memes about unrequited love
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One-sided love can be frustrating, heartbreaking, and overwhelming. If you’ve ever experienced unrequited love, you know how difficult it can be to move on. These unrequited love quotes will help you express your feelings and find comfort in knowing you’re not alone.
Unrequited love is one of the most difficult things to deal with. It can turn into a vicious cycle of hurt and pain that is difficult to break. Those who have experienced it know that it is not something that simply goes away. It can linger and fester, causing damage to both the person who is in love and the object of their affection. It is important to be aware of the dangers of unrequited love and to take steps to protect yourself from its potential harmful effects.
Unrequited love is no fun. It’s painful and it can be really unhealthy. If you find yourself in this situation, it’s important to try to move on. Don’t dwell on what could have been. Instead, focus on finding someone who loves you back.
Unrequited love is often compared to grief because it is a type of loss. When we love someone who does not love us back, we are chasing after something that we can never have. This can lead to feelings of sadness, loneliness, and despair. While it is difficult to go through, unrequited love can teach us a lot about ourselves and what we are looking for in a relationship. It can also make us stronger and more resilient.
It’s never easy to let go of someone you love, especially if you yourself are not loved in return. But if you want to move on with your life, it’s important to accept the truth and let go. Only then can you truly start to heal and move forward.
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Unrequited Love Quotes
Quotes tagged as "unrequited-love"
Showing 1-30 of 846
“I wanted so badly to lie down next to her on the couch, to wrap my arms around her and sleep. Not fuck, like in those movies. Not even have sex. Just sleep together in the most innocent sense of the phrase. But I lacked the courage and she had a boyfriend and I was gawky and she was gorgeous and I was hopelessly boring and she was endlessly fascinating. So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was hurricane.”
―
John Green,
Looking for Alaska
“If music be the food of love, play on;Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,The appetite may sicken, and so die.That strain again! it had a dying fall:O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound,That breathes upon a bank of violets,Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more:'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.O spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou,That, notwithstanding thy capacityReceiveth as the sea, nought enters there,Of what validity and pitch soe'er,But falls into abatement and low price,Even in a minute: so full of shapes is fancyThat it alone is high fantastical.”
―
William Shakespeare,
Twelfth Night
“To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.”
―
Federico García Lorca,
Blood Wedding and Yerma
“Because what’s worse than knowing you want something, besides knowing you can never have it?”
―
James Patterson,
The Angel Experiment
“The way he looked at you. I got it then. He loved you, and it was killing him. He won't get over you, Clary, he can't.”
―
Cassandra Clare,
City of Glass
“Because, if you could love someone, and keep loving them, without being loved back . . . then that love had to be real. It hurt too much to be anything else.”
―
Sarah Cross,
Kill Me Softly
“Snape's patronus was a doe,' said Harry, 'the same as my mother's because he loved her for nearly all of his life, from when they were children.”
―
J.K. Rowling,
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
“Maybe I was destined to forever fall in love with people I couldn’t have. Maybe there’s a whole assortment of impossible people waiting for me to find them. Waiting to make me feel the same impossibility over and over again.”
―
Carol Rifka Brunt,
Tell the Wolves I'm Home
“...unrequited love does not die; it's only beaten down to a secret place where it hides, curled and wounded. For some unfortunates, it turns bitter and mean, and those who come after pay the price for the hurt done by the one who came before.”
―
Elle Newmark,
The Book of Unholy Mischief
“I wouldn't change it," Simon said. "I wouldn't give up loving you. Not for anything. You know what Raphael told me? That I didn't know how to be a good vampire, that vampires accept that they're dead. But as long as I remember what it was like to love you, I'll always feel like I'm alive.”
―
Cassandra Clare,
City of Glass
“First of all, love is a joint experience between two persons — but the fact that it is a joint experience does not mean that it is a similar experience to the two people involved. There are the lover and the beloved, but these two come from different countries. Often the beloved is only a stimulus for all the stored-up love which had lain quiet within the lover for a long time hitherto. And somehow every lover knows this. He feels in his soul that his love is a solitary thing. He comes to know a new, strange loneliness and it is this knowledge which makes him suffer. So there is only one thing for the lover to do. He must house his love within himself as best he can; he must create for himself a whole new inward world — a world intense and strange, complete in himself. Let it be added here that this lover about whom we speak need not necessarily be a young man saving for a wedding ring — this lover can be man, woman, child, or indeed any human creature on this earth.Now, the beloved can also be of any description. The most outlandish people can be the stimulus for love. A man may be a doddering great-grandfather and still love only a strange girl he saw in the streets of Cheehaw one afternoon two decades past. The preacher may love a fallen woman. The beloved may be treacherous, greasy-headed, and given to evil habits. Yes, and the lover may see this as clearly as anyone else — but that does not affect the evolution of his love one whit. A most mediocre person can be the object of a love which is wild, extravagant, and beautiful as the poison lilies of the swamp. A good man may be the stimulus for a love both violent and debased, or a jabbering madman may bring about in the soul of someone a tender and simple idyll. Therefore, the value and quality of any love is determined solely by the lover himself.
It is for this reason that most of us would rather love than be loved. Almost everyone wants to be the lover. And the curt truth is that, in a deep secret way, the state of being beloved is intolerable to many. The beloved fears and hates the lover, and with the best of reasons. For the lover is forever trying to strip bare his beloved. The lover craves any possible relation with the beloved, even if this experience can cause him only pain.”
―
carson mccullers,
The Ballad of the Sad Café and Other Stories
HomeMy BooksBrowse ▾RecommendationsChoice AwardsGenresGiveawaysNew ReleasesListsExploreNews & InterviewsArtBiographyBusinessChildren'sChristianClassicsComicsCookbooksEbooksFantasyFictionGraphic NovelsHistorical FictionHistoryHorrorMemoirMusicMysteryNonfictionPoetryPsychologyRomanceScienceScience FictionSelf HelpSportsThrillerTravelYoung AdultMore Genres
Find & Share Quotes with Friends
Unrequited Love Quotes
Quotes tagged as "unrequited-love"
Showing 1-30 of 846
“I wanted so badly to lie down next to her on the couch, to wrap my arms around her and sleep. Not fuck, like in those movies. Not even have sex. Just sleep together in the most innocent sense of the phrase. But I lacked the courage and she had a boyfriend and I was gawky and she was gorgeous and I was hopelessly boring and she was endlessly fascinating. So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was hurricane.”
―
John Green,
Looking for Alaska
“If music be the food of love, play on;Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,The appetite may sicken, and so die.That strain again! it had a dying fall:O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound,That breathes upon a bank of violets,Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more:'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.O spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou,That, notwithstanding thy capacityReceiveth as the sea, nought enters there,Of what validity and pitch soe'er,But falls into abatement and low price,Even in a minute: so full of shapes is fancyThat it alone is high fantastical.”
―
William Shakespeare,
Twelfth Night
“To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.”
―
Federico García Lorca,
Blood Wedding and Yerma
“Because what’s worse than knowing you want something, besides knowing you can never have it?”
―
James Patterson,
The Angel Experiment
“The way he looked at you. I got it then. He loved you, and it was killing him. He won't get over you, Clary, he can't.”
―
Cassandra Clare,
City of Glass
“Because, if you could love someone, and keep loving them, without being loved back . . . then that love had to be real. It hurt too much to be anything else.”
―
Sarah Cross,
Kill Me Softly
“Snape's patronus was a doe,' said Harry, 'the same as my mother's because he loved her for nearly all of his life, from when they were children.”
―
J.K. Rowling,
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
“Maybe I was destined to forever fall in love with people I couldn’t have. Maybe there’s a whole assortment of impossible people waiting for me to find them. Waiting to make me feel the same impossibility over and over again.”
―
Carol Rifka Brunt,
Tell the Wolves I'm Home
“...unrequited love does not die; it's only beaten down to a secret place where it hides, curled and wounded. For some unfortunates, it turns bitter and mean, and those who come after pay the price for the hurt done by the one who came before.”
―
Elle Newmark,
The Book of Unholy Mischief
“I wouldn't change it," Simon said. "I wouldn't give up loving you. Not for anything. You know what Raphael told me? That I didn't know how to be a good vampire, that vampires accept that they're dead. But as long as I remember what it was like to love you, I'll always feel like I'm alive.”
―
Cassandra Clare,
City of Glass
“First of all, love is a joint experience between two persons — but the fact that it is a joint experience does not mean that it is a similar experience to the two people involved. There are the lover and the beloved, but these two come from different countries. Often the beloved is only a stimulus for all the stored-up love which had lain quiet within the lover for a long time hitherto. And somehow every lover knows this. He feels in his soul that his love is a solitary thing. He comes to know a new, strange loneliness and it is this knowledge which makes him suffer. So there is only one thing for the lover to do. He must house his love within himself as best he can; he must create for himself a whole new inward world — a world intense and strange, complete in himself. Let it be added here that this lover about whom we speak need not necessarily be a young man saving for a wedding ring — this lover can be man, woman, child, or indeed any human creature on this earth.Now, the beloved can also be of any description. The most outlandish people can be the stimulus for love. A man may be a doddering great-grandfather and still love only a strange girl he saw in the streets of Cheehaw one afternoon two decades past. The preacher may love a fallen woman. The beloved may be treacherous, greasy-headed, and given to evil habits. Yes, and the lover may see this as clearly as anyone else — but that does not affect the evolution of his love one whit. A most mediocre person can be the object of a love which is wild, extravagant, and beautiful as the poison lilies of the swamp. A good man may be the stimulus for a love both violent and debased, or a jabbering madman may bring about in the soul of someone a tender and simple idyll. Therefore, the value and quality of any love is determined solely by the lover himself.
It is for this reason that most of us would rather love than be loved. Almost everyone wants to be the lover. And the curt truth is that, in a deep secret way, the state of being beloved is intolerable to many. The beloved fears and hates the lover, and with the best of reasons. For the lover is forever trying to strip bare his beloved. The lover craves any possible relation with the beloved, even if this experience can cause him only pain.”
―
carson mccullers,
The Ballad of the Sad Café and Other Stories
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