Oxymoron Love Quotes

A Manifesto for Introverts 1. There's a word for 'people who are in their heads too much': thinkers. 2. Solitude is a catalyst for innovation. 3. The next generation of quiet kids can and must be raised to know their own strengths. 4. Sometimes it helps to be a pretend extrovert. There will always be time to be quiet later. 5. But in the long run, staying true to your temperament is key to finding work you love and work that matters. 6. One genuine new relationship is worth a fistful of business cards. 7. It's OK to cross the street to avoid making small talk. 8. 'Quiet leadership' is not an oxymoron. 9. Love is essential; gregariousness is optional. 10. 'In a gentle way, you can shake the world.' -Mahatma Gandhi

In a society... so madly in love with oxymoron's... ask yourself this... ...when was the last time you ever bought anything for free?

It seems almost oxymoronic to believe that this new idealism has led to a new pessimism about marriage, but that is exactly what has happened. In generations past there was far less talk about "compatibility" and finding the ideal soul mate. Today we are looking for someone who accepts us as we are and fulfills our desires, and this creates an unrealistic set of expectations that frustrates both the searchers and the searched for.

I mean she doesn’t… understand the things…” No, he knew that wasn’t true. He knew she understood. Too much maybe. “I don’t want her in my shit, Mom.” “Oh honey, that’s too fucking bad,” she said matter-of-factly. “She’s not going anywhere, you can hang that up. And that woman loves you. I see it and I thank God for that! And do you know why?” “No, I don’t know why. It’s a mystery to me why—a fucking… oxymoron.” “Because she sees the good man in you, baby!” she squealed. “There is no good man in me,” he argued, his frustration mounting. “You’re stupid if you think you’ll convince her or me of that.

What is conditional love? Conditional love is an oxymoron. Conditional love is an imposter of love. Conditional love is something other than love, because you cannot conditionalize the un-conditional.

Did you know that you can be killed by a benign tumor? Imagine that news headline: Native American poet killed by oxymoron.

Honest dishonesty. That’s quite the oxymoron – but I like the originality that you’ve brought to bear in the art of rationalization. Maybe you should consider becoming a lawyer,” he added jokingly.

Doesn't an Indian tribe finally surrender to colonization by becoming as capitalistic as our conquerors? Isn't indigenous economic sovereignty one of the sneakiest damn oxymorons of all time?

The human race is one of the few creatures whom can cry tears. If you look at us we are running around like small insects—all submerged in our own important errands. Everyone blind of whats going on underneath their own noses. We can be compassionate as well as evil. We can love and we can destroy. I will always wonder how the same creature can do both. Oxymoron.” Everything Changes, Always.

A person who can't travel isn't a monster." "Is that what you say about Olivers who can't?" "An Oliver who can't travel is an oxymoron.

Love, the phenomenal act of canceling self in favor of the very same self.

I maintain that love can’t simultaneously be an accident and a premeditated act, yet we treat it as if it is. It’s a necessary fiction, love’s oxymoronic nature. Love’s a contranym as sharp as “cleave” and twice as dangerous.

Even the word 'unconditional' is superfluous, because love, by its true definition, is unconditional. 'Conditional love' is an oxymoron -- a contradiction in terms. As soon as we put a condition on love, it become something else entirely.... unconditional love is a state of being, not a emotion. It means it has no opposite. Human love is an emotion, and as with all other emotions, it's part of duality. An opposite emotion, such as fear or hate, balances it out. But unconditional love just IS. It's not one side of the coin -- it's the WHOLE coin.

An ironic religion -- one that never claims to be absolutely true but only professes to be relatively beautiful, and never promises salvation but only proposes it as a salubrious idea. A century ago there were people who thought art was the thing that could fuse the terms of this seemingly insuperable oxymoron, and no doubt art is part of the formula. But maybe consumerism also has something to teach us about forging an ironic religion -- a lesson about learning to choose, about learning the power and consequences, for good or ill, of our ever-expanding palette of choices. Perhaps . . . the day will come when the true ironic religion is found, the day when humanity is filled with enough love and imagination and responsibility to become its own god and make a paradise of its world, a paradise of all the right choices.

One of the biggest oxymorons is the term “self-made” man or woman. No man or woman ever “made” him- or herself. The psalmist understood this when he wrote, “It is [God] who has made us, and not we ourselves” (Psalm 100:3, NKJV). I also love what he goes on to say at the end of the verse: “We are His people, and the sheep of His pasture.

...one of the key psychological characteristics of the Tea Party is its oxymoronic love of authority figures coupled with a narcissistic celebration of its own “revolutionary” defiance. It’s this psychic weakness that allows this segment of the population to be manipulated by the likes of Sarah Palin and Glenn Beck. The advantage is that their willingness to take orders has allowed them to organize effectively (try getting one hundred progressives at a meeting focused on anything). The downside is, they see absolutely nothing weird in launching a revolution based upon the ravings of a guy who’s basically a half-baked PR stooge shoveling propaganda coal for bloodsucking transnational behemoths like JPMorgan Chase and Goldman Sachs.

There's a FEW THINGS you need to get STRAIGHT about being GAY..." "That's an OXYmoron." "You'll be an OXYmoron if you don't listen. GAY men SUCK and FUCK. They don't go around falling in LOVE. At least not with every TOM, DICK and HARRY.

She should have been used to disappointment by now, but pessimism wasn’t normally her bag. Lisa would say Sami was a discouraged optimist. An oxymoron for sure.

The two terms are mutually exclusive. Like military intelligence. An oxymoron, emphasis on moron.

sounded like a study of contrasts, or an oxymoron.   How could death spawn something as life-affirming as true love?  Hannah Montgomery wasn’t

What a joke. Yusuf hasn’t worked a day in the real world. He doesn’t know squat! Yeah, go ahead Yusi,” he said to the air mockingly, “try your little soft-pop stuff on the union. Yeah, that’ll work. And on the terrorists. And on Cory too. Sure, they’ll all just roll over and pant happily after receiving a little of your Middle Eastern love.” He laughed at the oxymoronic ring to this and then shook his head, half out of anger, half out of disgust. “What a waste. This whole thing is a waste.

What about you?” I ask. “Well, I’m solo poly,” he answers. “What does that mean?” It sounds like an oxymoron to me, but I’m trying to keep an open mind. “It means I’m my own primary relationship. So I don’t intend to get married, or even for my romantic relationships to last forever. But that doesn’t mean I don’t take relationships seriously.” I don’t doubt him. He’s looking at me with a steadiness that can only be described as, well, serious. “It’s like having more than one close friend—people love their friends, but they don’t need a legal document forcing them to commit to their friends for life. And nobody would say, ‘I can’t believe you’ve been seeing other friends.’ You know what I mean?

As I see it, a lukewarm Christian is an oxymoron; there’s no such thing. To put it plainly, churchgoers who are “lukewarm” are not Christians. We will not see them in heaven.

Most of us love a good oxymoron. Expressions like the living dead and an estimated guess shouldn’t make any sense, but they do. One of the newer implausible combinations of words is toxic positivity. If you’re living, you aren’t dead. So if something is positive, how can it be toxic?

You know, I used to think the term falling in love was an oxymoron. It should be rising, right? Love is supposed to make you feel like you're on top of the world. But maybe that phrase is so popular because actually making it work is rare. Everyone else just crashes at the end of it.

Curled time It was the moment of last reckoning, The last moment for time and life as well, Because for long life had been meandering, Along the highways of time, until they all crashed and fell, They fell into the self terminating moments of time, For time no longer found a reason to tarry in this world, It had lost its melody, its symphony, and its every happy rhyme, Thus forcing time to create moments that always flowed in formations curled, Always moving back to where they began, Thereby cancelling every prospect of future, With future dead, the present too died and moments of time no longer ran, Because there was no present to stand on, no future to go to, and ah the time’s torture, To live in this curled formation, Where every moment ended the moment it began, Time existed but it had lost its original sensation, Now that present didn't exist , future had no existence at all; I wondered whose was this plan, Not the Sky, not the Earth, not the Sun and not at all the Moon, They all existed in their orbits like before, So who could be this senseless goon, Who forced time to lead a curled path, where only past existed now and rest it was forced to ignore, Life existed like a past memory, Where nothing new took place, It was like a devil’s ceremony, Whee the guest of honour was expected to be the grace, And can there be a worst oxymoron than this, Where the devil romances the grace, And when the devil approached her with the desire to kiss, Grace fled into the curled formation of time and thus began the eternal race, Where grace is at the front tip of these curled moments of time, The hungry Devil is chasing her in the last moment riding this curl, Grace who is keen not to commit this crime, Keeps running, as if on the fast moving rollet of life it were a forcefully cast pearl, Where the pearl wants to stop, to feel the moments passing by, But the rollet of life moves relentlessly in the time’s curl, And the pearl turns dizzy when the speed is too high, But the thought about the devil forces it to stay within this endless whirl.

You know, I used to think the term falling in love was an oxymoron. It should be rising, right? Love is supposed to make you feel like you’re on top of the world. But maybe that phrase is so popular because actually making it work is rare. Everyone else just crashes at the end of it.

But, regardless of gender, the writer must write about “love…love which is our fate, [a] twisted thing, tortuous, delicate, eager, insatiable, the best, and worst thing, the junction point between everything and nothing, the oxymoronic knot of all existence, love which makes cattle meat of us

I maintain that love can't simultaneously be an accident and a premeditated act, yet we treat it as if it is. It's a necessary fiction, love's oxymoronic nature.