Nk Love Quotes

In a child's eyes, a mother is a goddess. She can be glorious or terrible, benevolent or filled with wrath, but she commands love either way. I am convinced that this is the greatest power in the universe.

I think,” Hoa says slowly, “that if you love someone, you don’t get to choose how they love you back.

But love like that doesn't just disappear, does it? No matter how powerful the hate, there is always a little love left, underneath. Yes. Horrible, isn't it?

Love betrayed has an entirely different sound from hatred outright.

The priest's lesson: beware the Nightlord, for his pleasure is a mortal's doom. My grandmother's lesson: beware love, especially with the wrong man.

He pretends to be less special than he is, because the world has punished him for loving himself.

When the world is hard, love must be harder still.

You pretended to hate him because you were a coward. But you eventually loved him, and he is a part of you now, because you have since grown brave.

Inevitable is not the same as immediate, Sieh--and love does not mandate forgiveness.

Of course I was enough, because he loved me. That was the whole point.

This is a terrible thing that she is saying. It is a terrible thing that she loves herself.

Love is no inoculation against murder.

If she hurts him because she loves him, is that still hurt? If she hurts him a lot now so that he will hurt less later, does that make her a terrible person? [...] Is that not how love should work?

My mum and I have an incredible friendship now after a mixture of pain, honesty, unconditional love and a long break from each other

Time grows short, my love. Let’s end with the beginning of the world, shall we? Yes. We shall.

So there was love, once. More than love. And now there is more than hate. Mortals have no words for what we gods feel. Gods have no words for such things. But love like that doesn't just disappear, does it? No matter how powerful the hate, there is always love left, underneath. Horrible, isn't it?

Real gods aren’t what most of you Christians think of as gods. Gods are people. Sometimes dead people, sometimes still alive. Sometimes never lived.” She shrugs. “They do jobs—bring fortune, look after people, make sure the world works as it should. They fall in love. Have babies. Fight. Die.” She shrugs. “It’s duty. It’s normal. Get over it.

And what do they even call this? It's not a threesome, or a love triangle. It's a two-and-a-half-some, an affection dihedron.

Real love lasts years. It causes pain, and endures through it.

beware love, especially the wrong man

In a child’s eyes, a mother is a goddess. She can be glorious or terrible, benevolent or filled with wrath, but she commands love either way.

I don't want love to destroy me like it did my family

If we are to find contentment in the midst of trial and uncertainty, we must accept our situation as being purposely allowed into our lives by a personal and loving God.

You keep thinking about Alabaster, too, though. Is this grief? You hated him, loved him, missed him for years, made yourself forget him, found him again, loved him again, killed him. The grief does not feel like what you feel about Uche, or Corundum, or Innon; those are rents in your soul that still seep blood. The loss of Alabaster is simply... a thinning of who you are.

Ah, my love. An apocalypse is a relative thing, isn’t it?

Embrace love while you have it, priest--from whichever direction it comes, proper or improper, for however long it lasts. Because it always, always comes to an end.

The people we love are the ones who hurt us the most, after all.

I have decided to live,” he said quietly. That, too, was obvious from the way he’d changed in the past year. I felt his gaze as he spoke, heavier than usual along my skin. He had been my friend, and now offered more. Was willing to try more. But I knew: he was not the sort of man who loved easily, or casually. If I wanted him, I would have all of him, and he wanted all of me. All or nothing; that was as fundamental to his nature as light itself. I tried to joke. “It took you a year to decide that?” “Ten, yes,” Shiny replied. “This last year was for you to decide.

...a marriage with Christ at the center of it pulls you right out of yourself. It teaches each partner, the husband and the wife, to forget about self for a while in care and sacrifice for the other. We come to ourselves by losing ourselves.

There was nothing we mortals would not do when it came to protecting our loved ones.

She is such a good child, at her core. Don't be angry with her. She can only make choices within the limited set of her experiences, and it isn't her fault that so many of those experiences have been terrible. Marvel, instead, at how easily she loves, how thoroughly. Love enough to change the world! She learned how to love like this from somewhere.

You’re my redemption, Nassun. You are all the children I should have loved and protected, even from myself. And if it will bring you peace…” He kisses her forehead. “Then I shall be your Guardian till the world burns, my little one.

I'm not a slut, I just love, love...P!nk.

Grief sounds like a bad thing,” I said, frowning. “Why don’t you and Naha and Mama get rid of it?” “That would require removing love from existence.

ThaNk you for seeing museums in me where i saw empty hallways

The quality of the light through the amethyst, as the sun slants toward setting, stirs a feeling of longing and relief in me that I will one day learn is called homesickness.

That taste was something I had little experience with, yet I knew it the way an infant knows love, or an animal knows fear. Jealous, even between father and son, is a fact of nature.

I have a son of my flesh already, and I have a woman who loves me and wants me, but they’re both half-wild. They flee into the desert whenever I try to love them back. If I were a less confident man, I might become concerned.

(Schaffa saw her hand on the child's face, covering mouth and nose, pressing. Incomprehensible. Did she not know that Schaffa would love her son as he loved her? He would lay the boy down gently, so gently, in the wire chair.)

It was simply that I knew, or had known, precisely why he did not love all his children equally. Differentiation, variation, appreciation of the unique: this was part of what he was. His children were not the same, so his feelings toward each were not the same. He loved us all, but differently. And because he did this, because he did not pretend that love was fair or equal, mortals could mate for an afternoon or for the rest of their lives. Mothers could tell their twins or triplets apart. Children could have crushes and outgrow them; elders could remain devoted to their spouses long after beauty had gone. The mortal heart was fickle. Naha made it so. And because of this, they were free to love as they wished, and not solely by the dictates of instinct or power or tradition.

I definitely haven’t been in the best place while working on this book, but I can say this much: Where there is pain in this book, it is real pain; where there is anger, it is real anger; where there is love, it is real love. You’ve been taking this journey with me, and you’re always going to get the best of what I’ve got. That’s what my mother would want.

It is the lies he's telling her - as he has been, Nassun understands suddenly, her whole life - that really break her heart. He's said that he loves her, after all, but that obviously isn't true. He cannot love an orogene, and that is what she is. He cannot be an orogene's father, and that is why he constantly demands she be something other than what she is.

But without love of the self, others' love will never be enough

love does not mandate forgiveness.

It was like life without breathing, or friendship without love; what was the point?

She looked at him and he gazed back. Unconditional love: childhood´s greatest magic.

Why do I even love him anymore? Nassun finds herself thinking as she stares at her father.

I have decided that I am in love, but love is a painful hotspot roil beneath the surface of me in a place where once there was stability, and I do not like it.

I think," how says slowly, "that if you love someone, you don't get to choose how they love you back.

I have hated this city. I have loved this city. I will fight for this city until it won't have me anymore. This is my homage to the city. Hope I got it right.

Her family had shown her that love is a lie. It isn't stone-solid; instead it bends and crumbles away, weak as rusty metal.

Women are goddesses, like unto Hananja Herself. They birth and shape the dreamers of the world. Love and fear them. (Wisdom)

When we love, we open ourselves to the possibility of hurt.

No one can serve two masters. Either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and Money” (Matthew 6:24).

She knows in this moment that he will never falter, never not be there when she needs him, never devolve into a mere fallible human being, And she loves him more than life for his strength.

You can choose to be free of the love of money. You can be in control of your possessions rather than be controlled by what you have and what you want. It’s a secret choice of the heart between God and you.

* * * In a child’s eyes, a mother is a goddess. She can be glorious or terrible, benevolent or filled with wrath, but she commands love either way. I am convinced that this is the greatest power in the universe.

I don’t doubt your love,” she said. “You are a man made for love, I think. Your eyes make me want to die, there’s so much love in them. But it isn’t real. Real love lasts years. It causes pain, and endures through it.

I liked that he lost control, dangerous though it was. I liked knowing I could give him that much pleasure. He was one of the younger godlings, but he had still lived millennia to my decades, and sometimes I worried that I wasn't enough for him. On nights like this, though, as he wept and groaned and strained against me, and scintillated like diamond when the moment struck, I knew that was a silly fear. Of course I was enough, because he loved me. That was the whole point.

We affirm that God is love, but that love isn’t true for us until we personalize it in our walk with Him. God gave His life for us as proof of His love for us. You are His child. He would do anything for you. Faith in Him is so much easier when you have the confident assurance that He loves you!

She is such a good child at her core. Don't be angry with her, she can only make choices within the limited set of her experiences. And it isn't her fault that so many of those experiences have been terrible. Marvel instead at how easily she loves, how thoroughly. Love enough to change the world. She learned how to love like this from somewhere.

[author quoting from his journal entry] "To feel safe is to stop living in my head and sink down into my heart and feel liked and accepted...not having to hide anymore and distract myself with books, television, movies, ice cream, shallow conversation...staying in the present moment and not escaping into the past or projecting into the future, alert and attentive to the now...feeling relaxed and not nervous or jittery...no need to impress or dazzle others or draw attention to myself...Unselfconscious, a new way of being with myself, a new way of being in the world...calm, unafraid, no anxiety about what's going to happen next...loved and valued...just being together as an end in itself." (p. 31)

You should know, Damaya, how lucky you are: It’s common for an orogene to discover themselves by killing a family member or friend. The people we love are the ones who hurt us the most, after all.

She has seen him fight his own brutal nature, and the Earth itself, in order to be the parent she needs. He has helped her learn to love herself for what she is.

What comes into our minds when we think about God is the most important thing about us.' A. W. Tozer wrote that, talking about how people project their opinions about God onto the world. He was asking those of us who believe in God- which is most of us - what God it is we believe in. Good question. ...we project onto God our worst attitudes and feelings about ourselves. As someone famously remarked, 'God made us in his own image and we have more than returned the compliment.' If we feel hatred for ourselves, it only makes sense that God hates us. Right? No, not so much. It's no good assuming God feels about us the way we feel about ourselves intensely and freely with complete wisdom and never-ending compassion. If the Christian story is true, the God who shows his love for us everywhere, in everything, expresses that love completely and finally in what Jesus did for us. Deal done -- can't add to, can't subtract from it. Any questions?"(pp. 20-21)

Julian of Norwich...wrote: 'Some of us believe that God is almighty and can do everything; and that he is all-wise and may do everything; but that he is all-love and will do everything -- there we draw back. As I see it, this ignorance is the greatest of all hindrances to God's lovers.' Where do we thing we are going when we draw back from God? The tiny gods we worship when we draw back from the true God are idols we've made to look just like us. It takes a profound conversion to accept that God is relentlessly tender and compassionate toward us just as we are - and not in spite of our sins and faults, but in them and through them. As Anne Lamott sees it, 'The secret is that God loves us exactly the way we are and that he loves us too much to let us stay like this..." (p. 21)

Enefa had also given them dreams to teach them about themselves and their universe. Few of them ever listened to the lessons—a total waste of creation in my eyes—but thanks to that, I would have to endure these mind-farts every time I slept. Lovely.

only people who actually love New York, versus those merely occupying and exploiting it, should dictate what it is and becomes.

The priests’ lesson: beware the Nightlord, for his pleasure is a mortal’s doom. My grandmother’s lesson: beware love, especially with the wrong man.

But without love of the self, others’ love will never be enough.

Padmini smiles shakily. “It touched me as everything came apart. It thanked me. ‘How nice to be loved again,’ it said.” She shakes her head, on the brink of tears. “All that time…” She covers her mouth. Veneza comes over to give her a hug.

It’s safe to love you. You won’t fail me. You won’t die. And I know the price up front.

This is a terrible thing that she is saying. It is a terrible thing that she loves herself,

...she, Mrs. Ph(i)Nk₀, she who in the midst of our closed petty world had been capable of a generous impulse, 'Boys, the tagliatelle I would make for you!', a true outburst of general love, initiating at the same moment the concept of space and, properly speaking, space itself, and time, and universal gravitation, and the gravitating universe, making possible billions and billions of suns, and of planets, and fields of wheat, and Mrs. Ph(i)Nk₀s scattered through the continents of the planets, kneading with floury, oil-shiny, generous arms, and she lost at that very moment, and we, mourning her loss.

Cannot a human man love his father, yet not believe he is a good person?

Now you might finally be able to envision a world where people have learned to love, as they learned in our world to hate. Perhaps you will speak of Um-Helat to others, and spread the notion farther still, like joyous birds migrating on trade winds. It’s possible. Everyone—even the poor, even the lazy, even the undesirable—can matter. Do you see how just the idea of this provokes utter rage in some? That is the infection defending itself . . . because if enough of us believe a thing is possible, then it becomes so.

Some part of me agreed with Viraine: to love such a creature was beyond foolish edging into suicidal. Yet I did.

men in love are not always considerate or wise.

I used to think I was hallucinating her.” Yes, well. “And she doesn’t tell you anything?” “She just says she’s here for me. I can’t decide whether it’s a supportive statement—you know, ‘I’m here for you, ‘Baster, I’ll always love you, never mind that I’m a living statue that only looks like a pretty woman, I’ve got your back’—or something more sinister.

Then hold me close, Jake, and kiss me like I mean the world to you

The people we love are the ones who hurt us most, after all.

I never saw Kelenli, or her child, again. Too ashamed of the monster I’d become, I never sought them out. She lived though. Now and again I heard the grind and grumble of her stone voice, and those of her several children as they were born. They were not wholly alone;

and men in love are not always considerate or wise.

she begins to understand what it is that the older orogenes display: control. They have mastered their power. No ringed orogene would ice the courtyard just because some boy shoved her. None of these sleek, black-clad professionals would bat so much as an eyelash at either a strong earthshake, or a family’s rejection. They know what they are, and they have accepted all that means, and they fear nothing—not the stills, not themselves, not even Old Man Earth. If to achieve this Damaya must endure a few broken bones, or a few years in a place where no one loves or even likes her, that is a small price to pay.

But when he spoke, I knew: whatever Shiny had done, it had been truly terrible, because Sieh’s hate had once been love. Love betrayed has an entirely different sound from hatred outright.

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Love is the most powerful weapon in the world. It makes brothers of enemies. It makes even the divine come to the aid of mortals.

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I still have love, though. Take it, daughter of Kalawe. As much as you need.” There will never be enough, she thought bitterly, and let the grief close about her like a fist.

Love enough to change the world!

The people we love are the ones who hurt us the most, after