Motivational Quotes

Love is often nothing but a favorable exchange between two people who get the most of what they can expect, considering their value on the personality market.

Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. [Roman 13:9]

Love is swift, sincere, pious, joyful, generous, strong, patient, faithful, prudent, long-suffering, courageous, and never seeking its own; for wheresoever a person seeketh his own, there he falleth from love.

The magic of first love is our ignorance that it can never end.

Self-love seems so often unrequited.

Friendship is constant in all other things Save in the office and affairs of love: Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues; Let every eye negotiate for itself, And trust no agent.

You are my lover and I am your mistress and kingdoms and empires and governments have tottered and succumbed before now to that mighty combination.

Like the measles, love is most dangerous when it comes late in life.

Maybe kissing is sort of like nature's coffee.

We who were loved will never unlive that crippling fever.

Immature love says: I love you because I need you. Mature love says: I need you because I love you.

Our affections as well as our bodies are in perpetual flux.

We can recognize the dawn and the decline of love by the uneasiness we feel when alone together.

Even as one heat another heat expels, or as one nail by strength drives out another, so the remembrance of my former love is by a newer object quite forgotten.

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

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

Is love supposed to last throughout all time, or is it like trains changing at random stops. If I loved her, how could I leave her? If I felt that way then, how come I don't feel anything now?

Love, while you are able to love.

As Plato sometimes speaks of the divine love, it arises not out of indigency, as created love does, but out of fullness and redundancy; it is an overflowing fountain, and that love which descends upon created being is a free efflux from the almighty source of love; and it is well pleasing to him that those creatures which he hath made should partake of it.

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.

Love, love, love -- all the wretched cant of it, masking egotism, lust, masochism, fantasy under a mythology of sentimental postures, a welter of self-induced miseries and joys, blinding and masking the essential personalities in the frozen gestures of courtship, in the kissing and the dating and the desire, the compliments and the quarrels which vivify its barrenness.

Love wholeheartedly, be surprised, give thanks and praise then you will discover the fullness of your life.

True love brings up everything - you're allowing a mirror to be held up to you daily.

It is easier to guard a sack full of fleas than a girl in love.

What else is love but understanding and rejoicing in the fact that another person lives, acts, and experiences otherwise than we doà?

Everyone of us needs to show how much we care for each other and, in the process, care for ourselves.

Such is the inconsistency of real love, that it is always awake to suspicion, however unreasonable; always requiring new assurances from the object of its interest.

It is easy to halve the potato where there is love.

Love is an emotion experienced by the many and enjoyed by the few.

Love feels no burden, regards not labors, strives toward more than it attains, argues not of impossibility, since it believes that it may and can do all things. Therefore it avails for all things, and fulfils and accomplishes much where one not a lover falls and lies helpless.

Our first and last love is... self-love.

Love means never having to say you're sorry.

This is my commandment, that ye love one another. [Jesus, In John 15:12]

Could you imagine how horrible things would be if we always told others how we felt? Life would be intolerably bearable.

The more one loves a mistress, the more one is ready to hate her.

Falling in love consists merely in uncorking the imagination and bottling the common-sense.

We don't believe in rheumatism and true love until after the first attack.

We don't always get to choose what we love.

The truth is that there is only one terminal dignity -- love. And the story of a love is not important -- what is important is that one is capable of love. It is perhaps the only glimpse we are permitted of eternity.

Love is like a poisonous mushroom -- you don't know if it is the real thing until it is too late

Women are often under the impression that men are much more madly in love with them than they really are.

Well, love is insanity. The ancient Greeks knew that. It is the taking over of a rational and lucid mind by delusion and self-destruction. You lose yourself, you have no power over yourself, you can't even think straight.

Before I met my husband, I'd never fallen in love, though I'd stepped in it a few times.

There's only one me, and I'm stuck with him.

Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies.

Today I begin to understand what love must be, if it exists. When we are parted, we each feel the lack of the other half of ourselves. We are incomplete like a book in two volumes of which the first has been lost. That is what I imagine love to be: incompleteness in absence.

Learning to love yourself is the greatest love of all.

A lover, when he is admitted to cards, ought to be solemnly silent, and observe the motions of his mistress. He must laugh when she laughs, sigh when she sighs. In short, he should be the shadow of her mind. A lady, in the presence of her lover, should never want a looking-glass; as a beau, in the presence of his looking-glass, never wants a mistress.

When you're a teenager and you're in love, it's obvious to everyone but you and the person you're in love with.

Love is like pi -- natural, irrational, and very important.

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