There is always something left to love. — Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude
There is always something left to love. — Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude
There is always something left to love. — Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude
There is always something left to love. — Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude
There is always something left to love. — Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude
Download Customize

There is always something left to love.

— Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude
Pin Share Tweet Telegram
Topics
love

More “Love” Quotes

She was trying to sound tough and impatient, but she knew that vulnerable desire to be wooed was still brimming in her t — Anna Godbersen, Envy
The world yearns. This is its sure gravity: the attraction of bodies. Earth for molten star. Moon for earth. A hand for — Alison MacLeod, Wave Theory of Angels
How we need that security. How we need another soul to cling to, another body to keep us warm. To rest and trust; to giv — Sylvia Plath
...he was conscious of the disastrous fact that love and desire must be expressed in the same way... — Albert Camus, A Happy Death
What was he? A mere human, stuck between the rungs of blended adolescence and nascent adulthood. What power did he comma — Faraaz Kazi
Peter Wessel and Peter Van Daan have grown into one Peter, who is beloved and good, and for whom I long desperately. — Anne Frank, The Diary of a Young Girl
With every step I took away from her, the movement at my heart and between my legs grew more defined: I felt like a vent — Sarah Waters, Tipping the Velvet
He desired her and, so far as her virginal emotions went, she contemplated a surrender with equanimity. Yet she knew she — F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender Is the Night
I reached for her, pushing back the fall of hair-it was heavy and thick and smooth to the touch-and tilted her chin so t — Geraldine Brooks, March
I do not mind when you tell me what you want and put that first instead of last. — John Scalzi, The Sagan Diary
Part those sheetslike holy watersand I will worship you skinlike a born-againbeliever. — Tyler Knott Gregson, Chasers of the Light: Poems from the Typewriter Series
And yet, about two weeks after his arrival, all I wanted every night was for him to leave his room, not via its front do — André Aciman, Call Me by Your Name