I talked to you on the phone the other day, and I realized what is that makes you special. You have such a great voice and it doesn't matter what you are saying, it makes me feel like I'm important like I mean something to you.
To love someone is to see something no one else sees.
I don't know why I love him the way I do. He makes me feel so safe and so loved, in his arms I am truly free. The way he looks at me sends shivers down my spine but I know everything will be okay. He always makes everything okay. When he smiles at me my heart could soar. Every stupid love song on the radio belongs to us. It's so nice just to love him and not care and know that he loves me back. It's nice to be with him and spend time with him and watch his sweet face as he sleeps and to feel his heart beat. I think if you felt our heartbeats they would beat at the same time. I feel like this is what I was meant to feel, like all the others were just practice, but this is for real. He makes me feel like I could be anyone and do anything I wanted. The way he protects me makes me melt, and the way he is so overprotective. I'm not afraid anymore, he's always comforting me and letting me know he's with me every step of the way. So this is what true love feels like..
Ever notice that the people who hurt you the most are the ones you tend to love more.
At times I may upset you, sometimes I'll make you mad, sometimes my words will wound you, at times I'll make you sad, but you'll NEVER find another girl that loves you more than me, I love you with my heart and soul... for all eternity.
He said forever She said okay.
Put your arms around me. What you feel is what you are and what you are is beautiful.
Every time God creates a soul in heaven, he creates another to be its special mate. And that once we're born we begin to search for our soul mate, the one person who's the perfect fit for our match.
I can't help myself; I don't want anyone else.
Lust is when you love what you see. Love is when you lust for what's inside.
Once in a while, right in the middle of an ordinary life, love gives us a fairy tale.
Her hips maintained a divinely sensuous sway. Even when her mind was far from love, when she stiffened, clenched and protested against love, it was always love- all its forms, its intoxications, its intensity which animated and, so to speak modulated that elect body. There was not an attitude, not a gesture, not a shiver, not a crease of her dress, not a ripple of her hair which did not cry out of love, which did not ooze love, which did not lavish love on all the beings and things around her.