Marisa Crane

I’m slipping. I’m made of departed dreams and a stubborn fog that feels nothing like a veil.

It occurred to me that love, simply stated, is replacing the need to always be right with the need to be understanding.

I’m just a broken person looking for other broken people who may have gotten shards of me stuck in their feet and aren’t too concerned about pulling them out.

The Smiths dream into my ear on this lost and lonely morning. I sing along like it is the only prayer I know (forgive me, Mother Mary).

Loving him is like trying to hold onto an armful of balloons. Maybe I need someone to come along and pop them.

Are you using your pain as an excuse or as a source of strength?

I never thought love could be so deep, so wide, so open, so full, so elevating! Such a teacher! Thank you for teaching me, growing me, deepening me!!

I’m a wanderess, I’m a one night stand. Don’t belong to no city, don’t belong to no man.

The minute I heard my first love story I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was. Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along.

The love we shared is a paper town on a map we drew ourselves, drunk and fucked and needing to be more than we were.

O ’tis love, ’tis love, ’tis love that makes the world go round!

Love is a promise, love is a souvenir, once given never forgotten, never let it disappear.

I always loved you, and if one loves anyone, one loves the whole person, just as they are and not as one would like them to be. -Dolly (Anna Karenina)

When you make loving others the story of your life, there’s never a final chapter, because the legacy continues. You lend your light to one person, and he or she shines it on another and another and another. And I know for sure that in the final analysis of our lives- when the to-do lists are no more, when the frenzy is finished, when our e-mail inboxes are empty- the only thing that will have any lasting value is whether we’ve loved others and whether they’ve loved us.

Constancy in love is a good thing; but it means nothing, and is nothing, without constancy in every kind of effort.

He was afraid of defiling the love which filled his soul.

Everything is clearer when you’re in love.

My father, soft as rainclouds, my mother, hard as hail, prepared me to take the world by storm.

Jealousy, jealousy, jealousy, jealousy get the best of me.

“Any love makes us vulnerable. Whatever we love will give the gift of pain somewhere along the road. But who would live sealed in spiritual cellophane just to keep from ever being hurt? There are a few people like that. I’m sorry for them. I think they are as good as dead.” – Gladys Bagg Taber

I think… if it is true that there are as many minds as there are heads, then there are as many kinds of love as there are hearts.