Unchained Love Quotes

You can't truly hate someone you've loved. You can only hurt.

Jealousy appears to be a redoubtable pitfall for love, on the toll road of self-absorption and unshareability. When love has to remain cloistered and ostentatiously exclusionary, envy may show its pernicious power, cause wounding harms and unchain emotional twisters. ("Why has Shé got stars in the sky?")

When the rusty shackles of our emotions are being unchained, we can become lovers without a cause, and intrinsically the deepest wells of our unconsciousness may uncover the uncharted territories of deliverance, granting free rein to our intuition and giving love downright carte blanche. ("Another empty room" )

What?" she asked. "You're beautiful." She rolled her eyes. "Flattery will get you laid." "I sure hope so.

They wanted it because they've got some sort of darkness in them. And maybe because they like pain. Because pain turns them on. Well, maybe it turns me on, too," she said quietly. "In fact, I know it does, because loving you hurts. And yet, I still come back for more.

We ran like young wild furies, where angels feared to tread. The woods were dark and deep. Before us demons fled. We checked Coke bottle bottoms to see how far was far. Our worlds of magic wonder were never reached by car. We loved our dogs like brothers, our bikes like rocket ships. We were going to the stars, to Mars we'd make round trips. We swung on vines like Tarzan, and flashed Zorro's keen blade. We were James Bond in his Aston, we were Hercules unchained. We looked upon the future and we saw a distant land, where our folks were always ageless, and time was shifting sand. We filled up life with living, with grins, scabbed knees, and noise. In glass I see an older man, but this book's for the boys.

If she wanted you, her eyes would buy you out - and you won’t even know it. She was three parts devil, and two parts human; and what remained - unchained spirit.

The clock ticks; the taunting rhythm serving as a reminder that forward is the only way we can go. The mechanical heartbeat of the darkness, a cold ellipsis, punctuating years gone by. Arising unchained. No glorious hymn, just the steady beat of the illusion of time. We heal or we carry forward the weight of our wounds... To believe otherwise is the mendacity of desperation. Arising honestly. The miles behind are littered with the weight of nostalgia, but too many miles lay ahead us to carry the weight. In the end, even echoes fade away. Pen in hand... Arising to write the next chapter. (MU Articles 2013, Dedication to Joey)

I love you, babe. To the moon and back. Always and forever. I want you, more, if that’s even possible. This doesn’t change anything. I know it hurts now, but . . . we still have one another. That’s all that counts, Princess. You and me.

Unhealthy love can make fools of women. It causes us to forgive the unforgivable. It twists our feelings into a macabre parody of actual love until we think that our unhealthy emotions are the real deal and not a sick obsession.

Cooper's tremendous love and energy and unchained freedom had captured life itself. Now, as the last shovelful covered him forever, I knew I would always carry a big piece of Cooper Half Malamute with me until I too was covered by the earth.

America loves to pray, God knows. America prays and prays and prays, it is the land of unchained prayer, and all this ceremonial praying is hard on Billy.

I don't have all of the answers to the world. I don't know everything about life and marriage and happiness. But I do know what love is. And I do know that when love is real, and when love is in its strongest form, it is the most powerful thing on this earth. It kills, saves lives, heals wounds, and most of all, brings hope. That is what you have done for me, Lily. You have brought me hope. When I look into your eyes, I know that no matter what may happen to me, as long as I can see those eyes staring back at me, then I'll be fine. Somehow I'll make it through. Somehow I'll find a way to survive for you. And that's what I want to feel for the rest of my time here on Earth, however short or long that may be. I want to wake up every morning and see your shining face staring back at me. But I also want to protect you. I want to protect you from anything that may hurt you. I want to be there when you cry to dry your tears. When you feel lonely, I want to give you a kiss. When you are scared, to embrace you. And when you are happy, to share a laugh with you. I don't know what's in store for us, but I do know that true love outlasts everything. It outlasts doubt, hate, war, misfortune, and most of all death. I vow to you to always be beside you. Not only in this life, but the next. Because that's when love becomes real. That's when love becomes unchained from anything in this life. I know that when I die, the first thing that I will see will be your eyes. That is how I will know that I made it to Heaven. Because you and I will still be together, forever." -James Potter

I didn’t fuck Beau. I made slow, tantalizing love to him. Hey, first time for everything. We went slowly. My dick was rock hard. He used his hands to stroke his cock. My fingers were wrapped around his ankles so hard they might leave bruises. And yet we maintained eye contact. Even as the first threads of orgasm pulled at me. I watched his face. I memorized those dimples, the wide brown eyes, slightly flat nose, and his sharp jaw.

So fucking beautiful," Sawyer whispered, his voice almost breaking, the desire evident in his tone. "Let me love you," he muttered in a husky voice, and his choice of words temporarily stunned me. I felt the weight of his penetrative stare, which conveyed how much he meant his words. Too soon.

Being in love with someone means making compromises in your relationship.

Luck I get,” she said when they’d sat in silence once more. “But why brave?” He shifted in his seat then sat forward, his gaze piercing through her. “Because, Natalia, love is a risk. Love from the depths of your soul requires a certain amount of sacrifice. It bids you to give yourself wholly to another. To allow someone to view you like a prism, assessing you at every angle, examining every flaw. You must lay yourself before them, open and bare, and say, ‘here I am. I hold nothing back. I am yours, mind, body, and soul.’ And all you can do is hope they don’t crush you.” He leaned closer. “But the man who truly loves you will tend to your heart like he tends a garden, nurturing it until it grows and blooms under his hand.

We ran like young wild furies, where angels feared to tread. The woods were dark and deep. Before us demons fled. We checked Coke bottle bottoms to see how far was far. Our worlds of magic wonder were never reached by car. We loved our dogs like brothers, our bikes like rocket ships. We were going to the stars, to Mars we’d make round trips. We swung on vines like Tarzan, and flashed Zorro’s keen blade. We were James Bond in his Aston, we were Hercules unchained. We looked upon the future and we saw a distant land, where our folks were always ageless, and time was shifting sand. We filled up life with living, with grins, scabbed knees, and noise. In glass I see an older man, but this book’s for the boys.

Love ain’t gotta be soft. Love got us through everything hard. Love is rough. Love got us through slavery. Love got us through oppression. Love stopped us from killing ourselves under extreme conditions. If it wasn’t for love we wouldn’t be here today.

The life that God lives as Father, Son and Spirit is not boring and sad and lonely. There is no emptiness in this circle, no depression or fear or angst. The Trinitarian life is a life of unchained fellowship and intimacy, fired by passionate, self-giving love and mutual delight. Such love, giving rise to such togetherness and fellowship, overflows in unbounded joy, in infinite creativity and unimaginable goodness. The gospel begins here with this God and with this divine life, for there is no other. Before time dawned and space was called to be, before the heavens were stretched out and filled with a sea of stars, before the earth was summoned and filled with people and life and endless beauty, before there was anything, there was the Father, Son and Spirit and the great dance of Trinitarian life. The amazing truth is that this Triune God, in staggering and lavish love, determined to open the circle and share the Trinitarian life with others. This is the one, eternal and abiding reason for the existence of the universe and human life within it. There is no other God, no other will of God, no second plan, no hidden agenda for human beings. From the beginning, God is Father, Son and Spirit, and from the beginning, this God has determined not to exist without us.

There’s our homecoming picture. Last Halloween, when I dressed up as Mulan and Peter wore a dragon costume. There’s a receipt from Tart and Tangy. One of his notes to me, from before. If you make Josh’s dumb white-chocolate cranberry cookies and not my fruitcake ones, it’s over. Pictures of us from Senior Week. Prom. Dried rose petals from my corsage. The Sixteen Candles picture. There are some things I didn’t include, like the ticket stub from our first real date, the note he wrote me that said, I like you in blue. Those things are tucked away in my hatbox. I’ll never let those go. But the really special thing I’ve included is my letter, the one I wrote to him so long ago, the one that brought us together. I wanted to keep it, but something felt right about Peter having it. One day all of this will be proof, proof that we were here, proof that we loved each other. It’s the guarantee that no matter what happens to us in the future, this time was ours. When he gets to that page, Peter stops. “I thought you wanted to keep this,” he said. “I wanted to, but then I felt like you should have it. Just promise you’ll keep it forever.” He turns the page. It’s a picture from when we took my grandma to karaoke. I sang “You’re So Vain” and dedicated it to Peter. Peter got up and sang “Style” by Taylor Swift. Then he dueted “Unchained Melody” with my grandma, and after, she made us both promise to take a Korean language class at UVA. She and Peter took a ton of selfies together that night. She made one her home screen on her phone. Her friends at her apartment complex said he looked like a movie star. I made the mistake of telling Peter, and he crowed about it for days after. He stays on that page for a while. When he doesn’t say anything, I say, helpfully, “It’s something to remember us by.” He snaps the book shut. “Thanks,” he says, flashing me a quick smile. “This is awesome.

More than putting another man on the moon, more than a New Year’s resolution of yogurt and yoga, we need the opportunity to dance with really exquisite strangers. A slow dance between the couch and dinning room table, at the end of the party, while the person we love has gone to bring the car around because it’s begun to rain and would break their heart if any part of us got wet. A slow dance to bring the evening home, to knock it out of the park. Two people rocking back and forth like a buoy. Nothing extravagant. A little music. An empty bottle of whiskey. It’s a little like cheating. Your head resting on his shoulder, your breath moving up his neck. Your hands along her spine. Her hips unfolding like a cotton napkin and you begin to think about how all the stars in the sky are dead. The my body is talking to your body slow dance. The Unchained Melody, Stairway to Heaven, power-cord slow dance. All my life I’ve made mistakes. Small and cruel. I made my plans. I never arrived. I ate my food. I drank my wine. The slow dance doesn’t care. It’s all kindness like children before they turn four. Like being held in the arms of my brother. The slow dance of siblings. Two men in the middle of the room. When I dance with him, one of my great loves, he is absolutely human, and when he turns to dip me or I step on his foot because we are both leading, I know that one of us will die first and the other will suffer. The slow dance of what’s to come and the slow dance of insomnia pouring across the floor like bath water. When the woman I’m sleeping with stands naked in the bathroom, brushing her teeth, the slow dance of ritual is being spit into the sink. There is no one to save us because there is no need to be saved. I’ve hurt you. I’ve loved you. I’ve mowed the front yard. When the stranger wearing a shear white dress covered in a million beads comes toward me like an over-sexed chandelier suddenly come to life, I take her hand in mine. I spin her out and bring her in. This is the almond grove in the dark slow dance. It is what we should be doing right now. Scrapping for joy. The haiku and honey. The orange and orangutan slow dance.

Whatever was good for the goose sure as hell was good for the gander.

He was a boy she met in the rain. a man she kissed at lovers lane. and an old soul her heart never wanted to unchain.

That's just it, Jules." Amelia sucked in a deep breath and let it out. "I don't want to have to find someone. I've never thought of love as something you plan." She shifted to face her. "It just doesn't come to your door and announce itself. You meet someone by chance, and whether it's for a day, an hour, or a minute, it's an instant connection. It hits you like a lightning bolt, smoothing out all of your edges and filling all the gashes in your soul. All the chaos you’ve endured in your past dissolves, and you want to submerge yourself in it completely.

If one can picture the words, then the works of the writer is an accomplishment!

Just give me what I want, big brother. Let me feed and care for you until you feel as loved and full as I do.

Satan creates lies that we are alone, not good enough, not loved, unliked, not safe, that the world is out to get us, and that we should look out for ourselves first and foremost. If we buy into these deceptions, then we will fall. This is why it is paramount that we put God first in everything. In Matthew 10:38–39, Jesus says, “Whoever

Burn my friend, burn, Burn so bright that the sun gets fried! Shine my friend, shine, Shine so bright that Rudolf goes blind! Smile my friend, smile, Smile so pure that flowers shy away. Love my friend, love, Love so drunk that Rumi himself lays the way. Fly my friend, fly, Fly so fearless that Tagore himself honors you. Live my friend, live, Live so unchained that time makes gospel of you.

Ten years is not enough to make me forget about you, baby. I loved you then. Time didn’t change that. If I had known what was happening to you, I would’ve burned the fucking world down to save you.

You. I’m looking at you. How fucking beautiful you are. Wondering how I got so lucky to find you in that fucking basement. You consume me, Sassy. I fucking love you down to my very core. I will never live without you again. You are mine. I own you. All of you. Any man who tries to take what’s mine…dies a slow and painful death.

Does anyone understand how hard it is to be in love with someone who you know is in love with you, but they refuse to admit it? It is so hard to be around them every single day, and be close friends with them, because every second you want to grab them and pull them into a passionate kiss, letting them know how much you care. Well, that explains my situation perfectly.

This important side-track, by which woman succeeded in evading man's strenth and establishing herself in power, has not been given due consideration by historians. From the moment when the woman detached herself from the crowd, an individual finished product, offering delights which could not be obtained by force, but only by flattery... the reign of love's preistesses was inaugurated. It was a development of far-reaching importance in the histrory of civilization. .. Only by the circuitous route of the art of love could woman again assert authority, and this she did by asserting herself at the very point at which she would normally be a slave at the man's mercy. She had discovered the might of lust, the secret of the art of love, the daemonic power of a passion artificially aroused and never satiated. The force tints unchained was thenceforth to count among the most tremendous of the world's forces and at moments to have power even over life and death... The deliberate spell-binding of man's senses was to have a magical effect upon him, opening up an infinitely wider range of sensation and spurring him on as if impelled by an inspired dream.

As a writer, I think it is my duty to be as responsible as I can with (my)perspective, insights, experiences, & values. Being raised in a black & white- "good & bad" societal mentality has frustrated me. My common mentors (societal, religious, govt., authoritative', etc.) presented a skewed ‘role-model’ to me; colouring the world/‘s of myself, and other people, with their own personal expectations of how society should be. It’s not really trusting people to grow into who they are as a person. Going back to my original verve for writing has meant working (tirelessly) to (try to) remove habitual things; finite statements, assumptions, misinformation, misunderstanding, as well as cyclical (fear-based) conditioning. I want to be responsible. And this has meant that I had to work hard to shake loose from the past. Sometimes it meant screaming "How dare you teach me fear & ignorance!" into my pillow- as I work at ripping the (imposed) bars away from my craft. I am still working at it, and, as hard as it has been- it’s been worth it. I value the integrity of writing (as a creative craft) so very much. I always admired those writers who stood out from the traditional. The writers who challenged the conventional. Those [writers] who dared to present a balanced perspective- no matter how uncommon... To me, they were the best teachers. They inspired unchained learning, wisdom, and developmental skills... Those things which I see as gifting readers with bountiful landscapes into their [readers] own souls. This is what it means, for me, to be a writer. That does not mean it is what it has to mean for others. Each of us get our own unique voices, styles, expressions, dreams, and creativity. I also want to be understood- clearly, truly, and genuinely- as a human, and as a writer. And I want to foster my imagination, creativity, and passion; building a world that I love- knowing that other people may also enjoy it, and some may not.

Afterlight Sonnet Forget about afterlife, focus on afterlight, light that is left behind, by your deeds of life. We need to paint the world human, not red, blue or red, white and blue. We need to stretch our mind unchained, if the human is to ever come true. Lever of life is believer of life, Fever of love is fervor of love. Speak truth where truth is needed, but to those in pain give a little hug. Never give a lecture unless you're asked, Encyclopedias bear facts, not meaning. Measure of truth is the good it does, Truth without heart is bigotry supreme.

Edward loves him enough to have killed for him, and Noah will love him enough not to.

How did you unchain the door?” The tension ebbs from my constricted chest on a forced exhale. “A slab of wood won’t keep me from you. What were you dreaming about?

St Michael and All Angels Michaelmas gales assail the waning year, And Michael’s scale is true, his blade is bright. He strips dead leaves, and leaves the living clear To flourish in the touch and reach of light. Archangel bring your balance, help me turn Upon this turning world with you and dance In the Great Dance. Draw near, help me discern, And trace the hidden grace in change and chance. Angel of fire, love’s fierce radiance, Drive through the deep until the steep waves part; Undo the dragon’s sinuous influence And pierce the clotted darkness in my heart. Unchain the child you find there, break the spell And overthrow the tyrannies of hell.

Cagayn police have issued an all-officer dispatch for vans of that description to be pulled over and checked.” “The boss would have loved that one: proper police work.

every bit of me that I loathed, those weakened, vulnerable moments, was every bit of me she loved, this is what I miss the most.

Somewhere between love and hate. "lies our emotions that are being unchained, and capable of anything.

Love, stealing with grace into the heart you wish to destroy, love, turning us blind with the bitter poison of desire, love come not my way. And when you whirl through the streets, wild steps to unchained rhythms, love, I pray you, brush not against me, love, I beg you, pass me by.

choose our battles.

I didn’t ask the driver, because his old ass creeped me out. He reminded me of Samuel L. Jackson’s character in Django Unchained—gray and ornery.