If I said I was madly in love with you, I'd be lying and what's more, you'd know it.
Margaret MitchellRead
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?
Interpretation
The quote reflects a sense of longing and frustration in attraction to someone who is both captivating and boring.
In this quote, Margaret Mitchell explores the complexity of attraction, where physical appeal and charm can captivate someone even if the individual’s interests do not resonate. The juxtaposition of the character's allure against a backdrop of perceived dullness reveals the intricate nature of desire, where emotional connection can often override intellectual compatibility.
In practice
This quote can be used in a discussion about the intricacies of relationships in a literature class.
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 they’ll believe anything that flatters them
All really nice girls wonder when men don't try to kiss them. They know they shouldn't want them to and they know they must act insulted if they do, but just the same, they wish the men would try.
To pay compliments to the one we love is the first method of caressing, a demi-audacity venturing. A compliment is something like a kiss through a veil.
Today I believe in the possibility of love; that is why I endeavor to trace its imperfections, its perversions.
Then again, you cannot stop the flood of desire as it moves through the world, inappropriate though it may sometimes be. It is the prerogative of all humans to make ludicrous choices, to fall in love with the most unlikely of partners, and to set themselves up for the most predicatable of calamities.
I think, am sure, a brother's love exceeds_x000D_ _x000D_ All the world's loves in its unworldliness.
Poets are the only people to whom love is not only a crucial, but an indispensable experience, which entitles them to mistake it for a universal one.
We, unaccustomed to courage_x000D_ _x000D_ exiles from delight_x000D_ _x000D_ live coiled in shells of loneliness_x000D_ _x000D_ until love leaves its high holy temple_x000D_ _x000D_ and comes into our sight_x000D_ _x000D_ to liberate us into life.
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