Liverpool Love Quotes

Have you ever met someone for the first time, but in your heart you feel as if you’ve met them before?

Sebastian Grey. The worrds rang like a miserable moan in her head. On the list of men she ought not to be kissing, he had to rank at the top, along with the King, Lord Liverpool, and the chimney sweep.

To hold the courage to let another witness our tears, while refuting fears invitation to shield face, is to grant the most privileged of all loving intimacies to them.

..here is not the world. Here is a place where there is no work or homework, where people do not judge each other, and where they do not try to outdo each other.

Why would you need to melt to enlighten people like a candle? Every move you make gives an ironic smile to others, that's all.

If people are talking about the past instead of future, if they start to tell about their memories instead of dreams, it means they are getting older.

Like many other who have lived long in a great capital, she had strong feelings about the various railway termini. They are our gates to the glorious and unknown. Through them we pass out into adventure and sunshine, to them, alas! we return. In Paddington all Cornwall is latent and the remoter west; down the inclines of Liverpool Street lie fenlands and the illimitable Broads; Scotland is through the pylons of Euston; Wessex behind the poised chaos of Waterloo. Italians realize this, as is natural; those of them who are so unfortunate as to serve as waiters in Berlin call the Anhalt Bahnhof the Stazione d’Italia, because by it they must return to their homes. And he is a chilly Londoner who does not endow his stations with some personality, and extend to them, however shyly, the emotions of fear and love.

I do so love hearing people speak passionately on any subject, other than themselves.

The idea of coming back to you was something like giving money to a beggar: a person feels bad himself if he gives money to a beggar or if he doesn’t do that

Loneliness, especially long-term loneliness, give birth to geniuses or mad people.

These eyes are a mysterious torch that illuminates the outside only. I always live in darkness, but my darkness is full of stars.

Men don’t get drunk from a really good wine but from a beautiful woman.

Football world is ungrateful Leo, those who carried you on their shoulders yesterday will not even ask how you are doing when you fall into disfavor.

The same sun gives different colors to different plants. The snake and bee drinks water but one of them produces poison, the other one produces honey.

I have sacrificed my life for my love and I have sacrificed my love for Liverpool.

Gold melts in fire, women melt in gold, and men melt in women.

Those who pursue opportunities catch them, not lazies.

I fell in love with Red-White colours and I can not carry two great loves in one heart.

Time wipes successes that easily achieved and cheap.

When fair-play and the interests of the team conflict with each other, which one should you choose?

It is easier for small children to obey rules than making choices for themselves. In fact this doesn’t change when one grows up.

The first question sobbed out by his choking voice, oppressed with emotion, was-- "Where is she?" They led him to the room where his mother sat. They had told her of her son's acquittal, and now she was laughing, and crying, and talking, and giving way to all those feelings which she had restrained with such effort during the last few days. They brought her son to her, and she threw herself upon his neck, weeping there. He returned her embrace, but looked around, beyond. Excepting his mother, there was no one in the room but the friends who had entered with him. "Eh, lad!" she said, when she found voice to speak. "See what it is to have behaved thysel! I could put in a good word for thee, and the jury could na go and hang thee in the face of th' character I gave thee. Was na it a good thing they did na keep me from Liverpool? But I would come; I knew I could do thee good, bless thee, my lad. But thou'rt very white, and all of a tremble." He kissed her again and again, but looking round as if searching for some one he could not find, the first words he uttered were still-- "Where is she?

Men who love the Stones are fixated on cock. I’m sorry, but that’s the only word. And a firehose is a symbolic fantasy cock. It’s pathetic. Male Stones fans are frozen at eighteen months old, just discovering the thrill of yanking on the rubber band of their own phallus. Female Stones fans are even worse. Mick Jagger has a weird gross mouth that makes him look like a cod, and this turns them on. They’re sexually aroused by fish-men. They’re deviants.” “So what are Beatles fans fixated on? The glory of pussy?” “Exactly. Strawberry Fields is not just a place in Liverpool, Mr. Rookwood.

It is, as calls to arms go, straightforward. Crystal clear. And if you aren’t looking forward to Spurs and Kazan, to Southampton and Bournemouth, if that just doesn’t get you going, wanting to be emotional, unashamedly emotional, optimistic, passionate in a way that outsiders love to mock and our own meek minded souls call 'embarrassing' then you know what? There’s the door. There is the door, and you can walk through it, and both you and us will be happier for that. Because, for ninety minutes every few days, this fella represents Liverpool, eleven lads wearing Red represent Liverpool and we represent Liverpool. Wherever we are on globe, with an even greater responsibility if we are in the stadium.

I wish I could say, James, that we forgave each other in the end. I wish I could say: she put her head on my shoulder and I welcomed it and we laughed and said all was well. But in fact we were quiet for a long time, and we heard a television laughing across the road and the train leaving for Liverpool Street, and then she said, 'Do you think we can love each other and never ever forgive?' I didn't know, I said. But I thought we ought to try. (Thomas Hart)

CHARLIE (Intently) You hate all white men, don’t you, Matoseh? TSHEMBE (A burst of laughter. Casting his eyes up) Oh, dear God, why? (He crosses down and away) Why do you all need it so?! This absolute lo-o-onging for my hatred! (A sad smile plays across his lips) I shall be honest with you, Mr. Morris. I do not “hate” all white men—but I desperately wish that I did. It would make everything infinitely easier! But I am afraid that, among other things, I have seen the slums of Liverpool and Dublin and the caves above Naples. I have seen Dachau and Anne Frank’s attic in Amsterdam. I have seen too many raw-knuckled Frenchmen coming out of the Metro at dawn and too many hungry Italian children to believe that those who raided Africa for three centuries ever “loved” the white race either. I would like to be simple-minded for you, but—(Turning these eyes that have “seen” up to the other with a smile)—I cannot. I have—(He touches his brow)—seen.

My mother was in charge of language. My father had never really learned to read - he could manage slowly, with his fingers on the line, but he had left school at twelve and gone to work at the Liverpool docks. Before he was twelve, no one had bothered to read to him. His own father had been a drunk who often took his small son to the pub with him, left him outside, staggered out hours later and walked home, and forgot my dad, asleep in a doorway. Dad loved Mrs Winterson reading out loud - and I did too. She always stood up while we two sat down, and it was intimate and impressive all at the same time. She read the Bible every night for half an hour, starting at the beginning, and making her way through all sixty-six books of the Old and New Testaments. When she got to her favourite bit, the Book of Revelation, and the Apocalypse, and everyone being exploded and the Devil in the bottomless pit, she gave us all a week off to think about things. Then she started again, Genesis Chapter One. 'In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth...' It seemed to me to be a lot of work to make a whole planet, a whole universe, and blow it up, but that is one of the problems with the literal-minded versions of Christianity; why look after the planet when you know it is all going to end in pieces?

My erstwhile lady-love would have had a field day analysing the defensive interaction in Brendan Rodgers' Liverpool team last season. Now there was a bunch of men with communication issues.

She loved John more than anything, and had done since the moment she saw him half an hour after he was born at the maternity hospital in Oxford Street, Liverpool.

Coincidentally, those likeable young lads from Liverpool had just peaked at number two in the UK pop chart with their second single, 'Please Please Me'. The Beatles they were called. What a funny name that was. I was four years old and I loved The Beatles... and Fireball XL5.

And all the time, as the train went whirling through reverberant tunnels, then out into the unspeakable' squalors of the East End — Bow, Stepney, Whitechapel, Barking — she was thinking how strangely unromantic this honeymoon journey was contrasting it, in spite of herself, with that other southward journey in the Blue Train with Ledwyche. She didn’t love Ledwyche; she supposed she did love Cyril. And yet, when she came to think of it, how safe she had felt with the other — how many essential, though trivial, things they had had in common! Trivial? Were they so trivial after all? Weren’t they, in fact, the whole basic structure of her life, her birth, her breeding? With Ledwyche, she knew just exactly where she was, while' 'with this dark stranger. . . . It came as a shock to her to remember that she didn’t even know his name, nor he hers. That, to begin with, was enough to make the' whole adventure unreal, unsubstantial, uncertain. Yet, hadn’t they agreed — oh, long ago! — that it was this very circumstance that made the affair so romantically thrilling? Eros and Psyche! . . . To question the illusion was to shatter it. And yet she knew nothing about him, nothing whatever, except that they shared a few tastes and theories. Why, for all she knew, he might even be a criminal, a murderer! “Well, here I am,” she thought. “Ca y est! I’ve got to go through with it.” And of course, to be logical, this journey had not begun at Liverpool Street that morning; it had begun at the moment when Ledwyche had shown her into the train at Cannes. It would end, God knew how, in some sordid lodging in Southend. “I’m a free woman,” she told herself. “Well, this is the price of freedom.

Dickens’s American Notes was regarded as an insult by most Americans in part because he chose to examine and criticize at length slavery, the prison system, and even an asylum for the mentally ill, which he, not always a reliable reporter, identified as being “on Long Island, or Rhode Island: I forget which.” He said that American men spit and that they pirated books, both of which were true. He thought the press was abominable and the prairie not as good as Salisbury Plain and also lacking a Stonehenge. But the ill-feelings of Americans may also in part stem from what the Frenchman Alexis de Tocqueville, in probably the best of the nineteenth-century European books on America, Democracy in America, identified as an American trait: an unyielding resentment of any criticism from abroad. American Notes, in fact, has many favorable things to say about New York. For that matter Fanny Trollope loved New York, was one of the first to declare it the leading American city, and found it pleasantly different from the rest of America: New York, indeed, appeared to us, even when we saw it by a soberer light, a lovely and a noble city. To us who had been so long traveling through half-cleared forests, and sojourning among an “I’m-as-good-as-you” population, it seemed, perhaps, more beautiful, more splendid, and more refined than it might have done, had we arrived there directly from London; but making every allowance for this, I must still declare that I think New York one of the finest cities I ever saw, and as much superior to every other in the Union, (Philadelphia not excepted,) as London to Liverpool, or Paris to Rouen.

Religion is not necessarily related only to what we think of as religious things or practices, like attending a rite in a temple, performing practices in order to attain certain goods, or following certain codes of conduct based on a particular set of beliefs or even ideas of the supernatural. It is just as easily identified with something like the unfailing love for FC Barcelona or Liverpool FC and the ineffable (absolutely religious) experience of living and dying together, through songs, food, and tears, in a match against their rivals from times immemorial (Real Madrid or Manchester United). Another glorious religious experience could be watching Roger Federer move on a Wimbledon court.26

The monastic culture of the north was practically blotted out by the heathen Danes, and they brought to an end the Angle Kingdoms of Northumbria, Mercia, and East Anglia. They overran and occupied the entire north and east of England. But the Kingdom of Wessex in the southwest, which had already become the strongest Anglo-Saxon state under Egbert, was left to struggle successfully against the Danes under its gallant, learned, and truly Christian king, Alfred the Great. Alfred, who ruled from 871 to 901, united all the rest of England against the Danes, and reorganized the Saxon army and revived the navy. He drove the Danes out of Wessex and recovered London. A line drawn approximately from London to modern Liverpool was made the frontier between the West Saxon Kingdom and the Danelaw, as the territory where Danish customs and institutions prevailed was called. Under Alfred’s son and grandsons the Danelaw was gradually reconquered and all England united under one ruler. The Danes had done at least the one service of obliterating the petty kingdoms in the territory they had occupied; and Kent, Sussex, and a part of Mercia had forgotten their differences and accepted a West Saxon king in order to escape the Danes. The Danes also brought England into closer trade relations with the rest of Europe than before, and were more inclined to town life than the country-loving Anglo-Saxons. Their armor was a military improvement; and they brought in a large class of freemen to a land where, for a century or two before, the weak had been falling under the domination of the strong.

I guess I was lucky I didn't drown, or smother in the thick, black, icy mud that the river left behind in its slow withdrawal back within its banks. I didn't feel lucky. When I regained consciousness, my head and ribs winning the battle with the rest of my body for sharp, almost unbearable pain, my first thought was Chrissy. Chrissy, pulled away from me by the merciless power of the water. Chrissy, lost somewhere, maybe injured, calling for me and I wasn't there for her. Chrissy, beautiful, wonderful Chrissy, quite probably lying in the mud, dead! My scream of anguish, of pain and loss, echoed through the empty Liverpool streets. There was no shame or embarrassment in that shout, that bellow of emotion. I had lost the woman I loved. Nothing I’d ever felt compared to the agony, the gut-wrenching loss of that moment. I cried. I sat there in the middle of a street I didn't recognise, not knowing how far the wave had carried me, and cried.

current birth rate in Liverpool, the provision of a maternity unit cannot wait. They are calling it a baby boom apparently, and you have it bad

busy with people getting off the boat, is it? It’s all one-way.’ Bee reached up to take the glass of whiskey Paddy was holding out to her. ‘I’ll be back,’ she said, but in her mind she was asking herself when. Captain Bob had secured a job as a captain, meeting the cargo ships and piloting them down the Mersey into the port of Liverpool, from where they had waited, out on the bar. He had already travelled to Liverpool and found them a house close to the docks. ‘It has a kitchen,’ he’d said to Bee. ‘The range is still there, but it was damaged in the war, and there’s a new gas cooker fitted next to it.’ Bee’s mouth had dropped. ‘A gas cooker? I have no idea how to use one of those. I’ll be sticking to the fire.’ Bob had just smiled at her indulgently. He understood why the traffic from Dublin was one-way. Bee would soon discover how quickly women who left the west coast of Ireland adapted from the life their ancestors had lived for hundreds of years to all the mod cons England and America had to offer. ‘Mammy!’ Ciaran shouted from the door. Bob and Bee swivelled round in their chairs as Ciaran came in, followed by Michael, who was carrying Finnbar in his arms and had Mary Kate at his side, holding his hand. ‘God love you, come here,’ said Bee to Mary Kate, who ran over to her and allowed her to pull her up onto her knee. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’ Captain Bob and Michael exchanged

My mind is like an Asian map; many places are covered with forests, deserts, swamps; in other words, it is filled with question marks.

It means that it is necessary to run away from men in order to love them.

Hundreds of wild dogs inside me were transformed into cute birds and they are singing now maybe, but still there are some wild dogs there.

Leo died also; one in ten of my life, half of my dreams, and all of my love were entombed together with him.

I'm not away from home, home is away from me.

I am neither in time nor out of time.

A person who lived in the past and who remembers later are not the same.

I should have preferred the happiness I earned without you to the happiness I would have with you.

I have fed my troubles just like that a tree feeds woodworm.

The obstacles are the creepy things that you see when you give up keeping your eyes on the road.

It's [Loneliness] not a patient's escape, but escape from patients.

A dew drops on the grass in the quietest time of the night.

A dew drops on the grass in the quietest time of the night just like A genius emerges when he is alone.

Loneliness is the way to your own soul.

Do not go too far from the port of loneliness, even if you are involved in crowds.

It [Loneliness] is a suitable environment where diseases and perfection can be produced.

Lovers among people who do not know love are also seen as sick or mad.

Every lover wings up and flies as high as eyes can not see her. And the winged creatures seem strange and funny for non-winged creepers who do not know how to fly.

Whatever you go to the loneliness, it grows inside.

I advise you not to carry whatever you escape from with you as a suitcase.

I really lived (..) Death seems to me to be a sunset glow at the end of a beautiful day.

I can even say I desire death now because the friends we started to live with have left from this world one by one.

When people satisfied with what they lived, death is no longer horrible.

..all of us are surrounded by many beauties that we don’t notice in daily life..

As a matter of fact, it seems to me that everyone is lonely, no matter how much they live together, it seems like everyone lonely in this world.

I want to peel off the shells of my soul and reach the essence of it.

Expressing emotions through words is something like filling the sea in a bottle.

If you call for help, something as big as the ocean comes to your assistance: silence.

If a man wants to announce the oppression that he was exposed to, he should not talk, instead, he must keep silent.

Silence is a sea whereas words are a river.

They are [words] bad painters who work for hours and capable of painting only a sketch.

Maybe she was escaping from the chaos of the words to the cosmos of silence.

I need young people who are ashamed of the current situation of the team.

Failure learned lessons from is a success.

We are defeated against our weaknesses, not the difficulties.

Victory is the sovereign remedy.

A love that does not pass an examination is a flash in the pan.

Accompanied by live music food is an insult to both musician and restaurant’s chef.

Drunkness is a magical glass that shows the mud you live in like a palace.

If you're going to sacrifice yourself, find something worthwhile.

After a wall is built, the master mason is forgotten.

-But how can I cheer up now? I mean, nothing comes of nothing. -Stop meditating on your problems, things work themselves out and you become happy automatically.

-There is something more important than happiness -What is that? -Cheer.

When the sun goes down, all women become beautiful.

Without thinking, they only live with their desires and they sleep peacefully in their feather bed of habits.

For an unhappy man, mind is a ballast; he survives when he gets rid of it.

Doesn’t the whole world run towards drunkenness anyway? Don’t they drink alcohol to get rid of their minds that look like a decayed tooth that causes persistent pain?

The desert around him was completed. He was already untamed, now he became wild.

Do you want to be loved, Mr perfect? Be lovable first

A little mistake that you make today will lead you to make the bigger mistake tomorrow.

You need a shock anymore, not a treatment.

A man looks like a horse cart. His body is the cart itself, the mind is rider, and the emotions are horses. For an ordinary man, a rider drives the horse cart, whereas horses drive yours. You are ruled by your emotions and your emotions are all over the place and dispersed.

Your anger against a person you did not like probably would thus be very exaggerated.

A bronze coin you have not is more attractive than a gold coin you have for people like you. That's why loves ends when couples get married.

..like every powerful man, you tend not to obey the existing rules.

You are fall in love with a feeling composed when you rule over me, not to me.

You do not love me, you really love yourself through me.

You do not really love me; instead, You love the feelings that emerge in your soul when you are with me.

My grandma used to tell me that: “Animals are born as animals but humans are not. A human being is something adventitious and affection is necessary to be a human being. Whoever has a feeling of affection, he is a good human. Find them and make friends with them

Everyone was criticizing Leo, in other words, the enemy was nameless.

Concerning about someone else is to open the doors of our dungeon.

When you financially supported the orphanage and loved the orphans, you enriched yourself.

I bought this medicine from the pharmacy at the corner; its name is memory- wiper. When you get one of these pills, you forget everything, the pharmacist said so.