Riverside Love Quotes

I give you now Professor Twist The conscientious scientist. Trustees exclaimed, “He never bungles” And sent him off to distant jungles. Camped on a tropic riverside One day he missed his lovely bride. She had, the guide informed him later, Been eaten by an alligator. Professor Twist could not but smile. You mean,” he said “a crocodile.!

Love is a miracle, not a salvation.

What was it about scholarship and learning, he wondered, that seemed to wither the hearts of University men, leaving them incapable of loving anything as imperfect and fallible as an actual human being?

He felt a happiness stirring deep inside him, shining a light into recesses of his soul that had long been devoured by darkness.

There's something very enticing about an empty bench under a tree. And if it's facing a river, that's the bench for me.

David: And you think it can just evaporate? Even if at one time they loved one another? Marx: That's one of the sad truths of existence. Nothing in this world is permanent. Even the characters created by the great Shakespeare will, in millions of years, cease to exist—when the universe runs its course and the lights go out.

Loving you was the easiest thing I’ve ever done,” he says. The easiest thing.

He hath considered shortly, in a clause The trespas of hem bothe, and eek the cause, And althogh that his ire hir gilt accused, Yet in his resoun he hem bothe excused, As thus: he thoghte wel that every man Wol helpe himself in love if that he kan, And eek delivere himself out of prisoun;

never-ending cycle of berating and hating myself inside my head on a daily basis. I just wish the voices in there would shut the fuck up.

Loving you fucking hurts. It hurts in the best way. Every time I look at you, it feels like my heart’s going to burst out of my chest. And fuck, I’d die without a single complaint if it meant that the last thing I ever saw was you.

Where are we?” she asked when I pulled into a parking lot. “The park.” “Isn’t it dangerous at night?” “Not here. Come on.” I pulled her out of her seat and grabbed a blanket from the trunk before trekking through the soft grass. “You always keep a blanket in your car?” “Yeah, for emergencies. Never know when you might need it. Food, water, first-aid kit, too.” “Oh!” she grunted and caught my arm as one of her heels pierced the soft dirt and sank. “You should take those off.” “And walk around barefoot? Hello? Ever heard of hookworms and tetanus?” “Ever heard of snapping your ankles as you fall flat on your face in the dark?” I asked as I squatted in front of her and slipped her foot out of the high heels. “What are you doing?” she gasped, tumbling forward and grabbing onto my shoulders for support. “Removing your obstacles.” She landed a bare foot on the grass as I undid the other shoe. “So now I get tetanus?” I looked up at her, my hands lightly stroking her ankles up to her calves. “You worry too much.” “It’s a real risk. Ask Preeti.” I stood slowly, moving up her body, and hovered above her. “How…how far are we walking?” she asked. “To the river.” “In the dark?” I nodded and handed her the shoes. “Took these off and you won’t even carry them?” “I’ll carry them,” I replied, swooped down, and threw her over the blanket on my shoulder. Liya yelped. “Put me down!” “So you can get tetanus?” I asked and walked toward the river. She laughed. “I hate you!” “You love it.” She slapped my butt and then poked her pointy elbows into my shoulder as she arched her back. “Enjoying the view of my backside from over there?” I slid my hand up the back of her thighs and tugged her dress down to keep her covered. “This isn’t so bad,” she said. “Oh, yeah?” “Yeah.” She slapped my butt again. “Giddyap!” “All right. You asked for it.” Her next words were swallowed up in a scream as I took off at a full sprint. She gripped my shirt, clutching for my waist, as the breeze broke around us. I ran the short distance to the riverside in no time, slowing only when the moonlit gleam on the water’s surface appeared. I placed Liya on the grass, but she swayed away. I grabbed her by the waist to steady her and chuckled. “Are you okay?” “You try doing that upside down.

Sleepwalking" I fell in love and I needed a roadmap To find out where you lived So excited now Sleepwalking, cuz I'm sleepwalking The white trash boys Listen to the headphones Blasting white noise In the convenience store parking lot I hung around there Wasting my time Hoping you'll stop by Cuz I'm sleepwalking, I'm sleepwalking A mutual friend's parents Left town for a week So we raided their liquor stash And walked down by the riverside Sleepwalking, cuz I'm sleepwalking

Stop and imagine for a minute. Think and imagine. Think and imagine a world where love is the way. Imagine our homes and families when love is the way. Imagine our neighborhoods and communities where love is the way. Imagine governments and nations where love is the way. Imagine business and commerce when love is the way. Imagine this tired old world when love is the way. When love is the way — unselfish, sacrificial, redemptive — when love is the way, then no child will go to bed hungry in this world ever again. When love is the way, we will let justice roll down like a mighty stream, and righteousness like an ever-flowing brook. When love is the way, poverty would become history. When love is the way, the earth will be a sanctuary. When love is the way, we will lay our swords and shields down by the riverside to study war no more. When love is the way, there’s plenty of room for all of God’s children. When love is the way, we actually treat each other, well, like we are actually family.

into the main part of the store. Off to get Kendal, I mouthed to Celine, and she nodded. I stepped out into the September afternoon. Behind me, Eighty-ninth Street stretched several blocks to Riverside Park, a favorite place of mine and Kendal’s. Just ahead the intersection at Broadway sparkled with a steady stream of cars and our neighboring retailers’ windows. A man walking his dog nodded a wordless hello, and a mom with a baby in a stroller bent to pop a pacifier back into her unhappy child’s mouth. A delivery truck double-parked and the car behind it honked its disproval. The air held only a hint that summer was waning. September used to be my favorite month. I liked the way it sweetly bade the summer pastels away and showered the Yard’s shelves with auburn, mocha, and every shade of red. September brought in the serious quilters, those who loved spending

Christmas In India Dim dawn behind the tamerisks -- the sky is saffron-yellow -- As the women in the village grind the corn, And the parrots seek the riverside, each calling to his fellow That the Day, the staring Easter Day is born. Oh the white dust on the highway! Oh the stenches in the byway! Oh the clammy fog that hovers And at Home they're making merry 'neath the white and scarlet berry -- What part have India's exiles in their mirth? Full day begind the tamarisks -- the sky is blue and staring -- As the cattle crawl afield beneath the yoke, And they bear One o'er the field-path, who is past all hope or caring, To the ghat below the curling wreaths of smoke. Call on Rama, going slowly, as ye bear a brother lowly -- Call on Rama -- he may hear, perhaps, your voice! With our hymn-books and our psalters we appeal to other altars, And to-day we bid "good Christian men rejoice!" High noon behind the tamarisks -- the sun is hot above us -- As at Home the Christmas Day is breaking wan. They will drink our healths at dinner -- those who tell us how they love us, And forget us till another year be gone! Oh the toil that knows no breaking! Oh the Heimweh, ceaseless, aching! Oh the black dividing Sea and alien Plain! Youth was cheap -- wherefore we sold it. Gold was good -- we hoped to hold it, And to-day we know the fulness of our gain. Grey dusk behind the tamarisks -- the parrots fly together -- As the sun is sinking slowly over Home; And his last ray seems to mock us shackled in a lifelong tether. That drags us back how'er so far we roam. Hard her service, poor her payment -- she is ancient, tattered raiment -- India, she the grim Stepmother of our kind. If a year of life be lent her, if her temple's shrine we enter, The door is hut -- we may not look behind. Black night behind the tamarisks -- the owls begin their chorus -- As the conches from the temple scream and bray. With the fruitless years behind us, and the hopeless years before us, Let us honor, O my brother, Christmas Day! Call a truce, then, to our labors -- let us feast with friends and neighbors, And be merry as the custom of our caste; For if "faint and forced the laughter," and if sadness follow after, We are richer by one mocking Christmas past.

Hold On" They hung a sign up in our town "If you live it up, you won't live it down" So she left Monte Rio, son Just like a bullet leaves a gun With her charcoal eyes and Monroe hips She went and took that California trip Oh, the moon was gold, her hair like wind Said, "don't look back, just come on, Jim" Oh, you got to hold on, hold on You gotta hold on Take my hand, I'm standing right here, you gotta hold on Well, he gave her a dimestore watch And a ring made from a spoon Everyone's looking for someone to blame When you share my bed, you share my name Well, go ahead and call the cops You don't meet nice girls in coffee shops She said, "baby, I still love you" Sometimes there's nothin' left to do Oh, but you got to hold on, hold on Babe, you gotta hold on and take my hand I'm standing right here, you gotta hold on Well, God bless your crooked little heart St. Louis got the best of me I miss your broken China voice How I wish you were still here with me Oh, you build it up, you wreck it down Then you burn your mansion to the ground Oh, there's nothing left to keep you here But when you're falling behind in this big blue world Oh, you've got to hold on, hold on Babe, you gotta hold on Take my hand, I'm standing right here, you gotta hold on Down by the Riverside motel It's ten below and falling By a ninety-nine cent store She closed her eyes and started swaying But it's so hard to dance that way When it's cold and there's no music Oh, your old hometown's so far away But inside your head there's a record that's playing A song called "Hold On", hold on Babe, you gotta hold on Take my hand, I'm standing right there, you gotta hold on

Being a damp sort of place, weeds of all kinds flourished: all those plants which love water crowded round; giant dock, appearing not unlike the riverside plants of a tropical stream, with huge hairy columns for stalks as thick round as trees, with curious beetles and flies crawling about on the undersides of their green umbrella-like leaves, Fool’s Parsley, Bog Myrtle, Water Betony, Marsh Marigold, and huge buttercups.

I praise Thee for the desert road, And for the riverside; For all Thy goodness hath bestowed, And all Thy grace denied. I thank Thee for both smile and frown, And for the gain and loss; I praise Thee for the future crown And for the present cross. I thank Thee for both wings of love Which stirred my worldly nest; And for the stormy clouds which drove Me, trembling, to Thy breast.

She’s in trouble. I can feel it in the pricking of my skin and the ache in my bones,

But the owner knew them, and kissed them each on the cheek, even Rhysand. Well, except for Amren, whom the owner bowed to before she hustled back into her kitchen and bade us sit at the large table that was half in, half out of the open storefront. The starry night was crisp, the wind rustling the potted palms placed with loving care along the riverside walkway railing. No doubt spelled to keep from dying in the winter—just as the warmth of the restaurant kept the

Theme Song: Your Man – Down With Webster Bling Bling – ALTÉGO Let It All Go – Birdy & RHODES I Think You’re the Devil – Ellee Duke Legendary – Welshly Arms Wonderland – Taylor Swift Skin – Rihanna MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT – Elley Duhé Blue – Madison Beer Devil I Know – Allie X MONEY ON THE DASH – Elley Duhé & Whethan Way Down We Go – KALEO How Do I Say Goodbye – Dean Lewis Do Me – Kim Petras Crying On The Dancefloor – Sam Feldt, Jonas Blue, Endless Summer & Violet Days Wicked – GRANT Love and War – Fleurie Silence – Marshmello (feat. Khalid) Fire on Fire – Sam Smith

I’ll always crawl back to her. I’ll crawl to her on my knees across the broken shards of my heart. I’ll crawl to her when she’s thousands of miles away from me. I’ll crawl to her even if she never wants to see me again, because that’s the power she has over me. That’s the kind of love that possesses me. Unconditional, undying, unequivocal. I’m forever hers.

I’ve always loved when people aren’t afraid to talk about their passions. And something about the thought of always having a little piece of her when she’s away makes my heart swoon.  I don’t swoon, okay? No part of me has ever swooned. I brood. That’s it.

When my steady lips stretch over her trembling ones, love rattles inside my body like bottled lightning—frenetic and blinding, but in the best way possible. My skin sings under her buttery touch, and it’s in that moment that I realize I’d trade everything in the world to stay in her arms a little bit longer.

Gage, I love you,” I tell him before the tears start to repopulate on my waterline. “I love you so fucking much, Cali. More than you’ll ever know.” It’s never just a “you too” out of convenience with Gage. It’s never anything less than him hand-wrapping and gifting me the stars, the sun, and the moon. He didn’t take my broken pieces and cover up the cracks to magically fix me. He saw them, glued them back together, then let the light shine through those incredible fissures. He turned scars into stars. His lips are over mine in the blink of an eye, tasting and feeling like home. And when he pulls back just slightly, only allowing space to whisper to me, I know I’m going to crash right back into him. “And I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.

Don’t be afraid of the love you still feel. Real love—true love—is worth fighting for, no matter how scary it is,

He gets on his knees. His knees. “These flowers don’t even begin to scratch the surface to show how sorry I am. I want to earn your trust back if you’ll let me. If you want me to leave you alone, I’ll leave you alone. If you want me to prove my love for you, I’ll prove my love for you. I already bought you a nectarine orchard in South Africa, but I’ll buy you a vacation home out there, too. I’ll build you your own personal library, so you never run out of books. I’ll⁠—” Emotion garbles my words. “I forgive you.” And just like that, the war is over.

Loving you was the easiest thing I’ve ever done,” he says.

Stacks, when I first met you, I never thought I’d end up on one knee for you. I never thought I’d settle down with anyone, actually. Every moment we’ve spent together has been the best kind of ride. I never believed that I was going to find love, much less find the person I’d want to spend the rest of my life with. And it just so happened that I got lucky enough to find both in you,” he says, his voice laced with a tenderness warm enough to unfreeze an icy lake.  Tears rage behind my eyes, but I’m not sure if it’s because of his speech or an aftereffect of nearly choking to death.

Of course I’ll be your girlfriend.” Gage lights up like the city of Las Vegas at night, a gigantic, gum-showing smile pushing back his cheeks, dotting dimples, and forming complementary eye crinkles. He pumps his fist into the air. “You said yes! Oh my God. I can’t believe…” He stops himself after he notices the absolute bewilderment on my face, and then he clears his throat and lowers his arm. “I mean, I knew you were going to say yes.” “You’re an idiot,” I laugh, but the excitement in his voice is like a soothing balm on the scars of my heart. He’s the one shining halo of sunlight breaking through an everlasting tempest, allowing me a circle of dryness amongst an unrelenting downpour. “Yeah, but I’m your idiot now,” he emphasizes. “Hear that, everyone? Gage Arlington is officially off the market! And he’s in love with Calista Cadwell!

Star left defenseman for the NHL’s Riverside Reapers. One of my brother’s best friends. The guy I’m secretly in love with—the guy who looks at me like I’m his kid sister.

The truth is that I'm the one who needed saving and that's exactly what you did. And I love you for that.

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Gage—” “I don’t want to see you hurt yourself anymore. But I know that’s easier said than done, so I’ll be here to help you heal. I’ll be here to hold your hand when you feel like you want to harm yourself. I’ll be here to love you and your scars on the days that you can’t.

Blake Lost his temper. "But they didn't do anything to you, did they?" He inquired savagely. "When they heard your Southern accent and your Southern name, they put you in a cell to think over your poor taste in lovers, patted you on the head, and let you go. You loved this man, Tony, or at least you led us to believe you did. The honorable thing for you to do is hear what he has to say.

A kind of wonder takes Chaucer over as he pants up Fleet Street and past the walled orchards and gardens of this lovely riverside suburb for princes of kingdom and Church. This isn't mob action, not really, even if there were men back there shouting that they were off to break into Newgate Jail and set the prisoners free. It's something else. Something he's never seen, or imagined. These men don't loot. They aren't trying to get rich, or even just get fed. They're not remotely interested in picking up a few unconsidered trifles from the palaces they're passing, however lovely the houses are, however manicured the gardens. They're here to destroy. And they know their targets.

I could make it not matter.

Cutting through Temple Bar toward the river, they pass the cinema outside which Howard met Halley for the first time: this nugget of history he does not pass on to the boys. He remembers walking with her down to the riverside, but it’s only as they are crossing Ha’penny Bridge – the elderly construction seeming to sway beneath their impatient feet, the quays of the city stretching away on either side – that he remembers the museum was where she had been headed that day too, was where he had promised to take her, but never did, instead falling in love with her, leading her away into the backstreets of his life. Now he’s finally on his way there, but with twenty-six hormonal teenage boys instead of her. Nice job, Howard.

I swallowed. I didn’t agree with him at all. I knew love existed – because there was no other explanation for the way I felt about him. It wasn’t even a nice feeling most of the time. It was just painful and confusing and frustrating but I was damned sure it was love.

Martin Luther King Jr., on April 4, 1967, at the Riverside Church, he speaks out against the Vietnam War. People push back against King. They tell him he's not patriotic. In that speech, he says that there comes a time when silence is betrayal. He says he's about to say this criticism because he loves the country, not because he hates the country. He also, in the same speech, says America is the greatest purveyor of violence in the world. But he says it's going to be a bitter but beautiful struggle to transform America, because he says the goal of America is freedom. Now, that's perfect. That's brilliant. That's beautiful. He's telling us all the different sides of our country and he's inspiring us to do something about it - right? - but he's also not calling us villains. He's saying that we can actually transform and create and build this beloved community. But King wants us to tell the story of poor people, farm workers. He wants us to end militarization and materialism and racism. So what I think, again, I think everything comes down to storytellers and the story, everything. And I - and I'm serious about that. And so we need to tell ourselves a different story about America.

back, I would still be here. Love is a miracle, not a salvation. No one would save me, that I had to seek for myself. But I would find it. I had finally turned to face the hunters with their guns.

The road to vengeance is paved with purpose. Just like the road to hate is paved with nothing but destruction.

I no longer believe that people will treat you good just because you’re nice to them. I no longer believe that having a good heart is all it takes for people to treat you like you would treat them.

The world would be such an amazing place if we didn’t have to constantly deal with hate from other people toward us when we’re just trying to exist and not bother anyone.

People always say that in order to have a happy life, you need to make yourself happy by doing some self-healing and love yourself first. But none of them ever tell you how hard it is to try and heal the broken parts of you. They don’t tell you how hard it is to fall in love with all the parts of you that you hate. If you hate it so much, how are you supposed to love it in order to heal? Believe me, the road to self-love is a hard and ugly one when you have so many issues with yourself, along with mental issues with no one there to help you get through it. It always feels like you’re alone with no one to help guide you onto the right path again. I

I know they always say that you shouldn’t let the words of others define you, but it’s hard to not let their words slip inside your head and grow like a festering wound until you think that you’re nothing but what they call you. Speaking from experience, that is a sad fucking existence. No matter how hard you try to love yourself, you can’t. Their words have grown into something that love can’t make go away. I’m not sure the hate I feel in my soul would make the words disappear either.

Bullying fucking hurts you soul deep. If anyone ever tells you to get over it, then they’re just as fucking bad as the rest of them. They don’t understand the pain you feel. Every. Single. Day.

Beautiful beings always cause the most damage and oftentimes, you’re already in too deep to get away from being burned.

Alice could picture him standing in the doorway on Pomander, and remembered sometimes coming across him and her father smoking cigarettes on the corner of 96th Street and West End Avenue when she and some of her friends were climbing back up from Riverside Park. “He always had stuff like this. Was too trippy for me, usually, but sometimes, yeah. Sometimes we’d get so zonked and just sit in his apartment on Seventy-Ninth Street and listen to Love’s Forever Changes on vinyl.

Willoughby: My Darling Anne, There's a longer letter in the dresser drawer I've been writing for the last week or so, that one covers us, and my memories of us, and how much I've always loved you. This one just covers tonight, and more importantly, today. Tonight I have gone out to the horses to end it. I cannot say sorry for the act itself, although I know for a short time you will be angry at me, or even hate me for it. Please don't. This is not a case of, I came in this world alone and I'm goin' out of it alone, or anything dumb like that. I did not come in this world alone, my mom was there. And I am not goin' out of it alone, 'cause you were there, drunk on the couch, making Oscar Wilde cock jokes. No, this is a case, in some senses, of bravery. Not the bravery of facing a bullet down. The next few months of pain would be far harder than that small flash. No, it's the bravery of weighing up the next few months of still being with you, still waking up with you, of playing with the kids... Against the next few months of seeing in your eyes how much my pain is killing you. How my weakened body, as it ebbs away, and you tend to it, are your final and lasting memories of me. I won't have that. Your final memories of me will be us at the riverside, and that dumb fishing game, which I think they cheated at. And me inside of you, and you on top of me... And barely a fleeting thought, of the darkness yet to come. That was the best Anne. A whooole day of not thinking about it. Dwell on this day baby, 'cause it was the best day of my life. Kiss the girls for me, and know that I've always loved you... And maybe I'll see ya again if there's another place, and if there ain't... Well, it's been heaven knowing you. Your Boy, Bill

No matter how far or how fast you want to run away from me, I’m always going to chase you until I catch you and bring you right back to where you belong.

People who don’t know shit about mental health or the struggles that come along with it are always the ones who want to push you. They always want to push you to do this and do that, or act this way or don’t act a certain way. That in itself just drains you and makes you feel as though you’d rather end your life right there and then just so you don’t have to listen to their bullshit any longer.

Numbness… It’s the only thing I’ve been feeling since I felt my soul break

life can be so fucking unfair to the gentle souls of this world. Why do we need to suffer through things that feel impossible to survive? And for what? No apparent reason at all. So, fucking unfair!

I’ve heard the ‘strongest battle to the bravest soldiers’ saying before and it’s just a bunch of bullshit to me. Why aren’t the mean people, the evil people, and all the ones who consistently do bad things, the ones suffering? Why are the soft ones, the ones who don’t bother anyone else, the ones who always have horrible shit done to them? Yeah, I know that’s supposedly life, but I fucking hate it.

The emotions running through me right now are too much to deal with on my own. I want to scream out all my frustrations or break something. I want to rage and get rid of all this angry energy inside me but I don’t know how I’m supposed to do all that.

You are the light in my world. You brought that light at a time when all I could see was darkness. Now that your world is filled with darkness, it’s my turn to fill it with light again.

I make a vow that I will not let what happened rule my life. I won’t be their victim for the rest of my life. I will take my power back.

enough of the damn back-and-forth inside your own damn head!

This isn’t my fighter who’s standing here in front of me. This girl seems—broken…

Why the fuck am I paying for everyone’s sins and mistakes and revenge?

Storms don’t last forever, you know.

one of the steps in your journey. Face it, deal with it, and then overcome it,

Our little angel, We weren’t ready for you. But you’ll always be a part of us. Love Mommy and Daddy.

The little house in Riverside... didn't really matter. I saw at once that houses in general didn't really matter. You didn't live in the house, you lived on the porch, you lived in the outdoors with the lovely air blowing in all the windows. The houses were not impressive and the town was not impressive, but the people were impressive.

(...) he loved when water dried on his face, when his eyelashes matted with water and dried off swiftly in the sun. So we'd do our daytrips, and Saturdays amd Sundays go swimming. During wuring weekdays (...) we went to Vltava, down to Maniny there, to its riverside, where poplars rose along the river, where the railway tracks passed and where the sun shone so sweetly in the afternoon. That's where I was at my happiest.

I’m walking by the riverside, thinking of love as a choice tonight. I’m choosing you, I wanna be with you. You’re one in a million, you’re my lucky star. Forever, I know you’ll be so far away from me… whatever will be, will be. It’s a tragedy.” — Sami Abouzid

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You couldn’t handle my bite.” Something in him changes. It’s fleeting. And thanks to being up close and personal with him, I can see how blown his pupils are, how the brown from his inner irises have somehow widened in diameter underneath the harsh, recessed lighting, drowning out the previous green. “Wanna put that theory to the test? I love a girl who bites.

The guy I’m secretly in love with—the guy who looks at me like I’m his kid sister.

I don’t know what I feel for her. Even though we’re casual friends, I find myself thinking about her when I shouldn’t—in class, at practice—hell, she’s even infiltrated my dreams. All I know is when I’m with her, she makes everything seem possible. Like maybe I’m not just some boy with a rough past and a questionable future. She makes me feel like maybe I’m worthy of something other than my skills on the field.

I might not drink or smoke or do drugs, but I don’t need to because Mackenzie Hart is my vice.

The last few weeks, I’ve driven myself crazy thinking about her. I even found myself sampling all the lotions at the drug store the other day just to try and satisfy my craving, only to leave disappointed and longing for her even more than before.

The hurt in Mackenzie’s eyes this morning is about the saddest fucking thing I’ve ever experienced, and that’s saying something seeing as how my mom left me when I was a kid and my dad’s an addict.