Aladdin Love Quotes

Christian, you are the state lottery, the cure for cancer, and the three wishes from Aladdin's lamp all rolled into one

If you're not free to love, your're not free at all.

Nothing is worth betraying someone you love. ~Aladdin

This has been the great lesson of my long life: To love is to destroy.

Get control of yourself, Zahra! My name isn’t Zahra. I am Smoke-on-the-Wind, Curl-of-the-Tiger’s-Tail, Girl-Who-Gives-the-Stars-Away. He loves you! He is just a mortal. Just a boy, a moment in time that will soon pass. His name is Aladdin. I have known a thousand and one like him. I will know a thousand and one more. He is nothing. He is everything.

My adrenaline started pumping anytime I was within a hundred yards of a bookshop. I loved books nearly as much as I loved clothes. And that's saying something. The feel of them and the smell of them. A bookshop was like like an Aladdin's Cave for me. Entire worlds and lives can be found just behind that glossy cover. All you had to do was look.

I’m sorry,” I whisper. He takes my face in his hands. “I’m not. I’m not sorry I met you. I’m not sorry I fell in love with you. I have no regrets, Zahra, and neither should you. I love you.

You’re beautiful and wild and kind, and I can’t stop thinking about you.” A sunny, foolish smile breaks across his face. “It’s wrong and stupid and wonderful, Zahra. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but here I am. I love you.

Do you trust me?

Have I told you I love you?" he whispers. I smile. "Not since this morning." "Unforgivable. I will tell you every hour of every day.

What good is it Habiba, to deny the truth? Your friendship woke something in me all those centuries ago, some dormant humanity that had lingered through the years, and after you died, it recoiled and hid again. But Aladdin has woken it once more. With his sun-bright smile and his laughing eyes and his way of asking the hardest kind of questions. After you, I swore to never love again. But I love him. And so I must let him go.

What I corrupted was what is called the truth in favour of a more marvelous world. I could always improve on the facts. [...] in self-defense, I accuse the writers of fairy-tales. Not hunger, not cruelty, not my parents, but these tales which promised that sleeping in the snow never caused pneumonia, that bread never turned stale, that trees blossomed out of season, that dragons could be killed with courage, that intense wishing would be followed immediately by fulfillment of the wish. Intrepid wishing, said the fairytales, was more effective than labor. The smoke issuing from Aladdin's lamp was my first smokescreen, and the lies learned from fairytales were my first perjuries. Let us say I had perverted tendencies: I believed everything I read.

You loved before, and she was taken from you. Ever since, you've been afraid to love again. You insist you're a monster because you're afraid of being human.

And as you see, poor Idris was...persuaded,shall we say? Yes,persuaded to tell me about Tyre and his own route back to Al-Kal'as from there. Faysal, reveal to her his pain." The Captain of the Guard dragged Idris forward. Faysal then ripped away his shirt, and Aminah gasped. Angry scars laced his bare chest, some of the burns still crusted and weeping. Tears tumbled down Aminah's face, but Idris did not raise his head to see them. "Forgive me" he mumered.

It’s not too late,” he says. “Zahra, I—” “Sh.” I lay a finger across his lips. “Don’t say it. You will marry Caspida, and you will learn to love each other. You will live a happy life, long after my lamp has passed to new hands.” “I won’t make my third wish,” he says. “That’s the answer! If I don’t make the wish, you can stay here in the palace for as long as you want. You’ll never have to go back to your lamp. We can fight off anyone who tries to take you from me.

Love is a path lined with roses.

When I saw you in the hall with Darian,” he says at last, “I felt more angry than I’ve felt in a long time. I was angry and . . . and afraid, that you wanted to be there, that you wanted him touching you. In that one look, I felt more than I’ve ever felt with Caspida. Zahra, I think you’re right—love isn’t a choice. If I could choose to love Caspida, maybe this would all be going differently, but I don’t think that’s possible. Not anymore.” All the smoke inside me sinks as I stare at him. “What are you saying?” He turns and meets my gaze squarely. As much I want to, I find it impossible to look away. The intensity of his copper gaze holds me entranced. “I think you know,” he says softly. “Or am I the only one who feels it?

My lady,” says Aladdin, extending an arm toward the sun, “I give you gold as a token of my love.” “All I want is you,” I reply. I turn and kiss him, pulling him against me, feeling the warmth of the dawn in my hair. Then I rest my head on his shoulder, simply feeling his arms around me, his heart beating against me. “Are you cold?” asks Aladdin. “You’re shivering.” “A little.” “I’ll go get a blanket. And breakfast. If I can find the kitchen.” “Galley, love. It’s called a galley.” “Right. Galley. Got it. I’ll ask the captain. What was his name?” “Sinbad, I think?” “I’ll be right back.” But I catch his hand. “I’m all right. Don’t go yet.” He stays with me, and together we watch the sun stain the sea and sky a thousand and one shades of gold. My thumb rubs the ring on my finger, its dents and contours as familiar to me now as my hand. So this is what it feels like to have all your wishes come true.

Zahra, I think you're right---love isn't a choice. If I could choose to love Caspida, maybe this would all be going differently, but I don't think that's possible. Not anymore." All the smoke inside me sinks as I stare at him. "What are you saying?" He turns and meets my gaze squarely. As much as I want to, I find it impossible to look away. The intensity of his copper gaze holds me entranced. "I think you know," he says softly. "Or am I the only one who feels it?

I still can't believe it's really you," he murmurs, running his fingers down my cheek. "This face...it's yours, isn't it?" "The one I was born with," I admit, heat rising under my skin as I feel a surge of shyness. I look down at my hands. "Do you...like it?" "Zahra." I can't help but lift my gaze at the warmth in his tone. His eyes are shining, his lips slanted in a small smile. "You're beautiful," he says. "I mean, you were beautiful before, of course, but knowing that this is the real you...I didn't think I could love you more, but I do.

Don’t you understand? It’s forbidden, Aladdin! We jinn must abide by many rules, but first among them, most important of all, we must never fall in love with a human!” He catches his breath, swallowing hard. “And do you always follow the rules?” “I—” Casting my gaze skyward, I draw a deep breath, searching for words among the stars. “It’s not about that. Do you know what kind of destruction we would cause? Have you not heard the story of your own people, how their city was destroyed, how thousands died? It was not hate that sparked the war between your people and mine, Aladdin. It was love. I held hands with Roshana the Wise and called her sister, and those words set our world on fire!” There it is. My greatest shame, laid bare. The truth lies between us like broken glass. Surely now he sees what I truly am: a betrayer, a monster, an enemy. Aladdin stares at me, his face softening. “That wasn’t your fault,” he says. “Loving someone is never wrong. And like you said, it’s not a choice. It just happens, and we’re all helpless in its power.” “That doesn’t change the fact that the consequences are disastrous. As the poets say, shake hands with a jinni, and you shake hands with death.

I’m not what you think I am, Aladdin! I will betray you, and I will hurt you, because that is what I am. Why do you think Nardukha rips souls from the living and creates jinnis? Why do you think he sends us into the world? To make your miserable dreams come true? To bring you happiness?” I laugh sourly. “He gives you the thing you want most and uses it to destroy you. Look at yourself. You’re a prince. You have money, power, privilege. The chance to avenge your parents. And you’re miserable.” Aladdin stares at me, and in his eyes is pity. “I’ve been making myself miserable my whole life,” he says softly. “I convinced myself long ago that if I could get revenge on Sulifer, I could finally move on. That I could erase the memory of the day my parents died, when I held their severed heads and watched their blood run in the gutters. But as you say, here I am, a step away from that vengeance—and it has soured on my tongue. I don’t want it anymore.” He sighs and looks up at the sky, as if searching for words among the stars. “You don’t make me miserable, Zahra. I do that to myself, because I’m too weak, too afraid to admit that it isn’t Sulifer I’m angry at—it’s me. My parents were killed because of me. The day before they were executed, I was caught by the guards for stealing an earring, and when they found out who I was, Sulifer had me whipped until I told him where my parents were. And after they were dead, he gave me back the earring as payment for turning my mother and father over to him.” Lowering his gaze to meet mine, he brushes his fingers over the ring in his ear. “I’ve worn it every day since, to remind myself that nothing—nothing—is worth betraying someone you love.

Princess Caspida, I have nothing but respect and admiration for you. Truly you will be the queen this city needs. But I can’t marry you.” The princess stands still as stone, her face unreadable. “Why not, Prince Rahzad?” “I am sorry,” he replies. “The truth is, I am in love, but not with you.” He turns to me, and my spirit takes flight like a flock of doves, startled and erratic. I cannot move, cannot speak, as he takes my hands in his and looks me earnestly in the eye. He presses the ring into my palm, and the gold feels as if it burns my skin. “This belongs to you, and you alone. I’ve been so blind, Zahra. So caught up in the past that I’ve failed to see what’s happening in front of me. I’ve been such an idiot, I don’t know how I can expect anything from you. But I have to try. I have to tell the truth, and the truth is . . . I love you.

Nope.' He grabs my hand and places it over his heart. 'I already know the truth. We’re dating.' His eyebrows waggle. 'Exclusively.' 'Gross.' 'Do you want to wear my letterman’s jacket?' 'I’m going to vomit.' '“Should I buy you a corsage?' 'Seriously. Gagging.' 'Okay, no corsage.' He laughs. 'Just the matching tattoos, then?' 'Seriously.' I fight the urge to stomp my foot. 'Let it go, Parker. Let it go.' 'Hey, Elsa, don’t quote Frozen to me unless you’re prepared to listen to the entire soundtrack in my car on the way to Seaport.' I stare up at him. 'I’m not sure whether I should be disturbed or turned on by the fact that you know all the words to Let It Go.' He grins. 'Definitely turned on.' 'Downloaded in your iTunes library, no doubt.' I shake my head. 'This is nearly as disturbing as the time I learned the song A Whole New World from Aladdin is a metaphor for mind-blowing sex.' 'I’m sorry, what?' 'I can open your eyes? Lead you wonder by wonder? Over, sideways, and under?' I snort. 'Come on. That’s basically soft-core porn.' 'Thank you, Zoe, for ruining a beloved Disney classic for me.' 'Anytime.' 'For the record…' He trails off. I wince, anticipating the worst. 'What?' 'I’ll take you on my magic carpet ride any time you want, snookums.' 'Pass.' 'So, that’s a no on rubbing my lamp then?' 'You know, I think I’ll just find my own way to Nate’s…' I turn and start walking to the elevator. 'Oh, come on.' Parker twines his fingers with mine and pushes the call button, humming under his breath. 'I’m a genie in a bottle, baby, gotta rub—' 'AH!' I stare at him in horror as the elevator arrives. 'So help me god if you start singing vintage Christina Aguilera lyrics right now, I will murder you with my bare hands.

It was odd that I hadn’t really noticed till now what a beautiful evening it was. The street lamps glowed like ripe oranges among the bare boughs. Below in the wet street their globes glimmered down and down, to drown in their own reflections. He hangs in shades the orange bright, like golden lamps … and on the pavements there were piles of oranges, too, real ones, spilled there in prodigal piles with aubergines and green and scarlet peppers. The open door of a wine-shop glittered like Aladdin’s cave with bottles from floor to roof, shelf on shelf of ruby and amber and purple, the rich heart of a hundred sun-drenched harvests. From a brightly-lit workmen’s café nearby came music, the sound of voices loud in argument, and the smell of new bread. The last lamp drowned its golden moon in the road ahead. The last house vanished and we were running between hedgeless fields. To the right a pale sky still showed clear under the western rim of the rain-clouds, and against it the bare trees that staked the road stood out black and sheer. The leaves of an ilex cut the half-light like knives. A willow streamed in the wind like a woman’s hair. The road lifted itself ahead, mackerel-silver under its bending poplars. The blue hour, the lovely hour … Then the hills were round us, and it was dark.

That night, Marjan dreamt of Mehregan. The original day of thanksgiving, the holiday is celebrated during the autumn equinox in Iran. A fabulous excuse for a dinner party, something that Persians the world over have a penchant for, Mehregan is also a challenge to the forces of darkness, which if left unheeded will encroach even on the brightest of flames. Bonfires and sparklers glitter in the evening skies on this night, and in homes across the country, everyone is reminded of their blessings by the smell of roasting 'ajil', a mixture of dried fruit, salty pumpkin seeds, and roasted nuts. Handfuls are showered on the poor and needy on Mehregan, with a prayer that the coming year will find them fed and showered with the love of friends and family. In Iran, it was Marjan's favorite holiday. She even preferred it to the bigger and brasher New Year's celebrations in March, anticipating the festivities months in advance. The preparations would begin as early as July, when she and the family gardener, Baba Pirooz, gathered fruit from the plum, apricot, and pear trees behind their house. Along with the green pomegranate bush, the fruit trees ran the length of the half-acre garden. Four trees deep and rustling with green and burgundy canopies, the fattened orchard always reminded Marjan of the bejeweled bushes in the story of Aladdin, the boy with the magic lamp. It was sometimes hard to believe that their home was in the middle of a teeming city and not closer to the Alborz mountains, which looked down on Tehran from loftier heights. After the fruit had been plucked and washed, it would be laid out to dry in the sun. Over the years, Marjan had paid close attention to her mother's drying technique, noting how the fruit was sliced in perfect halves and dipped in a light sugar water to help speed up the wrinkling. Once dried, it would be stored in terra-cotta canisters so vast that they could easily have hidden both both young Marjan and Bahar. And indeed, when empty the canisters had served this purpose during their hide-and-seek games.

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For five hundred years my sisterhood has passed down a sacred vow,” says Caspida coldly, “to destroy the one who destroyed our queen. You know this, and you speak these words only to deceive me as you deceived her. You would have me believe that you are capable of love.” “Believe me when I say I wish that I were not!” Angrily I round on her. “I do not tell you this for myself! Aladdin will die any moment, and the only way to save him is if you make a wish! Please, Caspida—they will kill him at dawn!” I point at the horizon, where the sun is minutes away from rising. “Let me save him, I beg you!” I drop to my knees before her, doing what I never thought I could: grovel before a human. My pride unravels into smoke, carried away on the wind. Always I have thought myself above these mortals—I, immortal, powerful, able to shift from this form to that. But I let all of that go now, and I beg as I have never begged before. “Do what you like with me after that, but just let me save him!” I dig my fingers into the earth, my eyes damp with tears. My voice falls to a cracked whisper. “Please.” “Why?” I raise my face, finding her gaze unyielding. “Because it was my idea. Him wishing to be made a prince. Courting you. Lying all these weeks. I manipulated him and used him, and now they will kill him for it.” “Why would you lead him into the palace knowing that eventually the truth would come out and he would have to pay the price?” “Because . . .” I grind my teeth together, wishing the earth would swallow me up. “Because I was trying to win my freedom. Your people had captured the prince of the jinn—Nardukha’s own son. The Shaitan sent me to free him, and in turn, he would free me from my lamp. If I failed, he planned to sink your city into the sea. I had to get into the palace. Aladdin was my only way in.” “So you don’t deny that you’re a monster. You used him for your own ends.” I drop my head. “I know what I am. I know nothing can excuse what I did to Roshana, or to Aladdin, or to you. I’ve wronged so many, and there is so much I wish I could take back. I can’t save Roshana. But please—I beg of you—let me save him.” Caspida lowers to her knees and studies me. I meet her gaze, humbled utterly. “You want me to believe that you love him,” she whispers. “Yes.” The word is but a breath, a stir of air in my treacherous lungs. “We’re running out of time. I cannot reverse death or the hours. Time is the strongest magic, and no jinni—not even the Shaitan—can rewrite the past. Once Aladdin is gone, he is gone. Let me save him, and I can help you win your city.

Each night I read you stories— Sinbad, Aladdin, Periebanou, Periezade— in that strange exotic language you cannot possibly understand: countenance, repast, bequeathed, nuptial, what can these words be telling you? What can they signify? That I love you? It’s time to sleep? Keep safe throughout this night? And yet you will not let me simplify, get angry if I explain, and hang on every word as if our lives depended on it. Perhaps they do. One day the stories will fail us, there will be nothing left to tell, another hand will rub your back, another genie will rise. But for now, sleep tight, sleep tight, and dream of the singing tree, the speaking bird, the golden water, the stone that was your father, restored by morning light.

But are you aware of the courage, the audacity which my profession requires? Very few people are gifted for it. I had the vocation. It showed very early in my capacity for deluding myself... What I corrupted was what is called the truth in favour of a marvellous world. I could always improve on the facts... The smoke issuing from Aladdin's lamp was my first smokescreen, and the lies learned from fairytales were my first perjuries. Let us say I had perverted tendencies: I believed everything I read. I never found a way to get what I wanted except by robbery.

Aladdin is in love!

What good is it, Habiba, to deny the truth? Your friendship woke something in me all those centuries ago, some dormant humanity that had lingered through the years, and after you died, it recoiled and hid again. But Aladdin has woken it once more. With his sun-bright smile and his laughing eyes and his way of asking the hardest kind of questions. After you, I swore never to love again. But I love him. And so I must let him go.