Capri Love Quotes

Because we would not wear any clothes because it was so hot and the windows open and the swallows flying over the roofs of the houses and when it was dark afterward and you went to the window very small bats hunting over the houses and close down over the trees and we would drink capri and the door locked and it hot and only a sheet and the whole night and we would both love each other all night in the hot night in Milan. That was how it ought to be.

I’ll tell you the story of the wave and the rock. It’s an old story. Older than we are. Listen. Once upon a time there was a wave who loved a rock in the sea, let us say in the Bay of Capri. The wave foamed and swirled around the rock, she kissed him day and night, she embraced him with her white arms, she sighed and wept and besought him to come to her. She loved him and stormed about him and in that way slowly undermined him, and one day he yielded, completely undermined, and sank into her arms.” “And suddenly he was no longer a rock to be played with, to be loved, to be dreamed of. He was only a block of stone at the bottom of the sea, drowned in her. The wave felt disappointed and deceived and looked for another rock “What does that mean? He should have remained a rock.” “The wave always says that. But things that move are stronger than immovable things. Water is stronger than rocks.

Compreendi por fim que o amor causa muito sofrimento quando acontecem coisas más. E foi por causa dele que comecei a entender que podem também advir coisas boas do amor.

Tell me something about yourself.” “I’d rather save the small talk.” “There’s no need to be rude, child, and believe me, I’m asking for a reason. Tell me something about yourself. Anything.” “I’m twenty-eight . . .” He rejected that one out of hand. “Something personal. Something . . . interior. Tell me something you love.” I thought about it for a long few seconds, then said, “Ralph Lauren’s summer line this year. Not the spring collection, which was way too pastel, and the winter was really crappy, all bland browns and grays. But he’s got some good fabrics this summer, kind of a hot tangerine matched with dull red. Only he skirts, though. Hiscapri pants are for shit. Pockets? Who wants pockets on capri pants? What woman in her right mind puts extra fabric on her hips?” There was a long and ringing silence. Patrick’s eyes were wide and rather frightened. He finally cleared his throat and said, “Anything else apart from fashion?” “What do you want me to say? Puppies? Fluffy kittens? Babies?” “Let’s try something simple. Your favorite food.” I rolled my eyes. “Chocolate.” Duh .

The late 1920s were an age of islands, real and metaphorical. They were an age when Americans by thousands and tens of thousands were scheming to take the next boat for the South Seas or the West Indies, or better still for Paris, from which they could scatter to Majorca, Corsica, Capri or the isles of Greece. Paris itself was a modern city that seemed islanded in the past, and there were island countries, like Mexico, where Americans could feel that they had escaped from everything that oppressed them in a business civilization. Or without leaving home they could build themselves private islands of art or philosophy; or else - and this was a frequent solution - they could create social islands in the shadow of the skyscrapers, groups of close friends among whom they could live as unconstrainedly as in a Polynesian valley, live without moral scruples or modern conveniences, live in the pure moment, live gaily on gin and love and two lamb chops broiled over a coal fire in the grate. That was part of the Greenwich Village idea, and soon it was being copied in Boston, San Francisco, everywhere.

Dr. Deol about his son’s third-grade teacher, who still thinks Pluto is a planet; nod as Dr. Sader sips on a Capri Sun while rambling about dark matter being not a clump but a smoothly distributed wavy superfluid. It’s going well, I tell myself

What up, Stanka Butt?” Capone grinned, showing his grills. Usually, this was a dream and the perfect set up for a why choose situation with all these fine men in this small bedroom with just me. I loved a challenge, but now I was scared and didn’t know what to do.

Sometimes people ask me why I travel so much, and specifically why we travel with Henry so often. I think they think it’s easier to keep the kids at home, in their routines, surrounded by their stuff. It is. But we travel because it’s there. Because Capri exists and Kenya exists and Tel Aviv exists, and I want to taste every bite of it. We travel because I want my kids to learn, as I learned, that there are a million ways to live, a million ways to eat, a million ways to dress and speak and view the world. I want them to know that “our way” isn’t the right way, but just one way, that children all over the world, no matter how different they seem, are just like the children in our neighborhood—they love to play, to discover, to learn. I want my kids to learn firsthand and up close that different isn’t bad, but instead that different is exciting and wonderful and worth taking the time to understand. I want them to see themselves as bit players in a huge, sweeping, beautiful play, not as the main characters in the drama of our living room. I want my kids to taste and smell and experience the biggest possible world, because every bite of it, every taste and texture and flavor, is delicious.

There is a great ladder of religious cruelty with many rungs; but three of them are the most important. At one time one sacrificed human beings to one's god, perhaps precisely those human beings one loved best–the sacrifice of the first-born present in all prehistoric religions belongs here, as does the sacrifice of the Emperor Tiberius in the Mithras grotto on the isle of Capri, that most horrible of all Roman anachronisms. Then, in the moral epoch of mankind, one sacrificed to one's god the strongest instincts one possessed, one's ‘nature’; the joy of this festival glitters in the cruel glance of the ascetic, the inspired ‘anti-naturist’. Finally: what was left to be sacrificed? Did one not finally have to sacrifice everything comforting, holy, healing, all hope, all faith in a concealed harmony, in a future bliss and justice? Did one not have to sacrifice God himself and out of cruelty against oneself worship stone, stupidity, gravity, fate, nothingness? To sacrifice God for nothingness–this paradoxical mystery of the ultimate act of cruelty was reserved for the generation which is even now arising: we all know something of it already.

There is a great ladder of religious cruelty, with many rounds; but three of these are the most important. Once on a time men sacrificed human beings to their God, and perhaps just those they loved the best—to this category belong the firstling sacrifices of all primitive religions, and also the sacrifice of the Emperor Tiberius in the Mithra-Grotto on the Island of Capri, that most terrible of all Roman anachronisms. Then, during the moral epoch of mankind, they sacrificed to their God the strongest instincts they possessed, their "nature"; THIS festal joy shines in the cruel glances of ascetics and "anti-natural" fanatics. Finally, what still remained to be sacrificed? Was it not necessary in the end for men to sacrifice everything comforting, holy, healing, all hope, all faith in hidden harmonies, in future blessedness and justice? Was it not necessary to sacrifice God himself, and out of cruelty to themselves to worship stone, stupidity, gravity, fate, nothingness? To sacrifice God for nothingness—this paradoxical mystery of the ultimate cruelty has been reserved for the rising generation; we all know something thereof already.

There is a great ladder of religious cruelty, with many rounds; but three of these are the most important. Once on a time men sacrificed human beings to their God, and perhaps just those they loved the best — to this category belong the firstling sacrifices of all primitive religions, and also the sacrifice of the Emperor Tiberius in the Mithra-Grotto on the Island of Capri, that most terrible of all Roman anachronisms. Then, during the moral epoch of mankind, they sacrificed to their God the strongest instincts they possessed, their “nature”; THIS festal joy shines in the cruel glances of ascetics and “anti-natural” fanatics. Finally, what still remained to be sacrificed? Was it not necessary in the end for men to sacrifice everything comforting, holy, healing, all hope, all faith in hidden harmonies, in future blessedness and justice? Was it not necessary to sacrifice God himself, and out of cruelty to themselves to worship stone, stupidity, gravity, fate, nothingness? To sacrifice God for nothingness — this paradoxical mystery of the ultimate cruelty has been reserved for the rising generation; we all know something thereof already.

Closing the door, she turned back to him, taking in the long, muscled length of him on the bed, staring at her. Waiting for her. Perfection. He was perfect, and she was bare before him, bathed in candlelight. She was instantly embarrassed- somehow more embarrassed than she had been that night in his office, when she'd touched herself under his careful guidance. At least then she'd been wearing a corset. Stockings. Tonight, she wore nothing. She was all flaws, each one highlighted by his perfection. He watched her for a long moment before extending one muscled arm, palm up, an irresistible invitation. She went to him without hesitation, and he rolled to his back, pulling her over his lovely, lean chest, staring up at her intently. She covered her breasts in a wave of nerves and trepidation. "When you look at me like that... it's too much." He did not look away. "How do I look at you?" "I don't know what it is... but I feel as though you can see into me. As though, if you could, you would consume me." "It's want, love. Desire like nothing I've never experienced. I'm fairly shaking with it. Come here." The demand was impossible to resist, carrying with it the promise of pleasure beyond her dreams. She went. When she was close enough to touch, he lifted one hand, stroking his fingers along hers where they hid her breasts from view. "I tremble with need for you, Pippa. Please, love, let me see you." The request was raw and wretched, and she couldn't deny him, slowly moving her hands to settle them on his chest, fingers splayed wide across the crisp auburn hair that dusted his skin. She was distracted by that hair, the play of it over muscle- the way it narrowed to a lovely dark line across his flat stomach. He lay still as she touched him, his muscles firm and perfect. "You're so beautiful," she whispered, fingers stroking down his arms to his wrists. His gaze narrowed on her. "I am happy you approve, my lady." She smiled. "Oh I do, my lord. You are a remarkable specimen." White teeth flashed again as she gained her courage, retracing her touch, over his forearms, marveling in the feel of him, reciting from memory, "flexor digitorium superficialis, flexor capri radialis..." along his upper arms, "biceps brachii, tricipitis brachii..." over his shoulders, loving the way his muscles tensed and flexed beneath her touch, "deltoideus..." and down his chest, "subscapularis... pectoralis major..." She stilled, brushing her fingers over the curve of that muscle, the landscape of him... the valleys of his body. He sucked in a breath as her fingers ran over the flat discs of his nipples, arching up to her touch, and she stilled, reveling in her power. He enjoyed her touch. He wanted it. She repeated the stroke, this time with her thumbs. He hissed his pleasure, one wide hand falling to the inside of her knee, sending a river of heat through her. "Don't stop now, love. This is the most effective seduction I've ever experienced.

The girls seemed unconcerned and went about their days, each as lovely in their own way as the flowers they tended. Sorrel's black hair became streaked with premature white, which gave her an exotic air, although the elegance was somewhat ruined by the muddy jeans and shorts she practically lived in. Nettie, on the other hand, had a head of baby-fine blonde hair that she wore short, thinking, wrongly, that it would look less childlike. Nettie wouldn't dream of being caught in dirty jeans and was always crisply turned out in khaki capris or a skirt and a white shirt. She considered her legs to be her finest feature. She was not wrong. Patience was the sole Sparrow redhead, although her hair had deepened from its childhood ginger and was now closer to the color of a chestnut. It was heavy and glossy as a horse's mane, and she paid absolutely no attention to it or to much else about her appearance, nor did she have to. In the summer her wide-legged linen trousers and cut-off shorts were speckled with dirt and greenery, her camisoles tatty and damp. The broad-brimmed hat she wore to pick was most often dangling from a cord down her back. As a result, the freckles that feathered across her shoulders and chest were the color of caramel and resistant to her own buttermilk lotion (Nettie smoothed it on Patience whenever she could make her stand still). When it was terribly hot, Patience wore the sundresses she'd found packed away in the attic. She knew they were her mother's, and she liked to imagine how happy Honor had been in them.

This life. The next life. Every life after that. I will love you in all of them, Lennon Capri. It doesn’t matter who you become or how you change. My soul will always belong to yours.

Fuck that nigga. I’m gonna love you in front of those that fumbled you. I want them to know that this glow you wearing is because of your man. I put that there, and I’m gonna keep it there. You’re being loved and fucked right. Stop worrying about what the fuck egg head thinks.

Roy, you accused me of doing crack… now you love me?

May you have a love where he wears your anklets like earrings every night ;)

What are you listening to? I love that song.” “It’s the college station. Logan’s show is on,” I say with more than a smidgen of pride. “Hold on.” A second later, Logan’s voice echoes between my radio and hers, which would normally be annoying, but gravelly voice or not, it’s him. “We have a caller. Caller, we’re discussing when was the last time you told someone off. Go ahead.” “Eek.” I can picture her nose crinkle up. “He does not sound happy.” The caller’s voice echoes just like Logan’s did, but this person makes me want to clap my hands over my ears. “I know what’s wrong with you, A.L. It’s that girl, isn’t it? The one you had on the show last week. Well, I’m not going to say I told you so.” “Hold up! I know that voice,” Terra squeals. “I know, right? It’s been driving me crazy but I can’t—” Terra cuts me off. “That’s Rayann.” “No, this girl’s name is Capri.” I pause to listen more. “There’s nothing wrong with me,” Logan says. “If you say so,” Capri says, and it feels like a heavenly light of knowledge bursts through my ceiling to shine down while a choir sings in the background. Those words sound exactly as they did a couple of weeks ago when they were spoken to me. “Oh my good gravy, it is her!” I yell into the phone.

We all need to withdraw from the world, occasionally. I think there are many ways people lose themselves into something they love to do.

I was serious when I said I was getting Capri help starting tomorrow. This cannot happen again. Even if I have to take Jamari in with me until she’s able to get better, that’s just what I was going to have to go.

She was beautiful. I didn’t notice until now, how much Troy and Capri resembled each other. She was a beautiful

I wanted to see my baby girl, Ruby, and check on Capri. My mother told me she wasn’t doing too well.

I knew Stash’s death was my fault but hearing Capri blame Camilla for it made me feel like shit. Capri and Camilla were best friends so I wasn’t sure how Camilla was going to feel towards Capri after hearing how she felt. 

Capri was really serious about not letting Camilla ride with her. I had to admit I was kind of scared too.

I knew they had something to do with Supreme’s disappearance. What Camilla and Capri didn't know was that I’d been fucking Supreme for a few months. I fell in love with him.

Everybody loves somebody sometime, but no one is loved by everyone all the time. Thomas

I’ve always loved morning. It’s just that I usually sleep through it.

You can remove someone from your mind, but the most difficult task is removing them from your heart. No matter how bad a nigga treats you, once you love him, that love for him still misses him when he’s gone.    

For although Hailey thought nothing of leaping from the highest diving platform or swimming so far out to sea that she disappeared from sight, she was easily frightened by other things - a future she couldn't control, for instance, or the notion that a lifelong friendship might be lost at the end of the week when the Capri closed down for good and Claire moved away.

How you go from lover boy to lowkey threatening me.” I smiled, secretly loving the fact that he didn’t play behind me.

Usually, this was a dream and the perfect set up for a why choose situation with all these fine men in this small bedroom with just me. I loved a challenge, but now I was scared and didn’t know what to do.

You can’t ruin something that is meant for you. I’m meant for you… I don’t care how much you feel you’re not worth being loved, you are, Suga.

Our house… stop playing with me.” He bit my bottom lip and pulled it. “Love you, Mrs. Crash Out.

Capri crawled up in Blaze’s lap, and I looked over at them. “Twins, huh?” “Double the blessings.” “Uncle Meer loves her so so so much… He’ll always have double the blessings.

The throne ain’t cold no more, the king is inferno and heat rises.” . “You heard the fucking queen!” Goon hollered. I smirked. “I hear you, Anjo… I love you.” “Love you, too,” she quickly handed Capri back the phone, and she came into the camera with a slushie looking drink in her hand. “Uh huh… Dog house doesn’t feel nice, huh?” “Suga, mind yo damn business.” “Where my baby cakes at?” “Gerald… please.” We all laughed when we heard Zoya’s voice. “You’ve owed me a date for a good little minute now, so make sure you make it back so we can have that date, k?” I ain’t never seen a nigga like Goon blush the way he was right now. “Already know… gonna take you some place real expensive.” “Nope, I want a Goon date. Been everywhere expensive already, fuck you mean,” she snickered. “Sug, I’ll call you when we land.” “Love you, Meer Cat… you better be careful and give ‘em hell, Blaze. I would hate to be looking for a new step-daddy with all these kids… what you said, Cappy? Soul train line of hood niggas?” “Baby doll, not right fucking now,” Cappadonna looked up from his phone and laughed, while Meer got crazy in the eyes. “Stop fucking playing with me… love you Mrs. Inferno.” She giggled. “Love you, Meer… oh, you can bring me⁠—” “Breaking up, Sug.” He quickly ended the call. Capone looked at him. “You hung up on my pregnant sister, nigga.” “You wanna travel with some weird ass food craving she got?” He nodded. “You right.” Goon settled in his chair. “Mark my fucking words… I’m marrying her and putting three babies in her. Changing that last name from Caselli.” “You wanna be Menace’s brother-in-law? Shit.” Capone whistled. “He ain’t all that bad, though… you gotta just understand the man.” I pointed at him. “That’s cause yo ass is crazy… crazy understand crazy.

bit.” I shrugged. “Fuck that nigga. I’m gonna love you in front of those that fumbled you. I want them to know that this glow you wearing is because of your man. I put that there, and I’m gonna keep it there. You’re being loved and fucked right. Stop worrying about what the fuck egg head thinks.

Naheim was the typical nigga that came home from prison and just wanted to fall into some pussy. He wasn’t worried about the fact that he was married or that Capri loved his dirty draws.

Baby, I love you so much. Not for what you do for me, but for how you love me. How you show me that there’s never a no when it comes to you, you’re going to make it happen for us.

This whole journey she had went on alone would mean nothing if I didn’t come to her like a real man. Showing her my intentions and how I wanted to love her until I had nothing left to give. Suga deserved someone to put her first for once. A man that was going to come behind her with pure love and devotion. We both had been hurt, our hearts broken, and together I felt like we could heal each other.

I’m gonna love you in front of those that fumbled you. I want them to know that this glow you wearing is because of your man. I put that there, and I’m gonna keep it there. You’re being loved and fucked right.

You see how proud Sug is to wear that Inferno name. Yeah, she’s Lady Inferno, but it’s time for you to have a Queen Inferno, Sim. Capri Inferno would die for this family, pull up and air everything out behind us… Blair would do the same fucking thing. Stop letting fear get in the way and love the fuck out of her. B deserves that shit.” He stood up and stretched. “Got me not listening to one of my favorite rappers cause of this shit.

I want to be happily in love.

I was spoiled and craved a pair of arms holding me at night, kissing my neck and muttering they loved me while asleep.

Suga deserved someone to put her first for once. A man that was going to come behind her with pure love and devotion.

I didn’t think I was worthy of being loved the way this man has loved me. Worthy of a man telling me how he’s coming behind me and actually standing on that. He loves and accepts all parts of me.

Meer, Baby… why are you crying?” She reached up and wiped my face. This was how I knew this was the woman for me. She had a nigga getting emotional while getting pussy. This wasn’t getting regular pussy for me; this was making love to the woman of my dreams – my wife. “I love you so fucking much, Suga… I would go fucking crazy if something happened to you,” I said while my tears fell onto her lips, and I kissed them away. When she looked back up at me, I could see she was emotional. “I feel the same way about you, Meer. You’re worried about me, and I worry about you every time you step out that door.

She held the coconut milk cans in her hands. “I know Quameer, Baby. I know the Infernos very well, better than you think. I don’t have anything against him, I know he’s a good man. Quinton doesn’t play those games when it comes to his boys.” “Then why do you act like you dislike him?” She sat the cans down. “I guess I can’t see you with anyone else except Naheim. I know how much he loves and protects you. He made a mistake, and no marriage is ever perfect.” “Mom, he didn’t protect me though. Naheim came home and did whatever he wanted, and I protected him. I held in all the shit we went through because I never wanted you guys to see him differently.

Capri loved hard, and when she loved you, she would go to the end of the world for you. Since the first time I met her, I could tell that she was special and would be a special person in my life.

He loved me when it was hard for me to even love myself. This man showed me that I was capable of love, and had shown me it every step of the way. If stepping behind your woman had a picture, it would be Quameer.

Like is really an understatement in this case because I fucking love the taste of his blood. It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted, and I’d like to pack it into little Capri Sun pouches and sip on that shit all day, every day.

Here’s to the mama’s who do what is best for their children. Even if the world may never understand your reasonings, we see and love you!

He never let the day end without telling or showing me how much he loved me. It was something I had never been used to when it came to love.

I love you, Capri… today, tomorrow and forever. You are so deserving of everything that is happening for you.

When you were locked in and in love with your person, you taught them how to please you.

I was straight leaving that baby with her daddy and screaming ‘fuck my baby daddy’ although I loved him very much.

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For a while, I pretended like I didn’t need love, and the truth was that everyone needed love. We all needed that person that ignited us. You saw them, and then your entire world lit up. This year taught me how to be comfortable with being alone. Being alone used to hurt so bad because I was afraid of it. When you had no choice but to be alone, you learned to become comfortable in it.

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