Leo Tolstoy
Then he thought himself unhappy, but happiness was all in the future; now he felt that the best happiness was already in the past. ― Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina. (Norilana Books February 16, 2008) Originally published 1873.
Category: Romance
Boris Pasternak
No deep and strong feeling, such as we may come across here and there in the world, is unmixed with compassion. The more we love, the more the object of our love seems to be a victim. ― Boris Pasternak, Doctor Zhivago. (Hallmark Editions; First Thus edition January 1, 1967) Originally published January 1st 1965.
Nora Ephron
I love that you get cold when it’s 71 degrees out. I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich. I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you’re looking at me like I’m nuts. I love that after I spend the day with you,… Continue reading Nora Ephron
Charles Dickens
And still I stood looking at the house, thinking how happy I should be if I lived there with her, and knowing that I never was happy with her, but always miserable. ― Charles Dickens, Great Expectations. (Chapman & Hall; Serialized 1860-1; book form 1861)
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
I am proud of my heart alone, it is the sole source of everything, all our strength, happiness and misery. All the knowledge I possess everyone else can acquire, but my heart is all my own. ― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, The Sorrows of Young Werther. (Modern Library; Reprint edition, February 8, 2005) Originally published… Continue reading Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Boris Pasternak
I don’t think I could love you so much if you had nothing to complain of and nothing to regret. I don’t like people who have never fallen or stumbled. Their virtue is lifeless and of little value. Life hasn’t revealed its beauty to them. — Boris Pasternak, Doctor Zhivago (Hallmark Editions; First Thus edition … Continue reading Boris Pasternak
Charlotte Brontë
Sometimes I have the strangest feeling about you. Especially when you are near me as you are now. It feels as though I had a string tied here under my left rib where my heart is, tightly knotted to you in a similar fashion. And when you go, with all that distance between us, I… Continue reading Charlotte Brontë
