast thou flown, indulgent god? God of kind shadows and of healing dews, whom dost thou touch with thy Lethaean rod? Around whose temples now thy opiate airs diffuse? — Mark Akenside

I love romantic comedies. I feel almost sheepish writing that, because the genre has been so degraded in the past twenty years or so that admitting you like these movies is essentially an admission of mild stupidity. But that has not stopped me from watching them. — Mindy Kaling

For the joy of human love, brother, sister, parent, child,
Friends on earth and friends above, for all gentle thoughts and mild;
Christ, our God, to Thee we raise this our Sacrifice of grateful praise. — Folliott Sandford Pierpoint

Tate practically raised you from what I hear. You love him, don't you?"
Her face closed up. "For all the good it will ever do me, yes," she said softly.
"He won't have the excuse of pure Lakota blood much longer," he advised.
"I'm not holding out for miracles anymore," she vowed. "I'm going to stop wanting what I can never have. From now on, I'll take what I can get from life and be satisfied with it. Tate will have to find his own way."
"That's sour grapes," he observed.
"You bet it is. What do you want me to do to help?"
"It's dangerous," he pointed out, hesitating as he considered her youth. "I don't know ... "
"I'm a card-carrying archeologist," she reminded him. "Haven't you ever watched an Indiana Jones movies? We're all like that," she told him with a wicked grin. "Mild-mannered on the outside and veritable world-tamers inside. I can get a whip and a fedora, too, if you like," she added. — Diana Palmer

Zeal is that pure and heavenly flame,The fire of love supplies ;While that which often bears the name,Is self in a disguise.True zeal is merciful and mild,Can pity and forbear ;The false is headstrong, fierce and wild,And breathes revenge and war. — John Newton

In my mind, MDMA is a mild drug. People who prefer it to the typical psychedelics tend not to do well when stressed, either by life or by taking more potent mind-bending drugs. MDMA is what I like to call a "love and light" drug, one that accentuates the positive and minimizes the negative. If only life were so simple. — Rick Strassman

The priest rose to take up the crucifix; at that, she strained her neck forward like someone who is thirsty, and, pressing her lips to the body of the Man-God, she laid upon it with all her expiring strength the most passionate kiss of love she had ever given. Then he recited the Miserateur and the Indulgentiam, dipped his right thumb in the oil, and began he unctions: first on the eyes, which had so coveted all earthly splendors; then on the nostrils, greedy for mild breezes and the smells of love; then on the mouth, which had opened to utter lies, which had moaned with pride and cried out in lust; then on the hands, which had delighted in the touch of smooth material; and lastly on the soles of the feet, once so quick when she hastened to satiate her desires and which now would never walk again. — Vladimir Nabokov

I am not a poor child, Lady Eleanor," Madelyne announced, letting her anger sound in her voice.
"Duncan won't marry you. He won't sign the contracts. He'd have to give up his greatest treasure in order to marry you."
"And what be that treasure?" Lady Eleanor inquired, her voice mild.
"Why, I'm Duncan's greatest treasure. He'd be a fool to give me up," she added. "And even you must know that Duncan is anything but a fool. — Julie Garwood

After the fierce midsummer all ablaze
Has burned itself to ashes, and expires
In the intensity of its own fires,
There come the mellow, mild, St. Martin days
Crowned with the calm of peace, but sad with haze.
So after Love has led us, till he tires
Of his own throes, and torments, and desires,
Comes large-eyed friendship: with a restful gaze,
He beckons us to follow, and across
Cool verdant vales we wander free from care.
Is it a touch of frost lies in the air?
Why are we haunted with a sense of loss?
We do not wish the pain back, or the heat;
And yet, and yet, these days are incomplete. — Ella Wheeler Wilcox

I cried, sitting by her bed, and I told her the story of us. "It's about the feed," I said. "It's about this meg normal guy, who doesn't think about anything until one wacky day, when he meets a dissident with a heart of gold." I said, "Set against the backdrop of America in its final days, it's the high-spirited story of their love together, it's laugh-out-loud funny, really heartwarming, and a visual feast." I picked up her hand and held it to my lips. I whispered to her fingers. "Together, the two crazy kids grow, have madcap escapades, and learn an important lesson about love. They learn to resist the feed. Rated PG-13. For language," I whispered, "and mild sexual situations. — M T Anderson

The snag in this business of falling in love, aged relative, is that the parties of the first part so often get mixed up with the wrong parties of the second part, robbed of their cooler judgement by the party of the second part's glamour. Put it like this: the male sex is divided into rabbits and non-rabbits and the female sex into dashers and dormice, and the trouble is that the male rabbit has a way of getting attracted by the female dasher (who would be fine for the non-rabbit) and realizing too late that he ought to have been concentrating on some mild, gentle dormouse with whom he could settle down peacefully and nibble lettuce. — P.G. Wodehouse

The baron reminds me of someone, but I can't quite put my finger on who it is," Ramsey remarked.
"I swear my own father never talked to me the way Gillian's uncle just did."
"Your father died before you were old enough to know him."
"It was humiliating, damn it. He sure as certain wasn't what I expected. The way Gillian talked about him, I pictured a mild-mannered gentleman. She thinks he's ... gentle. Is the woman blind? How in God's name can she love such a crotchety old ... "
Ramsey's head snapped up, and he suddenly burst into laughter, breaking Brodick's train of thought. "It's you."
"What?"
"Morgan ... he reminds me of you. My God, Gillian married a man just like her uncle. Look at the baron and you'll see yourself in twenty years."
"Are you suggesting I'm going to become a belligerent, foul-tempered old man?"
"Hell, you're already belligerent and foul-tempered. No wonder she fell in love with you," he drawled — Julie Garwood

THE HOUSE OF PAIN

Unto the Prison House of Pain none willingly

repair, -
The bravest who an entrance gain
Reluctant linger there,
For Pleasure, passing by that door, stays not to

cheer the sight.
And Sympathy but muffles sound and banishes the

light.

Yet in the Prison House of Pain things full of

beauty blow, -
Like Christmas-roses, which attain
Perfection 'mid the snow, -
Love, entering, in his mild warmth the darkest

shadows melt,
And often, where the hush is deep, the waft of

wings is felt.

Ah, me ! the Prison House of Pain ! - what lessons
there are bought ! -
Lessons of a sublimer strain
Than any elsewhere taught, -
Amid its loneliness and gloom, grave meanings

grow more clear,
For to no earthly dwelling-place seems God so
strangely near ! — Florence Earle Coates

Cabal regarded her with mild amusement. "Smile when you whisper," he advised her. "You're supposed to be flirting with me, if you recall?"
She stared at him icily. Then suddenly her expression thawed and she smiled winsomely, her eyes dewy with romantic love. "Oh, sweetheart ... somebody tried to kill you? Whosoever would do such a thing to my nimpty-bimpty snookums?"
Cabal could not have been more horrified if she'd pulled off her face to reveal a gaping chasm of eternal night from which glistening tentacles coiled and groped. That had already happened to him once in his life, and he wasn't keen to repeat the experience.
"What?" he managed in a dry whisper.
"Smile when you whisper," she said, her expression fixed and blood-curdlingly coquettish. You're supposed to be flirting with me, remember?"
"Please don't do that. — Jonathan L. Howard

It clearly appears that there are no races in the world, however rude, uncultivated, barbarous, gross, or almost brutal they may be, who cannot be persuaded and brought to a good order and way of life, and made domestic, mild and tractable, provided ... the method that is proper and natural to men is used; that is, love and gentleness and kindness. — Bartolome De Las Casas

Maybe that's the way of love. It doesn't wait to be invited in, and it won't be coerced. It gently creeps under your skin, a mild itch at first, not giving itself away in case you scratch it and cause an infection. But then it sinks in deeper, getting into your bloodstream. It travels. By the time it reaches your brain and you're aware of the infection, it's already taken over your heart. In Natalie's experience, love is anything but innocent. It's a captor, a guard, imprisoning you in the clutches of another, knitting the fabric of your own life to somebody else's, whether you like it or not. — Nigel Jay Cooper

At first I wasn't all that tempted by him, but then he killed the spider. Which was a huge point in his favor."
"Absolutely. I love men who kill bugs."
"And then when I was freaking out and couldn't breathe, he was so ... gentle." Zoe sighed and colored, remembering. "He was holding me, and talking to me in that voice ... you know, sort of low and rough around the edges ... "
"All the Nolans sound like that," Justine said reflectively. "Like they've got a mild case of bronchitis. Totally hot. — Lisa Kleypas

Love, safety, belongingness and respect from other people are almost panaceas for the situational disturbances and even for some of the mild character disturbances. — Abraham Maslow

Real misery delights not in reproaches and complaints. It is like charity and love - silent, long suffering and mild. — Lady Caroline Lamb

Just to be tender, just to be true, Just to be glad the whole day through, Just to be merciful, just to be mild, Just to be trustful as a child, Just to be gentle and kind and sweet, Just to be helpful with willing feet, Just to be cheery when things go wrong, Just to drive sadness away with song, Whether the hour is dark or bright, Just to be loyal to God and right Just to believe that God knows best, Just in His promise ever to rest, Just to let love be our daily key, That is God's will for you and me. Our Father and our God, You have shown me such great kindness and gentle mercy. Teach me to be gentle and kind too. Help me reach out to the lost in compassion and love to bring them gently to You through the person of Jesus Christ, through whom I pray. — Billy Graham

With ye, I don't want your land or money. I don't need power or prestige. I just want ye. I love ye, Aella. I love it when you're angry
and outspoken and killing things. I love ye when ye claw my back to
ribbons and scream to wake the dead. I love that ye are not meek or
mild, or willing to let others make your decisions." "Even if it does
drive you mental and I need to have the last word?" "Because ye do those
things." "So we're stuck together forever?" "And ever." "Seal it with a
kiss?" she asked with a sensuous smile. Her Scot did better than that.
He made short work of their clothes, his powerful hands ripping them
from their bodies while she laughed, a young, girlish sound, carefree
and wanton. — Eve Langlais

I think that there are definitely a handful of women in the world that were born of grace, so miraculously mild and terribly true ... and nobody understands them. They end up trying to make men love them, when that's the last thing they should be trying to do! A diamond belongs to those who can recognise what it is, not to those who need convincing. Yes, only a few know what a diamond looks and feels like, but, what's the rush anyway? — C. JoyBell C.

How we all love extreme cases and apocalypses, fires, drownings, stranglings, and the rest of it. The bigger our mild, basically ethical, safe middle classes grow the more radical excitement is in demand. Mild or moderate truthfulness or accuracy seems to have no pull at all. — Saul Bellow

You must find a boy your own age. Someone mild and beautiful to be your lover. Someone who will tremble for your touch, offer you a marguerite by its long stem with his eyes lowered. Someone whose fingers are a poem. — Janet Fitch

Once we get over the mild jolt to our pride - I would like my spouse to love me because she thinks I am the greatest male alive - we couldn't ask for anything better. The character of God is the basis for our connection to him, not our intrinsic worth. Self-worth, or anything we think would make us acceptable to God, would suit our pride but it has the disturbing side-effect of making the cross of Jesus Christ less valuable. If we have worth in ourselves, there is no reason to connect to the infinite worth of Jesus and receive what he has done for us. So if you feel unworthy of God's love, you can turn in one of two directions. You can turn inward, in which case you are looking for a little self-worth to bring to the Lord, and that is pride. Or you can turn to him and discover that he has a heart for the unworthy. He pursues those who, like Hagar, have no glory or honor in themselves. — Edward T. Welch