Somewhere Between Love Quotes & Sayings

(W.D.) Howells asserted that the Americans' 'love of the supernatural is their common inheritance from no particular ancestry.' Their fiction, he added, often gathers in the gray 'twilight of the reason,' on 'the borderland between experience and illusion. Howells's geographical metaphor was derived, of course, from Hawthorne's idea of a moonlit 'neutral territory, somewhere between the real world and fairy-land, where the Actual and the Imaginary may meet, and each imbue itself with the nature of the other.' Whether literally, as in Cooper's The Spy, or metaphorically, as in Hawthorne's works, the neutral territory/borderland was the familiar setting of the American romance. As American writers came to realize, not only was there a borderland between East and West, civilization and wilderness, but also between the here and the hereafter, between conscious and unconscious, 'experience and illusion' - psychic frontiers on the edge of territories both enticing and terrifying. — Howard Kerr

Somewhere between the shower and the Red Bull I fell in love with you, Aves. I'm talking epically. There is no coming back from a fall like mine. — Kelly Oram

I should go," I said thickly. "Let me know when you want to start practice again. And thanks for ... talking."
I started to turn; then I heard him say abruptly, "No."
I glanced back. "What?"
He held my gaze, and something warm and wonderful and powerful shot between us.
"No," he repeated. "I told her no."
"I ... " I shut my mouth before my jaw hit the floor. "But ... why? That was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. You could have had a baby. And she ... she was, you know, into you ... "
The ghost of a smile flickered on his face. "Yes, she was. Is. And that's why I had to say no. I couldn't return that ... couldn't give her what she wanted. Not when ... " He took a few steps toward me. "Not when my heart is somewhere else. — Richelle Mead

But for me, if we're talking about romance, cassettes wipe the floor with MP3s. This has nothing to do with superstition, or nostalgia. MP3s buzz straight to your brain. That's part of what I love about them. But the rhythm of the mix tape is the rhythm of romance, the analog hum of a physical connection between two sloppy human bodies. The cassette is full of tape hiss and room tone; it's full of wasted space, unnecessary noise. Compared to the go-go-go rhythm of an MP3, mix tapes are hopelessly inefficient. You go back to a cassette the way a detective sits and pours drinks for the elderly motel clerk who tells stories about the old days
you know you might be somewhat bored, but there might be a clue in there somewhere. And if there isn't, what the hell? It's not a bad time. You know you will waste time. You plan on it. — Rob Sheffield

People like us are not good with words.
What we mean gets muddled and wrong
somewhere between our minds
and our mouths.

We make art to say how we feel.

Here: These are the chords
to Make You Feel My Love. — Clementine Von Radics

A romantic man often feels more uplifted with two women than with one: his love seems to hit the ideal mark somewhere between two different faces. — Elizabeth Bowen

You were created out of love and good."
"There is not good in her," he said sharply, lowering his chin, while twisting the steam between his fingers.
"There has to be somewhere, as there still is in you. I can sense it. You've just buried it. — Tania Penn

So they gave me love in form of poison and tiny little pills, programming my emotions, teaching me how to feel. To act correct and talk correct and answer without knowing the question, because that, my dear, is how you get love. Yes that, dear youth, is how you'll be loved. I tried to medicate my own fucked up little mind with chemicals and adrenaline, tasting sweeter every night, shaking louder every time. Sitting wide awake in bed until the world disappears, writing poetry to concentrate on something real while waiting for the love to arrive.
I've been looking for it night after night, waiting patiently for it to show up, maybe somewhere in between the state of awake and asleep, alive and not so alive, sober and not so sober.
(I lost track of the difference somewhere in between.) — Charlotte Eriksson

Alice might end up neither good nor bad. She might end up somewhere in between. That would make her very dangerous to know. That girl could be the bane of your life, a blight, a poison on everything you do. Or she might turn out to be the best and strongest friend you'll ever have. Someone who'll make all the difference in the world. I just don't know which way it will go. I can't see it, no matter how hard I try. — Joseph Delaney

It was a very new love growing inside of her heart - so new and so young that she felt fiercely protective of it. As though the seed of love had been planted in the warm earth of her heart several weeks ago, just now it was starting to sprout roots she knew would climb deep into her soul, with tiny green tendrils that would one day burst through her to entangle with his. Too little warmth or water or sun could make the seed wither, and with all of her heart and all of her soul, she wanted this love to grow deep and tall and strong, because somewhere deep and certain inside of her, she knew what was happening between her and Stratton could be the love of a lifetime. — Katy Regnery

Somewhere on the other side of this wide night
and the distance between us, I am thinking of you.
The room is turning slowly away from the moon.
This is pleasurable. Or shall I cross that out and say
it is sad? In one of the tenses I singing
an impossible song of desire that you cannot hear.
La lala la. See? I close my eyes and imagine the dark hills I would have to cross
to reach you. For I am in love with you
and this is what it is like or what it is like in words. — Carol Ann Duffy

You do know, right,
that between the no-

longer & the still-
to-come

you are being continually
tattooed, inked

with the skulls of
everyone

you've ever loved - the you
& the you

& the you & the you - you don't
sit in a chair, thumb

through a binder, pick a
design, it simply

happens each time you
bring your fingers to your face

to inhale him back into you . . .
tiny skulls, some of us are

covered. You, love, could

simply tattoo an open
door, light

pouring in from somewhere
outside, you

could make your body a door
so it appears you

(let her fill you) are made
of light. — Nick Flynn

As a bird swoops down on it's prey, and assumes this land bound wretch into heaven, so did romeo steal her lips before they fled him again. suspended somewhere between cherubs and devils, his quarry ceased to buck, and he spread his wings wide and let the rising wind carry them off across the sky, until even the predator himself had lost every hope of returning home. within that one embrace, [he] became aware of a feeling of certainty he had not thought possible for anyone - even the virtuous. with her in his arms, all other women, past, present, and future, simply ceased to exist. — Anne Fortier

...He's a wonderful person and I'd fall head over heels in love with him if I haven't already, there's no doubt about it. And there's no doubt that he'd eventually leave me. There's no way anything between us would go somewhere. I'm done with flings. I want the next thing--the real thing. — Karyn Bosnak

Humans can't be boiled down to a label or a one-word answer, so good or evil are not enough. We have likes and dislikes, hobbies and passions, love and hatred, some of which are good, others are evil, and still others are somewhere in between. The world isn't black and white, it's glorious bursting color, and we all have a palette with which to paint a masterpiece. — Trevor Parece

She felt the warmth of Peter's arm under her neck, and it almost felt like he was an extension of her, and like if they had souls, they lay somewhere snug between their two bodies. Maybe all of her strangeness, her curse, her always feeling like an outsider, had all existed so that she could belong here, with Peter. — Jodi Lynn Anderson

love means nothing. It's an invisible, fleeting moment. Somewhere between false adoration and pure hatred comes an emotion, a vulnerable need, a single desire. It lives within the ones who miss it, who crave it, who know better than to expect it. Love is relentless, even when the love turns to hate, turns to loathing, turns to death. ~ — Jay McLean

You're lucky your mother died,' she said.
I didn't like that. 'I'm lucky my mother died?'
Between sobs she said, 'Your mother would have stayed if she could. My mother chose to leave me. She's still out there somewhere. I wish she had died instead.'
I sat down next to her and put my arm around her. 'I'll never leave you.'
She laid her head on my shoulder. 'I know. — Richard Paul Evans

Coup de foudre; perhaps it was real. One went from believing, when twenty, that it was the one kind of love that was real, to believing, once closer to forty, that it was not only fragile but false
the inferior, infantile, doomed love of twenty-year-olds. Somewhere between, the norms of one culture of love were discarded, and those of the other assumed. When did it happen, at midnight of one's thirty-first birthday? On the variable day that, while browsing a grocery-store aisle with a man, the repeating refrain of the rest of one's life for the first time resounds in one's ear? — Susan Choi

Somewhere between the smiles, the laughing, the fights about nothing, and all our jokes, I fell in love. — Dawn Williams

Most songs are somewhere between love and death, and mine are no exception. — Robyn Hitchcock

The leaky-replacement hypothesis - assuming for the moment that it's correct - provides the strongest possible evidence for the closeness of Neanderthals and modern humans. The two may or may not have fallen in love; still, they made love. Their hybrid children may or may not have been regarded as monsters; nevertheless someone - perhaps Neanderthals at first, perhaps humans - cared for them. Some of these hybrids survived to have kids of their own, who, in turn, had kids, and so on up to the present day. Even now, at least thirty thousand years after the fact, the signal is discernible: all non-Africans, from the New Guineans to the French to the Han Chinese, carry somewhere between one and four percent Neanderthal DNA. One — Elizabeth Kolbert

They say love dies between two people. That's wrong. It doesn't die. It just leaves you, goes away, if you aren't good enough, worthy enough. It doesn't die; you're the the one that dies. It's like the ocean: if you're no good, if you begin to make a bad smell in it, it just spews you up somewhere to die. You die anyway, but I had rather drown in the ocean than be urped up onto a strip of dead beach and be dried away by the sun into a little foul smear with no name to it, just this was for an epitaph — William Faulkner

Sometimes it seems both our kids and our parents were smarter than we were. We fell somewhere between our parents' thirties idealism and our kids' eighties cynicism. Somewhere deep down we still believe that all we need is love, love, love. Somewhere deep down we question how we got grey hair. How on earth did we get to be the grown-ups?
The wonder is that our kids are growing up
despite all that we did to destroy them. — Erica Jong

My love is like a powder keg
My love is like a powder keg in the corner of an empty warehouse
Somewhere just outside of town
About to burn down
My love is like a Cuban plane
My love is like a Cuban plane flying from Havana
Up the Florida coast to the 'Glades
Soviet made
Our love is like the border between Greece and Albania
Our love is like the border between Greece and Albania
Trucks loaded down with weapons
Crossing over every night
Moon yellow and bright
There is a shortage in the blood supply
But there is no shortage of blood
The way I feel about you baby can't explain it
You got the best of my love — John Darnielle

O, were I loved as I desire to be!
What is there in the great sphere of the earth,
Or range of evil between death and birth,
That I should fear, - if I were loved by thee!
All the inner, all the outer world of pain,
Clear love would pierce and cleave, if thou wert mine;
As I have heard that somewhere in the main
Fresh-water springs come up through bitter brine.
'I were joy, not fear, clasped hand in hand with thee,
To wait for death - mute - careless of all ills,
Apart upon a mountain, though the surge
Of some new deluge from a thousand hills
Flung leagues of roaring foam into the gorge
Below us, as far on as eye could see. — Alfred Tennyson

Your voice tears me away from the reality that I exist and places my mind somewhere in between the infinity and beyond. Where everything is made of bliss and magic. Sometimes, I am scared of not hearing it again and never being able to get separated from this chaotic reality again. — Akshay Vasu

I guess the difference between Gin and me is that when Gin got shut in the barn she thought Edmond didn't love her anymore but because I could feel Edmond out there somewhere always loving me I didn't have to howl all night. — Meg Rosoff

Life was charmed but without politics or religion. It was the life of children of the children of the pioneers -life after God- a life of earthly salvation on the edge of heaven. Perhaps this is the finest thing to which we may aspire, the life of peace, the blurring between dream life and real life - and yet I find myself speaking these words with a sense of doubt. I think there was a trade-off somewhere along the line. I think the price we paid for our golden life was an inability to fully believe in love; instead we gained an irony that scorched everything it touched. And I wonder if this irony is the price we paid for the loss of God. — Douglas Coupland

I hold you in the safest place I keep. Somewhere between memories and scars. — Nicole Lyons

I'm stuck somewhere between hating him so much, I never want to see him again and never, ever wanting to him to let me go. — Jessica Love

I remembered the things we used to talk about, the things we'd planned. But now I wanted other things, new things, like the career that people at work kept telling me I was sure to have. I'd probably want the house and the kids and the husband one day, but not yet. There were so many things I wanted to do between now and then. I also knew that Park Slope wasn't the only place in planet to plant a flower garden. There were even better places out there somewhere. — Lorraine Zago Rosenthal

Perhaps there was no answer right from the start. Humans lose sight of this ... They fear the truth that they cannot comprehend. There are no true boundaries between good and evil in this world. Heaven and Hell do not really exist. The real truth is something you must discover for yourselves, as you stumble through suffering and confusion.
You suffering ... you dear ones ... We who dwell in Heaven ... There's only one thing I can do. I can pray that you all never have to be sad. I hope you meet the people that you love. Find the truth. Be happy. Never forget that you were born out of great love. We will meet again. Somewhere, somehow in the great pool of time. We will meet again. — Kaori Yuki

If you can find a passion at a young age, somewhere between fifteen and thirty, if you can find that passion, I can pretty much guarantee you that you can be sixty-five and still love that passion and still have a reason to dance out of bed and down the hall every morning. — Stevie Nicks

What I'm trying to get you to understand is that I get it that you think of women as fitting into two categories
whores and the Madonna. But I'm neither. I'm just Jessica, somewhere in between, and I love you and want you to accept me. — Erin McCarthy

Crazy isn't a condition it's a place and it exists somewhere between Love and Oblivion — Stanley Victor Paskavich

I've gotten convinced that there's something kind of timelessly vital and sacred about good writing. This thing doesn't have that much to do with talent, even glittering talent ... Talent's just an instrument. It's like having a pen that works instead of one that doesn't. I'm not saying I'm able to work consistently out of the premise, but it seems like the big distinction between good art and so-so art lies somewhere in the art's heart's purpose, the agenda of the consciousness behind the text. It's got something to do with love. With having the discipline to talk out of the part of yourself that can love instead of the part that just wants to be loved. — David Foster Wallace

It's always better when we're together, somewhere in between together. — Jack Johnson

A strange night, he thought. Somewhere now there is shooting and men are being hunted and imprisoned and tortured and murdered, some corner of a peaceful world is being trampled upon, and one knows it, helplessly, and life buzzes on in the bright bistros of the city, no one cares, and people go calmly to sleep, and I am sitting here with a woman between pale chrysanthemums and a bottle of calvados, and the shadow of love rises, trembling, lonesome, strange and sad, it too an exile from the safe gardens of the past, shy and wild and quick as if it had no right — Erich Maria Remarque

To love
to fall
is not a question. To touch
to kiss
to speak
those are questions. There is nothing worse than a ruined friendship. There is nothing better than a companion. Somewhere in between lies risk. Somewhere in between, lies. — David Levithan

Somewhere between right and wrong lies a garden surrounded by thorns, and I have met you there. — Stacey Lee

Somewhere between poetry and science, somewhere between heaven and earth, clairaudience is born. Clairaudience is the sweetest mystery any human being could ever experience. Fortunately, it is the most contagious, too. Most, if not all, of my students walk away with some level of clairaudience after spending three hours in one of my workshops. — Amelia Kinkade

Love faded, or flipped over into loathing. Or settled somewhere in between into a kind of grinding detachment. It could snap like a dry twig, with one careless step. — Nora Roberts

And still, still, there is more to describe-
we paint because drawing breath is an agony
and exhaling an ecstasy
and somewhere in the space in-between
we think we once found a truth;
and the eternal part of us desires
to share this truth at all costs
only it's never quite how we pictured it,
and it's never quite received the way we want
and the paint drips with our own blood
the handles of our brushes are our own bones
our own tears become the words to our most beautiful love songs
and we know we'll never get it right before we die-

getting up every morning and facing our own limited truth
is a courage so divine
most men quell and women stay enslaved in silence. — Marie Anzalone

Some people fall in love and touch the sky. Some people fall in love and find quicksand. I hover somewhere in between, I swear, I can't make up my mind. — Brandon Boyd

What was the difference between love and the agony of waiting? Like love, the agony of waiting began in the muscles and somewhere around the upper belly but soon spread out to the chest, the thighs, and the forehead, to invade the entire body with numbing force. — Orhan Pamuk

To me, writing is a matter of voice. I think like that. The expression I sometimes use to myself is 'actual song.' That what I do is somewhere on the line between speaking to you as I am now and actual song. And the things I love when I say one of those poems to myself - it's a little bit like singing, it's a little bit like speaking. — Robert Pinsky

Somewhere between us hating each other back then, you became my first real friend, my first and only best friend, and I didn't realize it until last summer, but you've actually been my first everything." "You were my first kiss, my first date that I actually enjoyed, and the first woman I fell in love with - the first woman I actually made love to..." he said. "And you're still the only person I can talk to twenty times a day - whether it's via letter, email, text, or phone call, and still feel like it's not enough. — Whitney G.

We all have to get our hope from somewhere, and if getting lost between the pages of a deep book gives me hope, then I'll keep on getting lost, all the while hoping that one day I'll have a real love I can get lost in. Because it will happen, to each of us. One day we'll get so lost in love that we won't be able to find our way back out. — Emma Hart

Somewhere in between, I had fallen for that boy. — Liz Thebart

He pinpointed Helen immediately, despite so many women - all dressed in somber mourning attire - against a background of pitch dark. He offered her a weak smile, somewhere between, 'I didn't mean to look at you' and 'I couldn't help but look at you. — Becca St. John

He tries again, swallowing hard to ease away the painful lump in his throat. "It's just important. I love you. I'm yours. I need people to know."
"Alright," Lindsay says suddenly. He leans down to grab at Pip's bag, throwing stuff out onto the carpet, his iPod and phone and wallet and gloves and Attitude magazine until he finds what he's looking for, a green marker pen, and holds it between his teeth while he starts tugging at the hem of Pip's t-shirt. Pip's too surprised to do anything but submit, he lets Lindsay peel off his t-shirt and throw that on top of all the things from his bag then just watches as Lindsay pulls the pen out of the cap in his mouth and signs his name in big green letters on the side of Pip's stomach. He holds his breath, trying not to suck in the belly fat everybody else keeps telling him is imaginary. "There, you're mine, are you fucking happy now?" Lindsay snaps, and throws the recapped pen across the room to get lost in the bookcase somewhere. — Richard Rider

But I'm not hte only one to blame,' Midori continued. 'It's ture I've got a cold streak. I recognize that. But if they - my father and mother - had loved me a little more. I would have been able to feel more - to feel real sadness for example.'
'Do you think you weren't loved enough?'
She tilted her head and looked at me. Then she gave a sharp, little nod. 'Somewhere between 'not enough' and 'not at all.' 'I was always hungry for love. Just once, I wanted to know what it was like to get my fill of it - to be fed so much love I couldn't take any more. Just once. But they never gave that to me. Never, not once. — Haruki Murakami

He could never reconcile the strange fact of Kimiko's attraction with what he saw in the mirror. At best, it was related to her natural stoicism, as if Jashua were a kind of bonsai tree she trimmed and watered lovingly. "I enjoy being with you" was her preferred mode of expressing her affection. At worst, she kept him around so he could make her feel better when she needed it, a winner combination of a pet and a dildo. Somewhere along the range between the best and the worst, there was the possibility of her deep love. — Aleksandar Hemon

Reincarnation isn't something in which I choose to believe but rather a truth I accept. Most people will never know the meaning of their friendships, passions, choices and even challenges. I embrace them, knowing that there's always a perfect correlation between everything, including between us and the ones that love us and betray us at the end. That's how I know I'm almost never traveling somewhere but returning, or not meeting someone but fixing the past, or facing a challenge but ending a karmic cycle. If I was a Buddhist Monk, a Scottish Doctor, a French Monarch, or a Spanish Templar, none of that really matters, not as much as what I experienced and believed during that time, not as much as what I did ten years ago or what I believed during my childhood, not as much as who I am now and what I can do with my life at present time. — Robin Sacredfire

It is a long way to Ireland, Janet, and I am sorry to send my little friend on such weary travels: but if I can't do better, how is it to be helped? Are you anything akin to me, do you think, Jane?"
I could risk no sort of answer by this time: my heart was still.
"Because, he said, "I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you - especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous channel, and two hundred miles or so of land some broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt; and then I've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly. As for you, - you'd forget me. — Charlotte Bronte

For millions of years flowers have been producing thorns. For millions of years sheep have been eating them all the same. And it's not serious, trying to understand why flowers go to such trouble to produce thorns that are good for nothing? It's not important, the war between the sheep and the flowers? It's no more serious and more important than the numbers that fat red gentleman is adding up? Suppose I happen to know a unique flower, one that exists nowhere in the world except on my planet, one that a little sheep can wipe out in a single bite one morning, just like that, without even realizing what he'd doing - that isn't important? If someone loves a flower of which just one example exists among all the millions and millions of stars, that's enough to make him happy when he looks at the stars. He tells himself 'My flower's up there somewhere ... ' But if the sheep eats the flower, then for him it's as if, suddenly, all the stars went out. And that isn't important? — Antoine De Saint-Exupery

I know deep inside, somewhere between the layers of my heart and soul, somewhere in the middle of my brain, that I love you more than anything in the world. But — Cameron Jace

There are beauty icons that I can never be like, sorta like a Gena Rowlands - I'll never have that look. I love Giulietta Masina, the great Fellini actress. But I'm probably more Seymour Cassel. Or somewhere between Lou Reed and Nora Ephron? — Natasha Lyonne

And I need you, my love," he said. "I need you so much that I panic when I think that perhaps I will not be able to persuade you to come back with me to Enfield. I need you so much that I cannot quite contemplate the rest of my life if it must be lived without you. I need you so much that - Well, the words speak for themselves. I need you."
"To look after Augusta?" she said. She dared not hear what he was surely saying. She dared not hope. "To look after Enfield? To provide you with an heir?"
"Yes," he said, and her heart sank like a stone to be squashed somewhere between her slippers and the parlor carpet."And to be my friend and my confidant and my comfort. And to be my lover. — Mary Balogh