If I said I was madly in love with you, I'd be lying and what's more, you'd know it.
Margaret MitchellRead
I'd cut up my heart for you to wear if you wanted it.
Interpretation
The quote expresses a deep love and willingness to sacrifice for another person.
In this poignant quote by Margaret Mitchell, the speaker conveys an intense emotional connection and the depth of love they feel for someone else. The imagery of cutting up one's heart symbolizes the willingness to sacrifice one's own well-being and essence for the happiness or desires of the loved one, suggesting that true love transcends personal pain and offers complete devotion.
In practice
This quote can be shared during a wedding speech to emphasize the depth of romantic love.
If I said I was madly in love with you, I'd be lying and what's more, you'd know it.
You're like the thief who isn't the least bit sorry he stole, but is terribly, terribly sorry he's going to jail. - Rhett Butler
It's a curse - this not wanting to look on naked realities. Until the war, life was never more real to me than a shadow show on a curtain. And I preferred it so. I do not like the outlines of things to be too sharp. I like them gently blurred, a little hazy.
Well, my dear, take heart. Some day, I will kiss you and you will like it. But not now, so I beg you not to be too impatient.
men are so conceited theyβll believe anything that flatters them
Oh, why was he so handsomely blond, so courteously aloof, so maddeningly boring with his talk about Europe and books and music and poetry and things that interested her not at all - and yet so desirable?
Medicine, you see, is my first love; whether I write fiction or nonfiction, and even when it has nothing to do with medicine, it's still about medicine. After all, what is medicine but life plus? So I write about life.
We need to put love back into the world remind the world that love is important. We're all one.
He felt now that he was not simply close to her, but that he did not know where he ended and she began.
Passion is the energy that love creates with no object other than itself.
There's something like a line of gold thread running through a man's words when he talks to his daughter, and gradually over the years it gets to be long enough for you to pick up in your hands and weave into a cloth that feels like love itself.
I do not love thee, Sabidius, nor can I say why; I can only say this, "I do not love thee."
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