Quotes & Sayings About Why Do I Still Love You

He dragged me up. "You're bruised all to hell, your hand is broken, and can you even imagine how much more pain waits for you tonight?" he asked. "Why won't you just learn? Why must you make me keep hurting you?"
"I'm not making you do anything, Gisbourne. Hurt me if you want, but I've felt pain. I know what pain is. And it's less than love, than loyalty, than hope. You can make me cry, or scream, or whatever else. All that will mean is that I feel the pain, that I'm still alive. And as long as I'm living I can promise I'm not afraid of you, Gisbourne. I'm afraid of sitting quiet while people like you and Prince John going by unchecked. That's what I'm afraid of. I'm stronger than your damn pain, and I do not give up. — A.C. Gaughen

This one guy, the worse guy in the music. The Yanni man. You know Yanni? First of all, anyone who looks like a magician and doesn't do magic, I don't like. I don't even like magic, I hate it. But I love the word, "Ta-da"! I love that word! I don't get to say it, right? I never do any magic. You just cant go around walking, "Ta-da!" "Ta-da!" "Ta-da!" The only time I can say it is when I do something really stupid or surprising. Like if I go out all night drinking and hitting strip clubs and I come home and I still got some money ... "Ta
da!" I thought I was broke. Why does my jaw hurt? — Dave Attell

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

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

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

'I love you too.'

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

So, it is a basic function of education to help you to find out what you really love to do, so that you can give your whole mind and heart to it, because that creates human dignity, that sweeps away mediocrity, the petty bourgeois mentality. That is why it is very important to have the right teachers, the right atmosphere, so that you will grow up with the love which expresses itself in what you are doing. Without this love your examinations, your knowledge, your capacities, your position and possessions are just ashes, they have no meaning; without this love your actions are going to bring more wars, more hatred, more mischief and destruction. All this may mean nothing to you, because outwardly you are still very young, but I hope it will mean something to your teachers - and also to you, somewhere inside. — Jiddu Krishnamurti

And speaking of Terms, we need to set a few ground rules here with ... this," he said, clearing his throat and gesturing at the two of them.
"With what?" Lex said.
"That," Uncle Mort replied, pointing to a suspicious-looking mark on her neck.
Lex's hand flew to her throat while Driggs shifted, uneasy.
"Why?" he asked.
"Don't 'why?' me, Romeo. You know I trust you, but Lex is still my niece. In the absence of her father, it's up to me to do everything in my power to complicate and interfere with her budding love life."
Lex frowned. "Hey- — Gina Damico

I can't
I can't think about anything or anyone else," he whispered. A hand drifted up, dragging back through his hair. "I can't think straight when you're around. I can't sleep. It feels like I can't breathe
I just
"
"Liam, please," I begged. "You're tired. You're barely over being sick. Let's just ... Can we just go back to the others?"
"I love you." He turned toward me, that agonized expression still on his face. "I love you every second of everyday, and I don't understand why, or how to make it stop
"
He looked wild with pain; it pinned me in place, even before what he had said registered in my mind.
"I know it's wrong; I know it down to my damn bones. And I feel like I'm sick. I'm trying to be a good person, but I can't. I can't do this anymore. — Alexandra Bracken

Good-bye,' I said to them, but they didn't seem to hear me, and why would they have wanted to? Why would they have wanted to do with the world outside of each other? Outside each other, they were mean little human beings like the rest of us, the kind of people you both loathed and pitied. Separately, they were characters, and not in a good way. But together they were something to wonder at and maybe even envy. I had this unoriginal thought as I walked out the door and toward my van: love changes us, makes us into people whom others then want to love. That's why, to those of us without it, love is the voice asking, What else? What else? And to those of us who have had love and lost it or thrown it away, then love is the voice that leads us back to love, to see if it might still be ours or if we've lost it, love is also the thing that makes us speak in aphorisms about love, which is why we try to get love back, so we can stop speaking that way. Aphoristically, that is. — Brock Clarke

* She said, why don't we both just sleep on it tonight
And I believe, in the morning you'll begin to see the light
And then she kissed me and I realized she probably was right
There must be fifty ways to leave your lover, fifty ways to leave your lover
Paul Simon, Still Crazy After All These Years (1975), 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover
First thing I remember when you came into my life
I said I wanna get that girl, no matter what I do
Well I guess I've been in love before and once or twice have been on the floor
But I've never loved no-one the way that I love you. — Paul Simon

I don't know if you can empathize, but it hurts when someone you love dumps you."
"You're joking, right?" said Chuck. "How do you think I wound up in the pound? At least grid boy didn't try to have you gassed. I still don't know what I did to those people. Or why you like that grid asshole so much."
"He's not only an asshole," I said, sorry to have to defend him. "At first he was smart and sexy and fun."
"How was he fun?" said Chuck. "Did he play ball? No. Did he bring meaty snacks? No. And he made such a big fucking deal when I drooled on his pants. How much fun was that? — Merrill Markoe

I can tell you my heart turned to stone at York," he says to me frankly. "Freezing cold wind and a rain that could cut through you, and the faces of the women like stone itself. They looked at me as if I had personally murdered their only son. You know what they're like - they love Richard as dearly as if he rode out only yesterday. Why do they do that? Why do they cling to him still?" I — Philippa Gregory

He pulled Dancer to the side. "Can I ask a huge favor?" Dancer scowled. "What?" "You know where we're headed. Find Talyn's female and bring her to the Porturnum station to stay with him. I think he'll like that." Dancer's gaze softened. "You sure?" He nodded. "Families shouldn't be separated. And while you're at it, why don't you bring Sumi and the kids, too? I know you don't want to be away from them, either." A strange shadow appeared in Dancer's red eyes. "Who are you and what have you done with my I-don't-give-a-shit-about-anything brother?" Fain snorted at his mock sarcasm. "Shut the fuck up and do what I said." "Now there's the familiar asshole I know so well and love for reasons still unknown." Fain — Sherrilyn Kenyon

Humans have nothing to do with angels and fairies, then why still I love you? — M.F. Moonzajer

Idea meets execution. Feeling becomes action.
I don't know why people find this idea so hard to get. I mean, you can throw any two people together, it doesn't mean they'll fall in love. Everyone knows this. No one quite understands how it works. It's just those people, where they are in their lives, how circumstance throws them together. Sure, it's happened before, but never quite in that way. Maybe they seem to come together all wrong. Maybe they've loved others. Maybe they don't always do right by each other ... but it's still there, the love. The event. And no one would dare criticize it just because it's common, it's a little asymmetrical, and anyone can do it. It is unique. It is theirs. It is beautiful. They have made something that has been made a million times before and has also never existed before that moment. — Maureen Johnson

Haven't you ever heard the saying that our pasts do not define us?" I countered, growing frustrated. "I screwed up, Hayden. I admitted that. Why can't you let it go?"
"Let it go?" He sneered. "You are the reason my sister is a Program. Please, tell me how I'm supposed to let something like that go? Because I'd love to know."
Footsteps sounded from outside of the holding cell, essentially ending our conversation. I still had much to say to him, but for now, I welcomed the silence.
The silence was much more comforting than the truth. — Nicole Sobon

- Why do you love him, Miss Cathy?
- Nonsense, I do - that's sufficient.
- By no means; you must say why?
- Well, because he is handsome, and pleasant to be with.
- Bad.
- And because he's young & cheerful.
- Bad, still.
- And because he loves me.
- Indifferent, coming there.
And he will be rich and I shall be the greatest woman of the neighbourhood, and I shall be proud of having such a husband.
- Worst of all. — Emily Bronte

You didn't want to put in the work to make us happen.
It was true. I had been so captivated by Duncan, so enamored, so infatuated, that I let his life drown mine for two years. I went along, and when I got tired of it, tired of it just being easy and comfortable and convenient but not love, I ended it. And that was why I had the man in my lobby looking at me like there were still places for us to go.
I had let him believe that he was my whole world, let him be everything, and then one day just stopped loving him and walked away. It was something I did, something I had always done - poured on the charm, made myself into the ideal partner, lover, friend, indispensable and irreplaceable, and then, when I got bored or tired or tapped out, instead of fighting, I just quit. It was wildly unfair, and the only people I didn't do it with were my family. Even my friends complained that I was always around and then just gone.
Nathan Qells — Mary Calmes

Lord Macon deposited his wife into a chair and then knelt next to her, clutching one of her hands. "Tell me truthfully - how are you feeling?"
Alexia took a breath. "Truthfully? I sometimes wonder if I, like Madame Lefoux, should affect masculine dress."
"Gracious me, why?"
"You mean aside from the issue of greater mobility?"
"My love, I don't think that's currently the result of your clothing."
"Indeed, I mean after the baby."
"I still don't see why should want to."
"Oh no? I dare you to spend a week in a corset, long skirts and a bustle."
"How do you know I haven't? — Gail Carriger

Her chest began to quake softly. "Why?"
"Why what, sweetheart?" I said gently.
"Why do you want me?"
I didn't even have to think. "Because anyone who's been through what you have and can still come out in one piece on the other side is a beautiful creature that I want to know. — Shelly Crane

Liz?"
"Hmmm?"
"Why do you care about me?"
The question seems to startle me. It's uncharacteristic for Richie, who is usually so cool and self-assured. I open my eyes. "Why would you ask me that?"
"Because I don't understand. We're so different."
I reach around the side of his face. Once again, I wipe fresh beads of sweat from his forehead. This time, I don't even bother wiping my hands on my pants. I lace my fingers into his again, and the two of us lie together, his damp clamminess seeping onto my made up face and my pretty clothes. Obviously, I couldn't care less.
"But we fit," I whisper. "Like this." And I tighten my grip around him.
"Mmm." He smiles, his eyes still closed.
"You're right. We do."
"Richie ... I'm lying. I don't like you."
"You don't?" His voice cracks.
"No." I bring my lips close to his ear. "I love you Richie Wilson. — Jessica Warman

I don't want you to go." Waves rocked against the pier. The sun was too bright. Weathered boards creaked beneath Arin's feet.
"Only because you enjoy a good bully. Someone to make you behave as you ought."
"No, Roshar."
"You know well enough what to do now. You'll be fine."
"That's not why."
"Why you'll miss me? I admit that the impending absence of my keen wit would make anyone sad."
"Not exactly."
"Now I'm getting sad, just thinking about how it would feel to be parted from my sweet self. Lucky me: I will always have my own company."
"What you said at the banquet was true."
"Everything I say is true."
"That I love you."
Roshar's face went still. "I said that?"
"You know that you did."
"That was more for the drama of the moment."
"Liar."
"I am, aren't I?" Roshar said slowly. "I really am. Arin." His voice roughened. "You'll see me again."
"Soon," Arin told him, and embraced him. — Marie Rutkoski

Where you really have your eggs in one basket and that breach happens and you know you should go but you're still in love and you just don't know what to do. It hits you because it's not like
you're a cheater, and a liar, and I hate you, and you're no good, and I'm leaving. It's not that. It's like, I'm tormented. Even though you've done this and I know it, I still don't know what to do. I know I should go, but I don't want to. And that's why it's such a f***ed-up thing. — Jennifer Lopez

I don't want Tiamat to go back," said Jeremy sullenly. "I want her to stay here with me."
Miss Priest laughed. It was not a horrible laugh at all. "What a terrible idea!" she said. "Why do you want her to stay?"
Because I love her. I don't want to lose her."
Miss Priest reached out and took his chin in her hand. She looked into his eyes. "You silly boy," she said. "Nothing you love is lost. Not really. Things, people - they always go away, sooner or later. You can't hold them, any more than you can hold moonlight. But if they've touched you, if they're inside you, then they're still yours. The only things you ever really have are the ones you hold inside your heart. — Bruce Coville

Why do all men have to suck? I knew you all sucked and still I stupidly fell in love with one of you. Why? Why would I be such a masochist? You pour your heart out to a man and what does he do? 'Could you change the channel, babe?' You're all pathetically cold. You don't care about anyone but yourselves! (Kat) — Sherrilyn Kenyon

I need you, Viola. I need you.'
'You are repeating. You are trying to convince yourself, aren't you?'
'You are an impossible woman. I am declaring my love to you and still you quarrel with me ... Viola, I am perishing before you. *Perishing.*' His tone was strained. 'Say something.'
She nodded.
'What does that mean?'
She nodded again, faster, her throat a clogged mess of joy.
His eyes seemed to sparkle. 'You do love me.'
She got dizzy nodding.
'Why aren't you speaking? What is -'
She clutched her neck ... He looked astounded. Then he pulled her hand away and bent to set his mouth atop her windpipe.
'Function, beautiful harridan's voice,' he murmured, trailing soft, sweet kisses along her throat. — Katharine Ashe

So,if it's all love or money, which is Alex Bainbridge?"
I blinked at him. "What?"
"He's a turd, Ella. He looked right through you like you were a ghost, but you still have a thing for him."
"I do n-"
"Don't even. You've gone through the whole week watching for him. So what is it? I would really like to know. Love or money?"
"I have not been watching for him!" I snapped. Oh, but I had, in every hallway, at lunch, when I took my seat at the edge of English class. "And if I have, it's just so I can look away first."
Frankie rolled his eyes. "Shall I get you a pail of water?"
"Why?"
"Your pants are on fire."
I actually looked down at my lap. "Oh, very funny." I shot Sadie a look when she giggled. — Melissa Jensen

So is there any reason we're still on the mortal plane instead of back at your place fucking like wild animals?"
"Why wait? I didn't come dressed like this for nothing. And I don't see anyone around." She tossed him a coy smile.
"Evil witch," he growled.
"No, this is evil." Pushing away from him, she turned and bent over with her hands braced on her thighs. She peered at him over her shoulder.
The smoldering look on his face made her heart race. "You naughty, naughty witch. What am I going to do with you?"
"Fuck me?"
"Definitely."
"Make me cum?"
"Goes without saying."
"Love me?"
"Forever and ever. — Eve Langlais

Contemplation, sadly, helps you see your woundedness! That's why most people do not stay long with contemplative prayer, because it's not very glorious. It's a continual humiliation, realizing, Oh my God, I did it again. I still don't know how to love! — Richard Rohr

If the whole world seems like it's against you, it helps to know that you've still got home. A safe place. It just takes one person - a teacher, a friend, a parent. If I didn't have you and Dad, if you hadn't made it so clear you loved me as much as you did, or if you'd said, 'yeah, why don't you do it, and put yourself out of our misery, just shut up,' I would have killed myself. I really would have. I spent most of those days wishing I were dead anyway, and what always stopped me was the fact that doing so would destroy the lives of the only people who ever cared about me. — Nenia Campbell

Although, fanciful's origin circa 1627 made me still love the word, even if I'd ruined its applicability to my connection with Snarl. (I mean DASH!) Like, I could totally see Mrs. Mary Poppencock returning home to her cobblestone hut with the thatched roof in Thamesburyshire, Jolly Olde England, and saying to her husband, "Good sir Bruce, would it not be wonderful to have a roof that doesn't leak when it rains on our green shires, and stuff?" And Sir Bruce Poppencock would have been like, "I say, missus, you're very fanciful with your ideas today." To which Mrs. P. responded, "Why, Master P., you've made up a word! What year is it? I do believe it's circa 1627! Let's carve the year
we think
on a stone so no one forgets. Fanciful! Dear man, you are a genius. I'm so glad my father forced me to marry you and allow you to impregnate me every year. — Rachel Cohn

Sophie dear,' I said. 'Are you in love with him - with this spider-man?'
'Oh, don't call him that - please - we can't any of us help being what we are. His name's Gordon. He's kind to me, David. He's fond of me. You've got to have as little as I have to know how much that means. You've never known loneliness. You can't understand the awful emptiness that's waiting all round us here. I'd have given him babies gladly, if I could ... I - oh, why do they do that to us? Why didn't they kill me? It would have been kinder than this ... '
She sat without a sound. The tears squeezed out from under the closed lids and ran down her face. I took her hand between my own.
I remembered watching. The man with his arm linked in the woman's, the small figure on top of the pack-horse waving back to me as they disappeared into the trees. Myself desolate, a kiss still damp on my
cheek, a lock tied with a yellow ribbon in my hand. I looked at her now, and my heart ached. — John Wyndham

It always does seem to me that I am doing more work than I should do. It is not that I object to the work, mind you; I like work: it fascinates me. I can sit and look at it for hours. I love to keep it by me: the idea of getting rid of it nearly breaks my heart.
You cannot give me too much work; to accumulate work has almost become a passion with me: my study is so full of it now, that there is hardly an inch of room for any more. I shall have to throw out a wing soon.
And I am careful of my work, too. Why, some of the work that I have by me now has been in my possession for years and years, and there isn't a finger-mark on it. I take a great pride in my work; I take it down now and then and dust it. No man keeps his work in a better state of preservation than I do.
But, though I crave for work, I still like to be fair. I do not ask for more than my proper share. — Jerome K. Jerome

What you can't do is leave me!"
He was thrown back. There were still six crewmen standing against him. That wasn't deterring him in the least, however, which only infuriated her the more. The fool man was going to get tossed in the river yet.
She might do it herself. She was, after all, fed up with being told what she could or couldn't do. "And why can't I leave you?"
"Because I love you!"
He hadn't even paused in throwing another punch to shout that. Georgina, however, went very still, and breathless, and nearly sat down on the deck, her knees had gone so weak with the incredible emotion that welled up inside her. — Johanna Lindsey

Precious Savior, why do I fear your scrutiny? Yours is an examen of love. Still, I am afraid ... afraid of what may surface. Even so, I invite you to search me to the depths so that I may know myself - and you - in fuller measure. - Amen. — Richard J. Foster

Do you know what I miss the most? That night."
My heart skips a beat, aching in sudden sadness. "And what about the girl you once sat beside, on that night? Do you miss her too?"
"She is still here," he answers. "That is why I stay. — Marie Lu

Death come to all men.
It is only a matter of time.
But even if your flesh is gone,your immortal soul lives on.
Whether you live or die it's the same to me...
That's why i'm not worried.
I don't need to worry.
But...
For some reason,i don't know why,but...
I think she deserves more fun in her life.
I want her to make lots of friends,and have a lot of fun times,and fall in love...Just like everyone at home.
I am a Dullahan,one how guides souls to their resting place...i'm not allowed to change someone's fate
Even so...i still...
I still want to save her.
I...what should i do? — OKAYADO

Do you want to know why you don't meet my standards?" he asked.
She shook her head in mortification.
"Too late," he replied. "Here's my most important rule: Never have intercourse when one of the parties is in love with the other. It won't end well."
She gasped. "You arrogant cad! I'm not in love with you."
"I know." He didn't look away from her. "Isn't that what I said? Only one of us is in love, and it isn't you."
Violet stared at him. Her ears appeared to be working; her brain seemed to function. Tentatively, she added two and three and verified that they still made five. — Courtney Milan

I'm not really sure why. But ... do you stop loving someone just because they betray you? I don't think so. That's what makes the betrayal hurt so much - pain, frustration, anger ... and I still loved her. I still do. — Brandon Sanderson

So what I want to know is why it is that I can no longer find you, in my mind. You are still there, just, but you are there like a ghost, a will o' the wisp. Not long ago you burned
your heart burned
in my mind like silver fire. But after that night in the inn it became patchy and dim, and now it is not there at all."
"Could it be that the heart that you seek is no longer my own? I have given my heart to another."
"The boy? The one in the inn? With the unicorn?"
"Yes."
"You should have let me take it back then, for my sisters and me. We could have been young again, well into the next age of the world. Your boy will break it, or waste it, or lose it. They all do."
"Nonetheless, he has my heart. I hope your sisters will not be too hard on you, when you return to them without it. — Neil Gaiman

Real power is with those who are forever still, and I want to join them." "Good God. Why?" "Because I love them." "You mean like Hamlet jumping into the grave?" "Yes." "You can't do that!" Arturo screamed. "This is the twentieth century. And, besides, he jumped out." "He climbed out." "All right, he climbed out. Better that your soul should be on fire. It is on fire, and when you give it air it will flare like the sun. Even I ... My soul is on fire.... I, an accountant! — Mark Helprin

Love, he has abandoned me,
do with me as you will.
Love, he left - unceremoniously,
why must I love him still?
The best of me I gave to him -
the years, the days, the hours.
Precious little, in turn he'd given,
like dew to a wilting flower.
Love, he sheared away tenderly,
my beauty, my strength, my mind,
the gifts that were bestowed to me -
were swallowed in his pride.
Love, has he forgotten me?
Please tell me what you've heard,
I guard his memory jealously -
with him I'd place my worth. — Lang Leav

I just do. That's why it's love - it's unconditional. Whether you commit a mistake or a hundred, I would still love you. They say the most romantic kind of love is the unfinished kind. The kind that will forever burn and mark your soul - you've bewitched me, body and soul. I love you - and whether you do or don't feel the same, my love is withstanding and unequivocal. — Pamela Ann

I pity the woman who will love you
when I am done. She will show up
to your first date with a dustpan
and broom, ready to pick up all the pieces
I left you in. She will hear my name so often
it will begin to dig holes in her. That
is where doubt will grow. She will look
at your neck, your thin hips, your mouth,
wondering at the way I touched you.
She will make you all the promises I did
and some I never could. She will hear only
the terrible stories. How I drank. How I lied.
She will wonder (as I have) how someone
as wonderful as you could love a monster
like the woman who came before her. Still,
she will compete with my ghost.
She will understand why you do not look
in the back of closets. Why you are afraid
of what's under the bed. She will know
every corner of you is haunted
by me. — Clementine Von Radics

Still is the night, it quiets the streets down,
In that window my love would appear;
She's long since gone away from this town,
But this house where she lived still remains here.
A man stands here too, staring up into space,
And wrings his hands with the strength of his pain:
It chills me, when I behold his pale face
For the moon shows me my own features again!
You spirit double, you specter with my face
Why do you mock my love-pain so
That tortured me here, here in this place
So many nights, so long ago? — Heinrich Heine

I need you, Logan. Just you"
I tighten my grip on her tunic. "Why?"
"Because I still love you." Her voice catches. "I never stopped. I thought I had. I wanted to. But somehow .. it's like a part of you lives inside the most important part of me, and I don't know how to separate the two." Tears spill over, tracing a glistening path down her cheeks. "I love you, Logan"
Joy surges through me, brilliant and wild. I cup her face in my hands and wipe away her tears. "I love you too, Rachel. Always" And then I do my best to use the full hour I've been given to kiss her senseless. — C.J. Redwine

... It's breadth, and the strength between us to know that we're ready for the next step. I want to do it this way so it lasts, and I need you to understand that for me."
"I understand."
"Do you?" Hunter asked him closely. "Then why do I still hear rejection in your voice?"
"Because I'm impulsive, and immature, and ... in love with you. — Brandon Shire