Someone You Once Knew Quotes & Sayings

When I say I'm going to forget you I know it's impossible to forget someone I once knew. What I want is to erase you from my thoughts and purge you from my memories. I'm saying it's what I wish for, not what is or could ever be. — Donna Lynn Hope

You don't need to be seeing someone to be in love with her. You can have lost touch with her, she can have hurt you, even inexplicably. If you ever felt that you really knew her and that it was what you knew that you loved, and if you remember what it was you once knew, why is it so crazy to retain that love still? — Elliot Perlman

Later, while she was sleeping, she woke to the sound of Ray moving through the house. At first she confused. She thought she was still married to Bill. Then, when she had everythbing straight in her head, shame washed over her because she had denied her first husband when she had told Ray that no man had ever been as good to her as he had. But it was true, wasn't it? She lay in bed, listening to him opening cabinets, and she knew it was impossible to say what was between people, and the longer you were with someone, the harder it was to even come close. All she knew was that once she had been with Bill and now she was with Ray. She had come out of her old life and into a new one, and even if she wished for it, which she didn't-not really, she didn't, not even in her heart of hearts-she couldn't go back.
~Clare — Lee Martin

I said once that my idea of happiness is to always be with you, and it is. I'm always going to think of you as the source of everything. To me, the sun rises and sets on you. You make all things true. I am in love with you, and I cannot imagine being in love with anyone else. It would be like becoming someone else. Your name was the first word for love I ever knew. — Sarah Rees Brennan

And I thought I knew him. I knew him; I repeat it in my head bitterly. It's a funny thing to say, you know, to think that you know someone. Well, maybe once I DID know him, but I just wasn't smart enough to notice him change, because people do change, sometimes we just choose not to notice it. — Melanie Sargsian

Though Alec had never seen the occupants of the first floor loft, they seemed to be engaged in a tempestuous romance. Once there had been a bunch of someone's belongings strewn all over the landing with a note attached to a jacket lapel addressed to "A lying liar who lies." Right now there was a bouquet of flowers taped to the door with a card tucked among the blooms that read I'M SORRY. That was the thing about New York: you always knew more about your neighbors' business than you wanted to. — Cassandra Clare

I was slow to pick up on their hints. I knew what the Selection was, but never, not even once, had it been suggested as an option for any of us, let alone me.
"No."
Mom put up her hands, cautioning me. "Just listen-"
"A Selection?" I burst out. "That's insane!"
"Eadlyn, you're being irrational. "
I glared at her. "You promised- you promised- you'd never force me into marrying someone for an alliance. How is this any better?"
"Hear us out," she urged.
"No!" I shouted. "I won't do it. — Kiera Cass

Back in the 1800's, Ormsby Island was one of South Carolina's crown jewels. The island was owned by Maxwell Ormsby, a very wealthy man who liked to entertain everyone from heads of state to artists and authors and anyone who knew how to make money in business. An invitation to the island was a declaration that you were someone on the move. Once a year, Ormsby opened the island up to the public and hosted a huge fair. It was the social event of the year in these parts. My family still talks about the days when my great grandmother would take the family out to enjoy the festivities. It must have been some party. — Hunter Shea

Uh, Miss Carlson," I said, standing at her desk after everybody else had gone on to their next class, "somebody told me you went to that guy's funeral the one the highway patrol shot."
"Yes," SHe said. "I did."
She didn't look like she was mad at me about it. She had real long eyelashes. I bet she was good-looking when she was young.
"Was he a relative or something?" That was what I was afraid of.
"No. Not even a friend really." She paused, like she was hunting for the right words. Finally she said, "I read a book once that ended with the words 'the incommunicable past' You can only share the past with someone who's shared it with you. So I can't explain to you what Mark was to me, exactly. I knew him a long time ago. — S.E. Hinton

Clean boyfriend someday. I love you. Joe. On the other side was a photograph of the Sylvia Beach Hotel on the Oregon coast, where we'd stayed together once. I stared at the photograph for several moments, a series of feelings washing over me in waves: grateful for a word from someone I knew, nostalgic for Joe, disappointed that only one person had written to me, and heartbroken, unreasonable as it was, that the one person who had wasn't Paul. I bought two bottles of Snapple lemonade, a king-sized Butterfinger, and a bag of Doritos and went outside and sat on the front steps, devouring the things I'd purchased while reading the postcard over and over again. After a while, I noticed a box in the corner of the porch stuffed — Cheryl Strayed

She turned down her street once more, glaring at the garish lights someone had put up along their house. Might as well light the roof with "Santa Park Here". Sheesh. The closer she got to home, though, the lower her heart sank. The overly bright house looked suspiciously like ... No. Oh, no. He wouldn't. He had. Light up animated animals were dotted all over her lawn. The circle of life has apparently found our power outlet. And why the fuck is there a Star of David on my roof? She wasn't exactly the most church-going member of the community, but you'd think Simon would know what religion she was. After all, she knew exactly who was going to officiate at his funeral. She picked up her cell phone and called Emma. "I'm going to kill him. — Dana Marie Bell

Someone once asked me if I knew the feeling of fear. Oh, I knew fear. Well, really speaking I never feared any fucker at that time; I've got to be honest. But I knew fear, the fear of losing! There was never any fear of combat! My father instilled that fear in to me and that was what drove me on to win ... the fear of what was to come after you went home saying you'd lost! — Stephen Richards

He stood over her for a time, simply looking at her as he willed himself to climb into bed, and he knew doing so would make it utterly impossible to hate her. She looked so innocent and vulnerable as she dreamt, and it was difficult to hate someone once you had seen them sleeping. — Ash Gray

I'm positive I wouldn't consider having sex with Guy if I hadn't already had sex beforehand. I always knew I wanted my first time to be with someone I loved and who loved me, which it was ... but shouldn't I want that for every
time? I disagree with what Amy said about how once you go all the way, you can't go back to "everything but." But now that I have done it, it doesn't seem nearly as big a deal to do it again. — Daria Snadowsky

A time will come when it won't pass.'
The gunslinger made no reply, for he knew this was true. The trap had a ghastly perfection. If someone told you you'd go to hell if you thought about seeing your mother naked (once when the gunslinger was very young he had been told this very thing), you'd eventually do it. And why? Because you did not want to imagine your mother naked. Because you did not want to go to hell. Because, if given a knife and a hand in which to hold it, the mind would eventually eat itself. Not because it wanted to; because it did not want to. — Stephen King

Ah, the beautiful Celine," Desmund said, earning a smile from her. "Did I ever tell you that you remind me of a courtesan I knew once in King George's court? She was stunning to look upon and much sought after."
Celine toyed with her hair. "You flatter me, Desmund. Was she someone of noble birth?"
"No, but I believe she serviced a duke or two."
I choked on my water. Tristan reached over to pat my back, while smiling graciously at the outraged woman. — Karen Lynch

I read a book once - about love that was developed and love that just is," I paused. "And when I read the part about love that just is I scoffed. I knew better. I knew that it was merely words written by some shallow man that wanted to say what he had to say. And then I met you. And I now, Kelli, know what it is that books are written about. I know what people write poems about, I know what it feels like to know, and I do mean know what it feels like to be certain that someone loves you unconditionally. Love that just is, — Scott Hildreth

When someone you love disappears, it's like the light goes dim, and you're in the shadows. You try to do what people tell you: put one foot in front of the other; keep looking up; give yourself over to the seconds and minutes and hours. But always there's taht glimmer of light-that way of living you once knew-sort of faded and smoky like the crescent moon on a winter's night when the air is full of ice and clouds, but still there, hanging just over your head. You think it's not far. Your think at any moment you can reach out and grab it. — Lee Martin

Someone once told me that the finer points of devotion are about the size of a pinhole, and there are millions of them. And if you could connect each dot, then you've got a diagram of what you think you thought you knew, and if you're willing to admit that you know nothing ... you have the blueprint for a breakthrough. — Shane Koyczan

I have not yet proven myself."
"I don't care if you succeed or not."
"But I do. And pretending. there is a future for us, allowing myself to hope, to-" he reached out and touched her soft cheek.
"It would only make it more difficult for me when the inevitable happens." He held her gaze, willing her to see all the sentiments he knew he should not express.
"The inevitable?"
He sighed. "When you marry someone else." There he'd said it. What should she do now, now that he had taken her no doubt light flirtation and carried it out to its logical conclusion like a killjoy?
"Who says it's inevitable?" She pouted, and he saw a glimpse of the adorable little girl she's once been.
He smiled indulgently. "I do." He leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek.
"And it's time that you accepted that fact as well."
He resolutely stepped to the door and gestured for her to precede him from the room. — Julie Klassen

Ever heard someone tell you that hard physical labor can be soothing? Can take your mind off your problems? Can leave you feeling better? I'd heard that. In my opinion, hard physical labor gives you blisters, and the only real distraction I got was trying to remember the spells I'd once known for curing them. He was much better than me, by the way; turns out there is even skill involved in digging holes. Who knew? — Steven Brust

We'd walk home together in the foggy summer night and I'd tell her about sex; the good stuff, like how it could be warm and exciting
it took you away
and the not-so-good things, like how once you showed someone that part of yourself, you had to trust them one thousand percent and anything could happen. Someone you thought you knew could change and suddenly not want you, suddenly decide you made a better story than a girlfriend. Or how sometimes you might think you wanted to do it and then halfway through or afterward realize no, you just wanted the company, really; you wanted someone to choose you, and the sex part itself was like a trade-off, something you felt like you had to give to get the other part. I'd tell her that and help her decide. I'd be a friend. — Sara Zarr

I wondered whether I wanted to hear more. The Jean business was long over, but even when you have ceased to love someone, that does not necessarily bring an indifference to a past shared together. Besides, though love may die, vanity lives on timelessly. I knew that I must be prepared to hear things I should not like. Yet, although where unfaithfulness reigns, ignorance may be preferable to knowledge, at the same time, once knowledge is brutally born, exactitude is preferable to uncertainty. — Anthony Powell

If they knew what you had done to them, if they knew how you had denied them, forgotten them, buried them, they could not ever love like they once did and the cruelest thing you can do to someone is to share the rot and rob them of the glorious mystery of being in love because faith in it is really all anyone ever has to know. — Keith Buckley

Alex leaned over and treated me to a Rhett Butler kiss, slow and deep but not too sweet. He once told Scarlett something to the effect of how badly she needed kissing, and by someone who knew what he was doing. Alex knew what he was doing. By the time he finished proving it, I was breathless. I rested my head on his shoulder, basking in his warmth and filling my lungs with his scent. "What was that for?"
"That was to show you how glad I am that we got out of that mess in one piece and that we're here together." He extracted his arm from around my shoulders and sat back. "Now let's talk about your crazy stunt."
Damn it, Rhett did that, too. He'd kiss Scarlett silly, then lecture her. — Suzanne Johnson

We all have a " someone " who we carry in our hearts sometimes for an entire lifetime. That one that just doesn't fully remove itself from your journey, reminded at coffee shops through scent and character of a stranger, or a song that you once shared. Years can go by without a thought and then one day you are reminded and it all comes crashing back. The one that could have been, the one that you never knew exactly how to say goodbye to. The one you wish to meet first in another life. — Nikki Rowe

At some point he realized that he knew how
she felt - once you know how much you love someone, no one else would do. — Robyn Carr

Imagination, she figured, just wasn't up to the task of understanding unique and foreign sensations. It knew only how to dampen or augment what it already knew. It would be like telling someone what sex felt like, or an orgasm. Impossible. But once you felt it yourself, you could then imagine varying degrees of this new sensation. — Hugh Howey

She had never met Caroline's mother, but she knew a thing or two about what happened when someone went far away, how after a time you couldn't see their faces anymore when you closed your eyes or hear exactly how they laughed at a joke, how they seemed less like a real person whom you loved and more like a character in a story. And once that happened, it was easy, too easy, to let them float away like milkweed. — Hannah Barnaby

The thing is, I don't know if these stories he was telling were mine, or his, or someone else's. You spend your life among words, listening, making sense out of what you say and out of what you imagine other people are saying to you, believing that something in particular happened like this or that, as a result of this or that, with these or those consequences. But it is never so simple, is it? I suppose that if we read about ourselves in a book, we wouldn't recognize ourselves, we wouldn't realize that those people doing certain things and behaving in a particular manner are us. I always believed that I knew Alejandro, that I knew him intimately, I mean, the way you might know a doll you've once taken to pieces. But it wasn't true. — Alberto Manguel

You know the saying that nothing can last forever? It's partly true. Feelings can stop, people can leave us, but regardless, a piece of them is always with us, in some way. Maybe it's in a song, or a forgotten note, a picture. Even when you no longer love someone or can't be with them, you still remember them, you still remember good parts of them, and you smile. Why worry about it lasting or not? Even if it doesn't, you'll still have a part of him. And he'll still have a part of you. And isn't that what's really important? Holding the best pieces of someone in our hearts so that the love never really fades, so that we don't forget that we once knew them, and they were special to us. — Lindy Zart

Why do you keep staring at me?" I muttered under my breath.
He glanced around to make sure no one was listening and then leaned towards me. His voice was hushed. "You have pen on your face. Here," he said, touching the space by his nose.
"Oh." I felt my face go red as I wiped my cheek with my hand.
"That and you remind me of someone I know. Or once knew. But I can't place who it is."
"I thought you didn't have any friends," I challenged.
Dante smiled. "I don't. Only enemies. Which doesn't bode well for you, considering the fact that you must resemble one of them. — Yvonne Woon

When I was younger, I thought the worst part about love was needing it. And that once you got it, no matter what kind it was, you would lose it. But by then you knew how it tasted, how it sounded, how it felt. To have someone whose presence brought you the utmost comfort. To have someone else whose brain fascinated you. To have someone special whose heart harmonized with yours. So although the worst part about love may be needing it, I have learned that the best part is having it. And that, to me, is what truly matters. — Alice

Only someone you loved could make you wear that kind of expression. Someone who had once loved you knew how to get to the part of you where the pain lived. — Dorothy Koomsoon

I used to think I couldn't go a day without your smile. Without telling you things and hearing your voice back.
Then, that day arrived and it was so damn hard but the next was harder. I knew with a sinking feeling it was going to get worse, and I wasn't going to be okay for a very long time.
Because losing someone isn't an occasion or an event. It doesn't just happen once. It happens over and over again. I lose you every time I pick up your favorite coffee mug; whenever that one song plays on the radio, or when I discover your old t-shirt at the bottom of my laundry pile.
I lose you every time I think of kissing you, holding you, or wanting you. I go to bed at night and lose you, when I wish could tell you about my day. And in the morning, when I wake and reach for the empty space across the sheets, begin to lose you all over again. — Lang Leav

I hated when people thought they knew everything there was to know about a person. There was no room to be anything different in their minds. Once someone else decided who you were, you had to be that person forever, even if it wasn't really who you wanted to be. How could anyone be. How could anyone know who they really were with all of this outside pressure to be what others expected? — Shana Norris

She has a bookshelf for a heart, and ink runs through her veins, she'll write you into her story with the typewriter in her brain. Her bookshelf's getting crowded. With all the stories that's she's penned, of all the people who flicked through her pages but closed the book before it ended. And there's one pushed to the very back, that sits collecting dust, with its title in her finest writing, 'The One's Who Lost My Trust'. There's books shes scared to open, and books she doesn't close. Stories of every person she's met stretched out in endless rows. Some people have only one sentence while others once held a main part, thousands of inky footprints that they've left across her heart. You might wonder why she does this, why write of people she once knew? But she hopes one day she'll mean enough for someone to write about her too. — E.H.

She still loved the profession and enjoyed the lives and piece to cameras, but she knew it was all a tad too farcical at times. There were far too many stories they reported and forgot. Far too many conflicts that were once headlines and had captured the imaginations of many now awaited resolution, stale and unwanted as yesterday's tea. It was hard to keep up your spirit when you started realizing it was just a job after all and that a headline did not change someone's destiny. Except maybe the reporter's if she or he was picked up by a rival channel for better pay. So getting into the profession wanting to make a difference and working for the greater good as the journalists of yore had done was certainly not an option anymore. — Shweta Ganesh Kumar

I used to think that once we started going out, Derek would change. When I admitted that to Tori, she nearly laughed herself into an aneurysm and gave me a lecture on the stupidity of expecting to change a guy. Maybe I didn't have her dating experience, but I knew you didn't go out with someone because you thought you'd change him. That wasn't what I'd meant. I liked Derek the way he was. I'd just hoped getting closer would mean landing on the sharp side of his tongue less often. — Kelley Armstrong

Strange how someone you once loved can become just another person you once knew. — Nicki Minaj

On the other hand, men are sometimes wildly inappropriate in the way they share with women. By a show of hands, how many of you have seen a strange penis on the street? On the subway? At a sleepover? I was once walking with my friend Keri in the middle of the day and some guy asked us for the time. When we looked down at our watches, his dick was in his hands. We giggled and screamed and ran away. We were probably ten. I have been really drunk in high school and had a guy try to fool around with me. I have been called a bitch and a lesbian when I rejected a guy in college. I have locked eyes with various subway masturbators. I have been mugged but not raped, pushed and spit on by someone I knew, and forced to pull over in a road-rage incident where a man stuck his head into my car and told me he was going to "cum in my face." And I count myself very lucky. That is what "very lucky" feels like. Oof. — Amy Poehler