Harry Styles Love Quotes

I love books, by the way, way more than movies. Movies tell you what to think. A good book lets you choose a few thoughts for yourself. Movies show you the pink house. A good book tells you there's a pink house and lets you paint some of the finishing touches, maybe choose the roof style,park your own car out front. My imagination has always topped anything a movie could come up with. Case in point, those darned Harry Potter movies. That was so not what that part-Veela-chick, Fleur Delacour, looked like.

I don't think you can define love.

You know I'll be Your Life Your Voice Your Reason To Be My Love My Heart Is Breathing For this Moment in Time I'll Find the words to say Before You leave me Today

Let's go crazy, crazy, crazy 'til we see the sun. I know we only met but lets pretend its love. And never, never, never stop for anyone. Tonight lets get some and live when we're young! ♫

I'm not perfect. Never have been. Never will be. ~ Louis Tomlinson

He looks like a poem. One of those mournfully beautiful ones with short, unfamiliar words that sound ethereal when spoken and completely nonsensical when thought.

Be a lover. Give love. Choose love. Love everyone, always.

Fill up your own cup, and let them fall in love with the overflow

I should like to be the sun. And you can be the moon.’ [...] ‘But then we’d never see each other.’ [...] ‘Not so, young one. The moon shines because of the sun, you know. Because the sun's always there. Just like me.

He's sweet enough.

You hand fits in mine like its made to be but bear this in mind it was meant to be and im joining up the dots with the freckles on you cheeks and it all makes sense to me. I know you've never loved the crinkles by your eyes when you smile you've never loved your stomach or your thighs and the dimples in your back at the bottom of your spine but I love them endlessly.I won't let these little things slip out of my mouth but if i do its you oh its you they add up to and Im in love with you and all your little thing. You can't go to bed without a cup of tea and maybe thats the reason that you talk in you sleep and all those conversations are the secrets that I keep though it makes no sense to me. I know you've never loved the sound of your voice on tape you never want to know how much you weigh you still have to squeeze into to your jeans but you're perfect to me. I won't let these little things slip out of my mouth but if its true its you its these they add up to and Im in love with you and all you little things. You'll never love yourself half as much as I love you and you'll never treat yourself right darlin' but I want you to if I let you know I'm here for you then maybe you'll love yourself like I love you ohhhhh. And I've just let these little things slip out of my mouth cause its you oh its you its you they add up to and Im in love with you and all your little things I wont let these little things slip out of my mouth but if its true its you its you they add up to and im in love with you and all your little things. <3

Notice how Harry Styles smile is like the Cheshire Cat? And how he is from Cheshire and loves cats...

It's like watching a bird that's been caged its whole existence and is suddenly released, overwhelmed with freedom and life, filling its lungs with what it never dared breathe and filling its eyes with what it never dared see.

I know you've never loved the sound of your voice on tape You never want to know how much you weigh, you still have to squeeze into your jeans But you're perfect to me I won't let these little things Slip out of my mouth But if it's true It's you It's you They add up to I'm in love with you And all these little things

I love you more than I planned

Lesbian rights.

We were two distinct entities, a planet and its moon, drawn together by a gravitational force out of our control, spinning around each other in perfect synchronicity.

but he can’t seem to look away as he stands among chrysanthemums and daisies on a cobblestone path, the tragic musk of roses settled in the air, staring up at dimly lit windows, searching for a boy who barely exists.

He wants to take it back instantly. But he doesn’t. He just sits there, staring at this tornado of a boy with deep shadows and dark curls and holds his fucking hand like a child, unable to pry himself away

I’m getting my things for class when I feel a pair of hands slide down around my eyes. “Guess Who.” “Harry Styles?” “So close it’s insane.” “Okay, give me a clue.” “I’m one of your biggest fans.” “I’m having a hard time, because the only thing that’s coming to mind other than Harry Styles is the ghost of River Phoenix, and I wouldn’t be able to feel his hands.

Harry’s somewhere beyond the realm of existence, in the dark corners that get forgotten or shunned, and he’s far away from everybody, so far away, but Louis imagines himself reaching out, imagines stretching his hand into the bleak darkness, and imagines his fingers brushing against the bits of Harry that are still there. And that’s all he needs.

He is the stillness to my storm, the shadow to my bright sunlight, the Styles to my Harry.

You are impossibly cruel, Louis,’ Harry whispers, turning his body to face him so that they are nose-to-nose, heart-to-heart. Louis’ entire body is thrumming with too many emotions and too many desires and too many fears. 'You are cruel for making everything else seem dull. You are cruel for imprisoning me in your very touch—'—carefully, he brings the pads of his fingers to Louis’ cheekbones, swirls delicate patterns onto his flesh—'—for freeing me with your every word—'—his fingers slide to graze over Louis’ lips—'—and for bestowing upon me the most painful sense of longing that I’ve ever had the pleasure to suffer at the hands of. You have shown me color in a world of gray and you are cruel, Louis Tomlinson, for you take the color with you every moment that you’re not beside me. You are cruel because I will gladly suffer until the world has returned.

When you wake up everyday, you get a chance to think what you wanna do with your day. What you want to put into the world that day, and who you want to be. Be a lover. Choose love. Give love. Love everyone, always. Always. Give as much love as you can. I love you.

Does the little one with the cheekbones know that the prince is in love with him?" -

Does the little one with cheek bones know the prince is in love with him?

Does the little one with cheek bones know the prince is in love with him?

figured Harry Styles would notice me at the back of one of his concerts and whisk me to an unspecified European city to do adorably artsy date activities before we eventually made love, by candlelight, on a bed of rose petals

wandered through Stratford, waiting to hear back. The main downtown area was small and pedestrian, centered on the local tourist industry. Most of the buildings were in the half-timbered Tudor style, lending an air of Renaissance authenticity to the town. Quaint street signs helpfully funneled bumbling tourists toward the attractions: “Shakespeare’s Birthplace” or “Holy Trinity Church and Shakespeare’s Grave.” On High Street, I passed the Hathaway Tea Rooms and a pub called the Garrick Inn. Farther along, a greasy-looking cafe called the Food of Love, a cutesy name taken from Twelfth Night (“ If music be the food of love, play on”). The town was Elizabethan kitsch—plus souvenir shops, a Subway, a Starbucks, a cluster of high-end boutiques catering to moneyed out-of-towners, more souvenir shops. Shakespeare’s face was everywhere, staring down from signs and storefronts like a benevolent big brother. The entrance to the “Old Bank estab. 1810” was gilded ornately with an image of Shakespeare holding a quill, as though he functioned as a guarantee of the bank’s credibility. Confusingly, there were several Harry Potter–themed shops (House of Spells, the Creaky Cauldron, Magic Alley). You could almost feel the poor locals scheming how best to squeeze a few more dollars out of the tourists. Stratford and Hogwarts, quills and wands, poems and spells. Then again, maybe the confusion was apt: Wasn’t Shakespeare the quintessential boy wizard, magically endowed with inexplicable powers?

You protected me. Why?" he demanded. "Because if anyone is going to kill you, Kian, it's going to be me," Elise snapped. His face lit up in a devastating smile like she had just told him that she loved him, and he had won the lotto and was invited to a threesome with Harry Styles, all at the same time. He was ecstatic, and it was disturbing as hell, considering Elise had admitted she wanted to murder him.

If I said my karaoke song was 'Adore You' by Harry Styles, what would that say about me?" I tilted my head. "I'm not familiar with that song, actually." He grinned. "Great. That means I'm up." A funky pop song started playing and Jae put his all into portraying a guy who didn't need his lover to say she loved him, he just wanted to show how passionate he was about her. Jae's musical talent mostly extended to playing instruments, but what his voice lacked in smoothness, he made up for with enthusiasm and sincerity and oh my gulay, he was looking me dead in the eyes as he sang as if there was no one else in the room and I was ready to melt under his heated gaze. Ready to do lots of things, honestly, none of which would be appropriate in front of a crowd, particularly one that included my aunt and grandmother.

Fred Smith’s replacement would be Gary Valentine, a New Jersey fuckup who liked to occasionally go out in drag and had a talent for songwriting. For a while he lived with Harry and Stein in Harry’s tiny one-bedroom at 105 Thompson Street; Stein was subletting his own place at 18 First Avenue off First Street to Tommy Ramone. Harry had a ’67 Camaro that opposite-side-of-the-street parking rules required her or Stein to move back and forth in the early morning, but it was beloved; on summer days she’d drive the guys to Jones Beach or Coney Island, looking like a modern version of a Shangri-Las song where the girl had the wheels and called the shots. While there was plenty of style-mixing,

All I do know is that if I ever hear a man make fun of a woman for loving Harry Styles or anything, for that matter…I am going to out them for the fangirls they are.

All I do know is that if I ever hear a man make fun of a woman for loving Harry Styles or anything, for that matter…I am going to out them for the fangirls they are. My life is being ruined because this judge is the equivalent of a Swiftie. The Raiders are basically his Taylor, and I’m paying the price for Crew’s betrayal.” “Yeah, that judge is a real antihero…” Mills throws out, making my sister smile before she answers in the exact way I knew one of them would the moment I made a fucking Taylor Swift comparison.

On Jan. 30, a Japanese-American college student named George Miller, posted a three-and-a-half minute compilation of comedy on YouTube. Miller has been posting videos since 2008 and had developed an absurd comic style and an audience of tens of thousands. Miller’s movie began with 19 seconds of “Pink Guy,” (a character where he plays a mime in a pink body suit who dances and pratfalls) and three friends dancing in Miller’s bedroom to an obscure piece of electronic dance music: “Harlem Shake” by a little-known DJ called Harry Rodrigues, or “Baauer.” Miller’s audience loved the dance. Within hours, one fan had posted a video that looped the 19-second sequence for three and a half minutes.

And also, here's the other thing about not always being universally loved: NO ONE IS. Not a single soul. Some people hate Beyoncé. Some people hate Harry Styles. Some people hate Rihanna. Those people are idiots, and I hate them, but that's the truth. And if not even the Holy Trinity are universally loved, what hope is there for the rest of us? So you might as well just be and do you. When I find out someone doesn't like me, after writing them off as a balloon animal who isn't worthy of my time, I just think WELL, TOO BAD FOR THEM, I GUESS. And, like Arya Stark (that's her name, right?), add them to the list of people I will mention when I win the first of many awards to remind them: fuck you.

It is inappropriate now to make fun of girls for screaming or boy bands for existing or anybody for liking anything. [... But] Not all women are "our future doctors, lawyers, mothers, presidents," I would love to tell Harry Styles. Not all women keep the world going! And it is not, in fact, okay to like whatever you want. Some stuff is genuinely bad, like Mark Zuckerberg or the Harry Styles song "Woman.

Does the little one with the cheekbones know that the prince is in love with him?

330 Love Ln. Playlist Love Story– Taylor Swift Everything I wanted – Billie Ellish Jolene – Dolly Parton Dust to Dust – The Civil Wars Adore You – Harry Styles This is Me Trying – Taylor Swift Till Forever – Joy Williams I Was Born to Love You – Ray LaMontagne

We have a choice every day of what we can put into the world. Please choose love every single day.

So simple in concept, ratatouille exists in many variants. Like a folk song, it has crossed continents, and found its way into a hundred different traditions. Marguerite's recipe calls for tomatoes, sweet red peppers, aubergines, onions, garlic, all combined with bay and seasonings, and a good splash of olive oil. Served with grilled red mullet, it makes a simple, wholesome dish, a dish that comes with a line of verse from Margot's favorite poet: The greatest love can only grow beside a dream of equal size. Food is love in Margot's world: simple, warm and constant. As for myself, I am almost two thirds of the way through her book of recipes. I can make madeleines, brioche, pieds paquets, pomponettes, leblebi, chickpea stew with merguez, Marseille-style pizza, aioli, navettes, and fiadoni, the Corsican cheesecake so beloved by Louis' regulars. I know the difference between pâte brisée and pâte feuilletée, fougasse and pissaladière. I know how to fillet rockfish; how to keep the heads for stock; how to stir red saffron through rice to make the most luscious risotto. Cooking has become a joy, an unexpected talent. Domestic magic is humbler, perhaps, than my mother's glamours and tricks, and yet it makes a difference.