I have never wanted a lover. In order to have a lover, I must go back to the root of the word. For I have never wanted a lover, but I have always wanted to love, and to be loved.

Who else but a lover retains the ability to wound the other person with such passion, such precision? And who else but that lover has the capacity to heal what he or she has done?

When you carry a gun, everything starts looking like a sword. If you pass the butter too quickly, I’m likely to shoot you. But even if you attack me, we can still be lovers.

Your whispers are gentle echoes that sway ardent winds of harmony and in the symphony of life each word is wrapped in rhapsody... Dance with me within the wind... Let me love You...

And even though they had not had sex yet, he was a great lover, replacing sex with the science of bravery and inner strength. Meredith had always wanted a man with this kind of depth.

Let’s get you one, Anna.”“A lover?”Edith rolled her eyes. “No. A fucking houseplant. Yes, a lover.” Edith smirked. “It’ll cheer you up!

... only a seer or a lover would know that I'm making a jewelry of words for you -drawn from your essence -to flash and burn with your fire -so you can bedazzle with your own light ...

First impression is not the last reflection of a true friend, so if you are head over heels for someone who just bought you a cake, you'd better think twice before devouring your misery.

Something’s different about Mr. Different. The same can’t be said about Ms. Same. The two would make the best lovers, but that’s impossible, because I’m the best lover.

Swinging back and forthdeeply stuck in tranced forbidden dreamWanting not to recognize fantasyis purely schemeElaborate facade of lustinto realityTransferring thoughts of illusionwill be fatality

My bathtub is big enough for two people to fit comfortably in separate showers. I’m the kind of lover that Lowe’s home improvement salesmen who are working for commission dream about.

I always wear an oven mitt when I go in for a handshake, because I like to give visual hints about what kind of lover I’d make. I don’t use a cup to drink coffee—I use a flowerpot.

أحسًّ حيال عينيكبشيءٍ داخلي يبكي

I had a dream about you. You fell into my arms like a 120-pound sack of gold coins. So I did what any respectable lover would do—I buried you in the backyard so nobody could steal you away from me.

Please, Katsa," he finally said. "At least talk to me".She swung around to face him. "What it there to talk about? You know how I feel, and what I think about it.""And what I feel? Doesn't it matter?