F Scott Fitzgerald Quotes On Love Novels & Stories

His voice cracked slightly as he pushed forward. "If there’s one thing I learned far too late, it’s that love doesn't let you choose who to fall for. It happens without our permission and it is left for us to embrace it or live in denial.” My eyes shone like glass, my lips parted slightly. "I was too blind to notice those things then. Too stubborn. Too focused on what wasn't there. And by the time I realized I loved her, she was already gone." The crowd was silent now. "Scott," He said, turning to him, "you have someone incredible. And I hope you never forget that she doesn’t need diamonds or fancy dinners. She needs someone who listens. Who sees her even when she’s trying to hide."

“I know a man in love when I see one.” I waved my hand over my head. “Miss with that flag, I have seen love, tasted it, regretted it, paid for it, regretted it again, and ran away from it. I do not need love.” “Oh, come on child. Everyone needs love, especially you young ones who can still make their bodies work.” It took a while for her humor to hit, and when it did I almost rolled off my chair. “Martha! Who knew you had a mouth on you. Well, you should know most people can satisfy themselves without a partner.”

He simply let me be, and that was enough. “You look like someone who’s being pushed too hard,” he said quietly. “It’s been a bit of a roller coster ride for the past week,” I whispered, chuckling. “Sometimes,” he added gently, “people confuse love with control.” I swallowed, letting the words settle. It wasn’t a lecture. Not a warning. Just a reminder, quiet as the firelight dancing on the walls. ⸻

“And if I refuse to answer your questions that deserve explanations, it would seem I disliked your requirements. And it would seem the act of ignoring a strange love from a strange lover… but I would feel so good to lean against you and feel your strength. So good to feel your arms close around me and know that for these few moments I am safe. I almost feel as if I could stay here with you forever. But I suspect the love of men in a party; it starts in good and ends in fiasco.” “Vivian,” John began. “A strange love from a strange lover should not be instantly rejected and neither would the request of the one who offered the love be rushed at. Love is a delicate thing, meant to be nurtured, a

There was a soft, almost nervous patience about him, as if he were waiting for a quiet moment to share something sweet with the woman he loved. He said softly, “Son, not everyone is able to bear the destiny the Moon Goddess has set for us. Some never get the chance to find their true love, and none of us can turn back the hands of time.” “Love,” he said, “whether it’s a fated mate, a sudden spark at first sight, or a bond that grows over years, is delicate—like a goldfish in your hands. If you’re careless or distracted, it can slip away and vanish before you even notice.”

"You know nothing about my marriage, Martin. Don't pretend to understand." "Maybe I don't know the details," Martin said calmly. "But I know one thing. True love is not built on force and fear. There's an old saying: 'If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it's yours. If it doesn't, it never was.'" Martin paused for a moment before continuing.

“He was just the one idiot in the room who decided he couldn’t live with watching you be sold in it.” “Idiot,” I echo. She smiles, small and almost fond. “Love makes men stupid,” she says. “Even the smart, scary ones. Especially them.” The word love sits between us, heavy and obnoxious. I push my chair back, stand, and go to the window. From here, I can see a sliver of the drive, the tops of the cypress trees, a hint of sea. The internet’s question scrolls in my head like a neon marquee:

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I'm sick. I didn't mean it." I closed my eyes, bitter pooling in my chest. "I understand. Can I wash my face first?" "Go ahead." She let go, fidgeting like a guilty child. In the bathroom, I let the faucet drown out the world. Then I heard her voice outside. "She hides her emotions well. I hit her with a stick, and she didn't flinch. Isn't calling the loan sharks too much?" Alarmed, I grabbed my phone and bolted for the door.

I looked at him. “Tell me.” He sat down slowly and said nothing. “Isn’t it better if she hates me than if I put her through torture?” I continued, my voice shaking. “My life is already a torture. Look at you—you’re just like her. You care more about the people you love than yourself. You’re stuck with me, even when I try to set you up on dates, you always escape. Your excuse is always that love will distract you from work. But love doesn’t always favor you. I know you say all those lies because you don’t want to leave me.”

she said randomly and I smiled loving when she speaks about herself. "I think I picked that up the first time we met," "That's one of my favorite quotes," she said smiling her eyes shinning. "Why?" I asked wanting to know more. "I think it speaks volumes no matter what generation we're in, people constantly mistaken lust for love," she whispered almost as if to herself as she flashed me a sad smile. "Have you ever done that?" "Hasn't everyone, everybody wants to feel love so we label anything we feel as love, we fall in love with the idea of love from fairytales, books, movies hoping for perfection, perfection that we can never have,"