Sad Love Quotes that make you cry image wallpaper quotes tumblr poems girl photos : 2013

Sad Love Status Biography

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Love's True Color
Love come in many colors
an illusory hope arching
across the sky
a rainbow ending in broken
promises and tears

Love seen through a prism
is only an optical deviation
a foolish man's perspective
of love's true value

Love is painted in shades
of monochrome
a chiaroscuro image of
Caravaggio's brush

Love is black and white
colors having no hue
love absorb and reflected
nothing but an incidental light

Melancholy Song

Softly the silent
humor gives way to
my heart's beating

Within the chambers
echo the sadness of
heartstrings strumming

A violin's mournful plea
hollow sounds of
unrequited love

Depressing keys in
pianissimo fills
the empty space

Softly,
softly tears are shed
a solitary table
an empty chair
But for one moment
infinity gave pause
a lover's lost bouquet

Fragrance of the past
whimsical whiff of essence
takes me back to you

Opiate memories
escape the distant mist
a tear in silence drop

Pain and agony
blurred,forgotten
rips open my heart

Gary Shteyngart's latest novel 'feels like flicking between Tolstoy and Facebook on an iPad'. Photograph: Ulf Andersen/Ulf Andersen / Solo
Blending sharp satire with moving portraits of love between lonely people, Gary Shteyngart's fiendishly clever third novel leaves you wondering whether that dull ache in your stomach is from laughter or just plain sadness.

Super Sad True Love Story
by Gary Shteyngart

Life without love is meaningless. Love was born even before mankind was born and it still exists in all kinds of organism, including humans. Though love is expressed in various forms and between different relationships, eternal love is accomplished between a man and a woman. Love is one trait that never diminishes as long as you give it to others and keeps on growing.

There are immortal stories on lovers and immortal quotes on love and a few of them are given below. Even in the stories that ended in tragedy, love has never failed but only the lovers have. They stand evergreen and are suitable for all ages of time, whatever is the advancement in technology and science. They are suitable to be sent to your friends or loved ones as ecard, quote or email.

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The setting is very-near-future New York. The dollar is plummeting, the streets are filled with soldiers and China is threatening to invade. Meanwhile, the information age has reached maximum insanity. Everyone works in media or credit. People don't really like talking much any more; they prefer streaming information about each other on their "apparati" (alarmingly smart phones). And they certainly don't like reading books – apart from anything else, they smell bad.

Against this carnivalesque backdrop, 39-year-old Russian-American Lenny Abramov is also in decline. But though greying, balding and failing, Lenny believes his fortunes are reversible if he can just persuade Eunice Park, a 24-year-old Korean-American, to fall in love with him. Beautiful and casually cruel, Eunice realises that Lenny can provide her with the love and safety for which she desperately yearns. She moves into his apartment and they start building a life together.

Both are second-generation immigrants, watching in horror as the promise of New York turns sour. But most important, they remain foreign to each other. Lenny reads "actual books", while Eunice streams data. He finds her youthful body divine; she finds his ageing bulk a little repulsive – they compromise with Lenny giving Eunice oral pleasure, which he does with religious seriousness.

Things work – they make each other happy – but eventually things fall shatteringly apart. These passages are wrenchingly sad and display an emotional intelligence that was less to the fore in Shteyngart's previous novels.

The story unfolds through Lenny's pensive diary entries and Eunice's hyperactive social media exchanges. Eunice also receives poignant emails from her mother, whose patchy English produces oddly hip-sounding pearls of wisdom. ("Sometimes life is suck," she writes solemnly.) Of Russian descent, Shteyngart hops between the deep soulfulness of Russian literature and the skittish parlance of online communication. It feels like flicking between Tolstoy and Facebook on an iPad. This is perhaps intentional – the information age provides the novel with much to mourn, including our attention spans.

It's said that good satire should afflict the comfortable and comfort the afflicted. On finishing Super Sad True Love Story, you feel both bruised and consoled at once.

Sad Love Status Sad Love Quotes That Make You Cry Image Wallpaper Quotes Tumblr Poems Girl Photos

Sad Love Status Sad Love Quotes That Make You Cry Image Wallpaper Quotes Tumblr Poems Girl Photos

Sad Love Status Sad Love Quotes That Make You Cry Image Wallpaper Quotes Tumblr Poems Girl Photos

Sad Love Status Sad Love Quotes That Make You Cry Image Wallpaper Quotes Tumblr Poems Girl Photos

Sad Love Status Sad Love Quotes That Make You Cry Image Wallpaper Quotes Tumblr Poems Girl Photos

Sad Love Status Sad Love Quotes That Make You Cry Image Wallpaper Quotes Tumblr Poems Girl Photos

Sad Love Status Sad Love Quotes That Make You Cry Image Wallpaper Quotes Tumblr Poems Girl Photos

Sad Love Status Sad Love Quotes That Make You Cry Image Wallpaper Quotes Tumblr Poems Girl Photos

Sad Love Status Sad Love Quotes That Make You Cry Image Wallpaper Quotes Tumblr Poems Girl Photos

Sad Love Status Sad Love Quotes That Make You Cry Image Wallpaper Quotes Tumblr Poems Girl Photos

Sad Love Status Sad Love Quotes That Make You Cry Image Wallpaper Quotes Tumblr Poems Girl Photos

Sad Love Qoutes Biography

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I want to talk with you, hand in hand, along the soft and holding you tightly to me, as we softly caress to be into you, and you into me. To a depth neither wants controlled tasting you, sad love quotes and poems biography inhaling your breath as we kiss to love as we never knew. A love so caring, passionate, tender and true, As we lay on the soft sand. A special word for you and me, A special bond one cannot see me, Its rap us up in its coocon. Your special smile, Your special eyes, You'r are special for mine. i give your every thing you want but promise you are not alone with me. i cant't replace i love you and i always will for you filled a space no ne else can fill.
Women, have you had love? How was it told? With diamonds and brocades? Did he ever say he loved your moments of glad grace? Did he ever say: "My love is like a red, red rose that's newly sprung in June?" Women, you're red, red roses, you are. Blossom! Unfold! Open your corsets and bloom!
That's what love is like. It makes your heart race. It turns the world upside down. But if you're not careful, if you don't keep your eyes on something still, you can lose your balance. You can't see what's happening to the people around you. You can't see that you're about to fall.
I knew I was in love. First of all, I was very nauseous.
To be in love with a woman who scorns you is a problem; to be in love with a man who scorns you is a dilemma; but to be in love with your ex-wife is a tragedy.
When you fall in love, it is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake, and then it subsides. And when it subsides, you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots are become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the desire to mate every second of the day. It is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every part of your body. No...don't blush. I am telling you some truths. For that is just being in love; which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over, when being in love has burned away.Love makes its record in deeper colors as we grow out of childhood into manhood; as the Emperors signed their names in green ink when under age, but when of age, in purple.

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW, Table-Talk

Not the swart Pariah in some Indian grove,
Lone, lean, and hunted by his brother’s hate,
Hath drunk so deep the cup of bitter fate
As that poor wretch who cannot, cannot love:
He bears a load which nothing can remove,
A killing, withering weight.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY, "The Solitary"

One of the remarkable things about love is that, despite very irritating people writing poems and songs about how pleasant it is, it really is quite pleasant.

DANIEL HANDLER (as Lemony Snicket), Horseradish: Bitter Truths You Can't Avoid

Upon Love's bosom Earth floats like an Ark
Safely through all the Deluge of the dark.
GERALD MASSEY, "To My Wife"

Each moment of a happy lover's hour is worth an age of dull and common life.

APHRA BEHN, The Younger Brother

If a man can be properly said to love something, it must be clear that he feels affection for it as a whole, and does not love part of it to the exclusion of the rest.

PLATO, The Republic

Why does a man who is truly in love insist that this relationship must continue and be "lifelong"? Because life is pain and the enjoyment of love is an anesthetic. Who would want to wake up halfway through an operation?

CESARE PAVESE, This Business of Living, Jan. 19, 1938

Love is no hot-house flower, but a wild plant, born of a wet night, born of an hour of sunshine; sprung from wild seed, blown along the road by a wild wind. A wild plant that, when it blooms by chance within the hedge of our gardens, we call a flower; and when it blooms outside we call a weed; but, flower or weed, whose scent and colour are always wild!

JOHN GALSWORTHY, The Forsyte Saga

Love is made out of ecstasy and wonder;
Love is a poignant and accustomed pain.
It is a burst of Heaven-shaking thunder;
It is a linnet's fluting after rain.
JOYCE KILMER, "In Memory"

Love, from its awful throne of patient power
In the wise heart, from the last giddy hour
Of dread endurance, from the slippery, steep,
And narrow verge of crag-like agony, springs
And folds over the world its healing wings.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY, Prometheus Unbound

Love ... must come suddenly, with great thunderclaps and bolts of lightning -- a hurricane from heaven that drops down on your life, overturns it, tears away your will like a leaf, and carries your whole heart off with it into the abyss.

GUSTAVE FLAUBERT, Madame Bovary

How far above all price Love's costly wine,
Which can the meanest chalice make divine!
RICHARD CHENEVIX TRENCH, "Love"

Wherever love is, I want to be, I will follow it as surely as the land-locked salmon finds the sea.

JEANETTE WINTERSON, The Passion

Love is the bone and sinew of my curse.

SYLVIA PLATH, "The Stones," The Colossus and Other Poems

When you get in love you are made all over again. The person who loves you has picked you out of the great mass of uncreated clay which is humanity to make something out of, and the poor lumpish clay which is you wants to find out what it has been made into. But at the same time, you, in the act of loving somebody, become real, cease to be a part of the continuum of the uncreated clay and get the breath of life in you and rise up. So you create yourself by creating another person, who, however, has also created you, picked up the you-chunk of clay out of the mass. So there are two you's, the one you create by loving and the one the beloved creates by loving you. The farther those two you's are apart the more the world grinds and grudges on its axis. But if you loved and were loved perfectly then there wouldn't be any difference between the two you's or any distance between them. They would coincide perfectly, there would be perfect focus, as when a stereoscope gets the twin images on the card into perfect alignment.