The Last Song Love Quotes & Sayings

EVERYONE MAKES MISTAKES, EVEN THE PERSONS WE LOVE. — Nicholas Sparks

When I first met Cara, she was twelve and angry at the world. Her parents had split up, her brother was gone, and her mom was infatuated with some guy who was missing vowels in his unpronounceable last name. So I did what any other man in that situation would do: I came armed with gifts. I bought her things that I thought a twelve-year-old would love: a poster of Taylor Lautner, a Miley Cyrus CD, nail polish that glowed in the dark. "I can't wait for the next Twilight movie," I babbled, when I presented her with the gifts in front of Georgie. "My favorite song on the CD is 'If We Were a Movie.' And I almost went with glitter nail polish, but the salesperson said this is much cooler, especially with Halloween coming up."
Cara looked at her mother and said, without any judgment, "I think your boyfriend is gay. — Jodi Picoult

Insanity laughs under pressure we're cracking
Can't we give ourselves one more chance
Why can't we give love that one more chance
Why can't we give love
Cause love's such an old fashioned word
and love dares you to care for
The people on the edge of the night
And love dares you to change our way of
Caring about ourselves
This is our last dance
This is our last dance
This is ourselves
Under pressure — Queen Elizabeth II

Oh man. You have it just as bad, huh?" She hugs me and I nod. [...]
Jenna looks like she's debating something when she whispers, "I don't want to make you feel bad about this because I know you had a lot going on, but he sang this song for you last weekend."

But I wasn't there. Shit.
As the weight of that sinks in, I'm overwhelmed. He was going to tell me he loved me first. — Lex Martin

Live In The Moment...Dance like it's your last dance...Sing like it's your last song...Laugh like it's your breath...And love like it's your last romance...Everyone isn't given second chances so seize the moment. — Theresa Lewis

My Flame, my tortured boy, had broken through the last of his defenses. He had found his voice. Flame, my always and forever, had found his song, like I had found mine. And through our love, he had finally found the courage to sing. — Tillie Cole

It was an honor to work with Samantha Morton on this Casablanca-esque, silent-film-esque, Americana photobooth Woolworth's hay day period piece of surrealism/ realism/ story time tell-tale-ism, black and white 35 mm film, washed in strange light, over this love hate tune, heartbreak song, life-goes-on lullaby, The Last Goodbye. It's a doorway into the future of the fatal past-tense. Get it? — Alison Mosshart

If beauty is pain - let me get lost in it. If you're my salvation - I want to earn it. If love is all I have to give - then let me give it. You. It's all for you."
Gabe's eyes opened and locked in on mine.
"How can I prove that what I feel is real? You ask for truth I give you lies. You ask for joy I make you cry. But I don't want to lose you. Not like this. Not when I've left your heart in such a mess. Give me one chance - I'm letting go of the past - but I need you here to know."
"If beauty is pain - let me get lost in it. If you're my salvation - I want to earn it. If love is all I have to give - then let me give it. You, it's all for you." He paused, hitting the last few notes, and the song ended.
Gabe's smile lit up the room.
But I was frozen in place.
Me. He'd sung that to me. — Rachel Van Dyken

It had been some time since Magnus was last in love, and he was beginning to feel the effects. He remembered the glow of love as brighter and the pain of loss as gentler than they had actually been. He found himself looking into many faces for potential love, and seeing many people as shining vessels of possibility. Perhaps this time there would be that indefinable something that sent hungry hearts roving, longing and searching for something, they knew not what, and yet could not give up the quest. Every time a face or a look or a gesture caught Magnus's eye these days, it woke to life a refrain in Magnus's breast, a song in persistent rhythm with his heartbeat. Perhaps this time, perhaps this one. — Cassandra Clare

Staring at the floor, she didn't even look up as the final contestant entered.
Not until she heard a deep, rich baritone that filled the hall with the most beautiful sound she had ever heard.
Her heart pounding, she looked up to see Stryder holding his mother's lute.
Only it wasn't a love song he sang.
More like a limerick, it was a song about a woman who fancied herself a goose.
And a man who gobbled her up.
Laughter and applause rang out as soon as he strummed the last note.
Breathe, breathe.
It was the only thing Rowena could think. And even that couldn't get her to take a breath as Stryder approached her.
He smoothed her hair and straightened her feathered crown. "Methinks my goose has molted."
Rowena laughed as more tears streaked down her face. — Kinley MacGregor

I wanted to focus on songs that I was inspired by growing up. I love so many of them from the last 100 years, but I really wanted, for my first step forward, to choose material that has inspired me and got me into the world of musical theater. — Josh Groban

Dear friends, he began, there is no timetable for happiness; it moves, I think, according to rules of its own. When I was a boy I thought I'd be happy tomorrow, as a young man I thought it would be next week; last month I thought it would be never. Today, I know it is now. Each of us, I suppose has at least one person who thinks that our manifest faults are worth ignoring; I have found mine, and am content. When we are far from home we think of home; I, who am happy today, think of those in Scotland for whom such happiness might seem elusive; may such powers as listen to what is said by people like me, in olive groves like this, grant to those who want a friendship a friend, attend to the needs of those who have little, hold the hand of those who are lonely, allow Scotland, our place, our country, to sing in the language of her choosing that song she has always wanted to sing, which is of brotherhood, which is of love. — Alexander McCall Smith

Love is fragile. And we're not always its best caretakers. We just muddle through and do the best we can. And hope this fragile thing survives against all odds. — Nicholas Sparks

I love to play music, and this is fun, and let's record this stuff in a way that we both like. That was exciting enough, so we just recorded it. There was no business in it until the very last minute, really. It was really as much of an extension of me writing the songs in my bedroom as it could possibly be. — Zooey Deschanel

Back in the sanctuary, the Reb concluded his taped message by saying, "Please love one another, talk to one another, don't let trivialities dissolve friendships ... " Then he sang a simple tune, which translated to: "Good-bye friends, good-bye friends, good-bye, good-bye, see you again, see you again, good-bye." The congregation, one last time, joined in. You could say it was the loudest prayer of his career. But I always knew he'd go out with a song. — Mitch Albom

The only thing I'll never have is what I have lost for ever and ever ... As long as I live, until I draw my last breath, I shall remember Asel and all those beautiful things that were ours. The day I was to leave I went to the lake and stood on the rise above it. I was saying good-bye to the Tien Shan mountains, to Issyk-Kul. Good-bye, Issyk-Kul, my unfinished song! How I wish I could take you with me, your blue waters and your yellow shores, but I can't, just as I can't take the woman I love with me. Goodbye, Asel. Good-bye, my pretty poplar in a red kerchief! Good-bye, my love, I want you to be happy ... — Chingiz Aitmatov

Funeral Blues

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message 'He is Dead'.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good. — W. H. Auden

How could I resist? Look, I love that record and have nothing but great, great memories of my time with BLACK SABBATH . Tony was really busy but got his solos to me at the last minute as he promised and they are just fantastic. I think BLACK SABBATH fans will be over the moon when they hear what he's done. As for Roger and Ian , well, they just sound great on this song so it really did become 'Black Purple'. Personally, I love the irony of it all. — Ian Gillan

And if she asks you why you can tell her that I told you
That I'm tired of Castles in the Air
I've got a dream I want the world to share in castle walls
Just leave me to despair
Hills of forest green where the mountains touch the sky
A dream come true, I'll live there 'til I die
I'm asking you, to say my last good-bye
The love we knew, ain't worth another try — Don McLean

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

And when at last I find you your song will fill the air. — The Beatles

Death darkens his eyes, and unplumes his wings, Yet the sweetest song is the last he sings: Live so, my Love, that when death shall come, Swan-like and sweet it may waft thee home. — Marcus Tullius Cicero

Dreams last so long
Even after you're gone
I know you love me
And soon you will see
You were meant for me
And I was meant for you
Go about my business, I'm doing fine
Besides, what would I say if I had you on the line
Same old story, not much to say
Hearts are broken every day
I'm half alive but I feel mostly dead
I try to tell myself it'll be all right
I just shouldn't think anymore tonight — Jewel

I heard one preach a sermon on these words in the song, Song iv. 1, Behold, thou art fair, my love, behold, thou art fair. But at that time he made these two words, my love, his chief and subject matter: from which, after he had a little opened the text, he observed these several conclusions: 1. That the church, and so every saved soul, is Christ's love, when loveless. 2. Christ's love without a cause. 3. Christ's love, when hated of the world. 4. Christ's love, when under temptation and under destruction. 5. Christ's love, from first to last. 90. But I got nothing by what he said at present; only when he came to the application of the fourth particular, this was the word he said; If it be so, that the saved soul is Christ's love, when under temptation and desertion; then poor tempted soul, when thou art assaulted, and afflicted with temptations, and the hidings of God's face, yet think on these two words, 'My love,' still. — John Bunyan

Let it not be death but completeness. Let love melt into memory and pain into songs. Let the flight through the sky end in the folding of the wings over the nest. Let the last touch of your hands be gentle like the flower of the night. Stand still, O Beautiful End, for a moment, and say your last words in silence. I bow to you and hold up my lamp to light you on your way. — Rabindranath Tagore

Two birds locked inside a cage, we aren't supposed to last,
And I guess we both could blame it on our past.
But I'm out of excuses if you're done with pretending,
I'm ready to start the story that doesn't have an ending. — Kandi Steiner

Roses are red, and they say love's not made to last,

But I know I'll never get enough of that sweet, sweet ass.

All that jelly in your jeans, all that junk in your trunk,

I just gotta have it - one look and I was sunk.

If you ever wonder why I had to make you mine,

It's 'cause no other lady has a tush so fine.

They say you're not a looker, but I don't mind.

What I'm looking at is the view from behind.

Never been romantic, don't know what love means,

But I know I dig the way you're wearing those jeans.

Hate to see you leave but love to watch you go.

Turn back, then leave again - baby do it slow.

I'm coming right after, gonna make a pass,

Can't get enough of that sweet, sweet ass. — Cassandra Clare

The season was waning fast
Our nights were growing cold at last
I took her to bed with silk and song,
'Lay still, my love, I won't be long;
I must prepare my body for passion.'
'O, your body you give, but all else you ration.'
'It is because of these dreams of a sylvan scene:
A bleeding nymph to leave me serene ...
I have dreams of a trembling wench.'
'You have dreams,' she said, 'that cannot be quenched.'
'Our passion,' said I, 'should never be feared;
As our longing for love can never be cured.
Our want is our way and our way is our will,
We have the love, my love, that no one can kill.'
'If night is your love, then in dreams you'll fulfill ...
This love, our love, that no one can kill.'
Yet want is my way, and my way is my will,
Thus I killed my love with a sleeping pill. — Roman Payne

Okay," she said as he lit the candle and hummed the birthday song. "You know,this is all very Jake Ryan of you."
"Who's Jake Ryan?"
"The hottie from Sixteen Candles - the best teenage movie ever made. The last scene looks just like this," she said, looking around the room.
"All right, well, don't you go wishing for him when you blow out the candle."
"I love you,Jace. You're the only thing I want. — Phoebe Lane

I wrote a song called 'Red' and thinking about what that song means to me and all the different emotions on this album they're all pretty much about the tumultuous, crazy, insane, intense, semi-toxic relationships I've experienced in the last two years. All those emotions fanning from intense love, intense frustration, intense jealousy, confusion, all of that in my mind, all those emotions are red. There's nothing in between, there's nothing beige about those feelings and so I called my record that. — Taylor Swift

The two last were in full tide of spirits, and the Baron rallied in his way our hero upon the handsome figure which his new dress displayed to advantage. 'If you have any design upon the heart of a bonny Scottish lassie, I would premonish you when you address her to remember the words of Virgilius:
"Nunc insanus amor duri me Martis in armis,
Tela inter media atque adversos detinet hostes."
Whilk verses Robertson of Struan, Chief of the clan Donnochy, unless the claims of Lude ought to be preferred primo loco, has thus elegantly rendered:
"For cruel love has gartan'd low my leg,
And clad my hurdies in a philabeg."
Although indeed ye wear the trews, a garment whilk I approve most of the two, as more ancient and seemly.'
'Or rather,' said Fergus, 'hear my song:
"She wadna hae a Lowland laird,
Nor be an English lady;
But she's away with Duncan Graeme,
And he's rowed her in his plaidy. — Walter Scott

Lost love belongs in a three-minute song, pullling back feelings from a time when they came unbidden, recalling the infatuation, the walking on sunshine that cannot last and the pain of its loss, whether through parting or the passage of time, reminding us that we are emotional beings — Graeme Simsion

I could kiss you in the rain forever
Turn all your pain to pleasure
Fill up all your days with sunlight
Make the passion last every night
Give you my every possesion
Make you my only obsession
Climb up to the sky and pull down all the stars above
But I could never love you enough — Chely Wright

Sometimes,' he whispered at last, 'sometimes, I dream I am singing, and I wake from it with my throat aching.'
He couldn't see her face, or the tears that prickled at the corners of her eyes.
'What do you sing?' she whispered back. She heard the shush of the linen pillow as he shook his head.
'No song I've ever heard, or know,' he said softly. 'But I know I'm singing it for you. — Diana Gabaldon

His desperation and misery swept her up like a storm capturing the sea. She turned her mind to even these feelings, because they were his, like his terrified rage in the lift when they had first met, being wrapped in his arms in the cold well, being dazzled by his wonder at the woods and her home and her. Like being a child, awareness of him the morning chorus that woke her and the lullaby that sent her to sleep, his thoughts always her first and last song.
I love you, Kami told him, and cut. — Sarah Rees Brennan

The last song by Lady Antebellum was "Just a Kiss." The lyrics talked about how they only needed a kiss - nothing more - because this love might be the kind that lasted forever. — Karen Kingsbury

She loved your mother', Taliesin said gently. 'This is her farewell.'
As he spoke, a chanted melody began inside the chamber, a song without words. Yet it spoke of the beauty in the heart of the flame, of the passing glory of the white bird on the wing, and the blossom of the sea spray under the shining prow. It sang of a mother with her baby, of the hard love between men and women, and the gentle rest that comes at last to all. — Rosalind Miles

I think that's such a beautiful sentiment. Love should only last as long as a very expensive and impractical bikini that looks stunning, but dissolves in the sea within days. So many pop songs tell of this terrible, tiresome love that they want to last forever. But that just makes me think of long-life milk, acrid and fake. Love should be like a movie trailer. Even if the film's a stinker, you get the best laughs and the biggest explosions in the space of two minutes. — Emma Forrest

So to you, or anyone else who has spent four minutes on me in some way
listening to just one song, or watching one of my videos ... .Thank you. I love you like I love sparkles and having the last word. And that's real love. — Taylor Swift

I was writing a lot of true love songs-true love almost gone wrong but saved at the last moment ... Many of the best songs get written in a state of abject misery. I prefer to write fewer songs and have less cataclysmic events in my life ... Some hit songs are really stupid, and who knows why they're hits. But a lot of hit songs are really good. — Jorma Kaukonen

Song of elli (old age)
What is plucked will grow again,
What is slain lives on,
What is stolen will remain
What is gone is gone ...
What is sea-born dies on land,
Soft is trod upon.
What is given burns the hand -
What is gone is gone ...
Here is there, and high is low;
All may be undone.
What is true, no two men know -
What is gone is gone ...
Who has choices need not choose.
We must, who have none.
We can love but what we lose -
What is gone is gone. — Peter S. Beagle

We pass and leave you lying. No need for rhetoric, for funeral music, for melancholy bugle-calls. No need for tears now, no need for regret.
We took our risk with you; you died and we live. We take your noble gift, salute for the last time those lines of pitiable crosses, those solitary mounds, those unknown graves, and turn to live our lives out as we may.
Which of us were fortunate
who can tell? For you there is silence and cold twilight drooping in awful desolation over those motionless lands. For us sunlight and the sound of women's voices, song and hope and laughter, despair, gaiety, love
life.
Lost terrible silent comrades, we, who might have died, salute you. — Richard Aldington

It throbbed and pulsed, channeled by elemental forces of fear, love, hope, and sadness. The bow stabbed and flitted across the strings in a violent whorl of creation; its hairs tore and split until it seemed the last strands would sever in a scrape of dissonance. Those who saw the last fragile remnants held their breath against the breaking. The music rippled across the ship like a spirit, like a thing alive and eldritch and pregnant with mystery. The song held. More than held, it deepened. It groaned. It resounded in the hollows of those who heard. Then it softened into tones long, slow, and patient and reminded men of the faintest stars trembling dimly in defiance of a ravening dark. At the last, when the golden hairs of the bow had given all the sound they knew, the music fled in a whisper. Fin was both emptied and filled, and the song sighed away on the wind. — A.S. Peterson

Then the angels, the demon, and the Nephilim flew to distant corners of the sky, leaving a moment's brilliant flash of light behind them, as below, Luce and Daniel fell in love for the first-and the last- time — Lauren Kate

What can I say? I'm just a relevant dude. It's just natural. My hunger's still there. I still keep my ear to the streets. I record every song like it's my last. I just love music. I'm blessed. — Juicy J

Uncomplicate it. Don't make excuses. Some of life's biggest heartaches come from missed opportunities and lame excuses. Don't miss out on what could be the best chapter in your life because you're too busy rereading the last one. — Kandi Steiner

Eventually, decades later, when the king was dying, the queen gently ushered everybody out into the corridor, closed the door to the royal bedchamber, and got into bed with her husband. She started singing to him. They laughed. He was short of breath, but he could still laugh. They asked each other, Is this silly? Is this ... pretentious? But they both knew that everything there was to say had been said already, over and over, across the years. And so the king, relieved, released, free to be silly, asked her to sing him a song from his childhood. He didn't need to be regal anymore, he didn't need to seem commanding or dignified, not with her. They were, in their way, dying together, and they both knew it. It wasn't happening only to him. So she started singing. They shared one last laugh - they agreed that the cat had a better voice than she did. Still, she sang him out of the world. — Michael Cunningham