Surely the saddest thing in the world is falling out of love - if once one has ever fallen in.
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her. To hear the immense night, more immense without her. And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.
If you can love the wrong person that much, imagine how much you can love the right one.
It's not the goodbye that hurts. It's the flashbacks and the memories that follow.
It takes a strong heart to love but it takes a stronger heart to continue to love after it's hurt.
Why should I be sad? I have lost someone who didn't love me. But they lost someone who loved them.
Music I heard with you was more than music, and bread I broke with you was more than bread. Now that I am without you, all is desolate; all that was once so beautiful is dead.
I have not broken your heart - you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine.
All that remains to us when love and glory are over, when adventures and passions have faded into the past, is but a deeper and ever-deepening sense of the infinite; and if we have not that within us, then are we destitute indeed.