Every time I think I'm missing a piece of me, you give it back.

You were the missing piece of my soul, the breath in my lungs, and the blood in my veins.

"Well, it's true that I have been hurt in my life. Quite a bit. But it's also true that I have loved, and been loved. and that carries a weight of its own. A greater weight, in my opinion. It's like that pie chart we talked about earlier. in the end, I'll look back on my life and see that the greatest piece of it

Heartbreak is a loss. Divorce is a piece of paper.

I want to try making things right because picking up the pieces is way better than leaving them the way they are.

I love you," he whispered, and that was the moment he knew what he was going to do. When you loved someone, you put their needs before your own. No matter how inconceivable those needs were; no matter how fucked up; no matter how much it made you feel like you were ripping yourself into pieces.

Don't leave a piece of jewelry at his house so you can go back and get it later; he may be with his real girlfriend.

Then, one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...you give them a piece of you. They don't ask for it. They do something dumb one day like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore.

She is a friend of my mind. She gather me, man. The pieces I am, she gather them and give them back to me in all the right order.

The greatest disease in the West today is not TB or leprosy; it is being unwanted, unloved, and uncared for. We can cure physical diseases with medicine, but the only cure for loneliness, despair, and hopelessness is love. There are many in the world who are dying for a piece of bread but there are many more dying for a little love. The poverty in the West is a different kind of poverty -- it is not only a poverty of loneliness but also of spirituality. There's a hunger for love, as there is a hunger for God.

We are all the pieces of what we remember. We hold in ourselves the hopes and fears of those who love us. As long as there is love and memory, there is no true loss.

In a perfect world, you could fuck people without giving them a piece of your heart. And every glittering kiss and every touch of flesh is another shard of heart you'll never see again.

Anyone who falls in love is searching for the missing pieces of themselves. So anyone who's in love gets sad when they think of their lover. It's like stepping back inside a room you have fond memories of, one you haven't seen in a long time.

Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.

No relationship is perfect, ever. There are always some ways you have to bend, to compromise, to give something up in order to gain something greater...The love we have for each other is bigger than these small differences. And that's the key. It's like a big pie chart, and the love in a relationship has to be the biggest piece. Love can make up for a lot.

I guess we all like to be recognized not for one piece of fireworks but for the ledger of our daily work.

When love and skill work together expect a masterpiece.

One of the greatest pieces of economic wisdom is to know what you do not know.

The most solid piece of scientific truth I know of is that we are profoundly ignorant about nature.

Rumi who is one of the greatest Persian poets said that the truth was a mirror in the hands of God. It fell and broke into pieces. Everybody took a piece of it and they looked at it and thought they had the truth.

Let a man get up and say Behold this is the truth and instantly I perceive a sandy cat filching a piece of fish in the background. Look you have forgotten the cat I say.

There are few things in which we deceive ourselves more than in the esteem we profess to entertain for our firends. It is little better than a piece of quackery. The truth is we think of them as we please that is as they please or displease us.

Nothing is beautiful only man: on this piece of naivete rests all aesthetics it is the first truth of aesthetics. Let us immediately add its second: nothing is ugly but degenerate man - the domain of aesthetic judgment is therewith defined.

A careful inspection showed them that even if they succeeded in righting it by themselves the cart would travel no longer. The axles were in a hopeless state and the missing wheel was shattered into pieces.