Motivational Quotes

Love isn't a decision. It's a feeling. If we could decide who we loved, it would be much simpler, but much less magical.

Love is all you need.

I fell in love with the thought that a human life could be a priestly conduit, a connecting link between earth and sky. As I grew and stumbled and, most important, as I began to love and be loved, I realized that the ultimate priest is the lover inside us

Love is the river of life in the world.

Love must be as much a light, as it is a flame.

Love all, trust a few. Do wrong to none.

What is love? It is the morning and the evening star.

Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own.

Love is the irresistible desire to be desired irresistibly.

Love talked about is easily turned aside, but love demonstrated is irresistible.

True love is the parent of humility.

If they love they know not why, they hate upon no better ground, they hate upon no better a ground.

A man in love is like a clipped coupon -- it's time to cash in.

We love in another's soul whatever of ourselves we can deposit in it; the greater the deposit, the greater the love.

I am a big believer in the mirror test. All that matters is if you can look in the mirror and honestly tell the person you see there, that you've done your best.

Real love stories never have endings.

He who is not impatient is not in love.

Self-love seems so often unrequited.

Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boist'rous, and it pricks like a thorn.

Saddest Poem

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

Write, for instance: The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance.

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like this, I held her in my arms. I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.

To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.

What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.

As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.

The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.

Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.

Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.

Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her.

Many people when they fall in love look for a little haven of refuge from the world, where they can be sure of being admired when they are not admirable, and praised when they are not praiseworthy.

Love is what we are born with. Fear is what we learn. The spiritual journey is the unlearning of fear and prejudices and the acceptance of love back in our hearts. Love is the essential reality and our purpose on earth. To be consciously aware of it, to experience love in ourselves and others, is the meaning of life. Meaning does not lie in things. Meaning lies in us.

There is no remedy for love than to love more.

Things base and vile, holding no quantity, love can transpose to form and dignity.

Life's greatest happiness is to be convinced we are loved.

To an ordinary human being, love means nothing if it does not mean loving some people more than others.

Neither a lofty degree of intelligence nor imagination nor both together go to the making of genius. Love, love, love, that is the soul of genius.

Love is an exploding cigar we willingly smoke.

Darkness can not drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.

Love is a given, hatred is acquired.

When first we met we did not guess that Love would prove so hard a master.

I was nauseous and tingly all over. I was either in love or I had smallpox.

The idea that nations should love one another, or that business concerns or marketing boards should love one another, or that a man in Portugal should love a man in Peru of whom he has never heard --it is absurd, unreal, dangerous. The fact is we can only love what we know personally. And we cannot know much.

To love without role, without power plays, is revolution.

We who were loved will never unlive that crippling fever.

To fall in love is easy, even to remain in it is not difficult; our human loneliness is cause enough. But is a hard quest worth making to find a comrade through whose steady presence one becomes steadily the person one desires to be.

We are shaped and fashioned by what we love.

If somebody says, I love you, to me, I feel as though I had a pistol pointed at my head. What can anybody reply under such conditions but that which the pistol-holder requires? I love you, too.

The fickleness of the women I love is only equaled by the infernal constancy of the women who love me.

But the strong base and building of my love is as the very centre of the earth, drawing all things to it.

Do you want to know a good way to fall in love? Just associate with all your pleasant experiences with someone, and disassociate from all the unpleasant ones.

You will always have to live with yourself, and it is to your best interest to see that you have good company -- a clean, pure, straight, honest, upright, generous, magnanimous companion.

Love possesses not nor will it be possessed, for love is sufficient unto love.

The value of love will always be stronger than the value of hate.. Any nation or group of nations which employs hatred eventually is torn to pieces by hatred...

It's unthinkable not to love --you'd have a severe nervous breakdown. Or you'd have to be Philip Larkin.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments: love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds.

Listen! Encourage. Say something. Do something. Be yourself. Love

If you aren't good at loving yourself, you will have a difficult time loving anyone, since you'll resent the time and energy you give another person that you aren't even giving to yourself.

A proof that experience is of no use, is that the end of one love does not prevent us from beginning another.

A bizarre sensation pervades a relationship of pretense. No truth seems true. A simple morning's greeting and response appear loaded with innuendo and fraught with implications. Each nicety becomes more sterile and each withdrawal more permanent.

The wisdom of the wise, and the experience of ages, may be preserved by Motivational Quotes.