He wasn't the type for displays of affection, either verbal or not. He was disgusted by couples that made out in the hallways between classes, and got annoyed at even the slightest sappy moments in movies. But I knew he cared about me: he just conveyed it more subtly, as concise with expressing this emotion as he was with everything else. It was in the way he'd put his hand on the small of my back, for instance, or how he'd smile at me when I said something that surprised him. Once I might have wanted more, but I'd come around to his way of thinking in the time we'd been together. And we were together, all the time. So he didn't have to prove how he felt about me. Like so much else, I should just know.

We are not people who touch each other carelessly; every point of contact between us feels important, a rush of energy and relief.

Oh, Lizzy! do anything rather than marry without affection.

Had I been in love, I could not have been more wretchedly blind. But vanity, not love, has been my folly.

I am not sure if women are attracted to genius. Can you imagine the wise wizard winning the woman over the gallant swordsman? It seems rather otherworldly in more ways than one.

We men are fascinated by the things we don't really understand. It gives us something to think and talk about: like females, they drive us nuts.

My love for you is passionate and strong.

True love is deep spiritual affection.

He liked to like people, therefore people liked him.

The hardest of all is learning to be a well of affection, and not a fountain, to show them that we love them, not when we feel like it, but when they do. -Nan Fairbrothernot of wasted affection, affection never was wasted, If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters, returning Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them full of refreshment; That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain.

Talk not of wasted affection, affection never was wasted; If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters, returning Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them full of refreshment; That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain.

The affections cannot keep their youth any more than men.

Praise is well, compliment is well, but affection-that is the last and final and most precious reward that any man can win, whether by character or achievement.

Human nature is so constructed that it gives affection most readily to those who seem least to demand it.

A mixture of admiration and pity is one of the surest recipes for affection.

Affection is created by habit, community of interests, convenience and the desire of companionship. It is a comfort rather than an exhilaration.

One must not be mean with affections; what is spent of the funds is renewed in the spending itself. Left untouched for too long, they diminish imperceptibly or the lock gets rusty; they are there all right but one cannot make use of them.

Whatever pretext we may give for our affections, often it is only interest and vanity which cause them.

Most affections are habits or duties we lack the courage to end.

We are uneasy with an affectionate man, for we are positive he wants something of us, particularly our love.