Motivational Quotes

We will invent new lullabies, new songs, new acts of love, we will cry over things we used to laugh and our new wisdom will bring tears to eyes of gentle creatures from other planets who were afraid of us till then and in the end a summer with wild winds and new friends will be.

The more connections you and your lover make, not just between your bodies, but between your minds, your hearts, and your souls, the more you will strengthen the fabric of your relationship, and the more real moments you will experience together.

The rose speaks of love silently, in a language known only to the heart.

Love ever gives. Forgives outlives. And ever stands with open hands. And while it lives, it gives. For this is love's prerogatives -- to give, and give, and give.

Never try to define love. Once defined love is confined. Once confined -- It dies.

She hadn't chosen him over all the others. The truth was that she hadn't even thought about anyone else.

We cease loving ourselves if no one loves us.

We are never so defenseless against suffering as when we love, never so forlornly unhappy as when we have lost our love object or its love.

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.

Self-love seems so often unrequited.

Do everything with so much love in your heart that you would never want to do it any other way.

The love of those we don't love in return settles on the surface and from there quickly evaporates.

Love and stoplights can be cruel.

Wicked men obey from fear; good men, from love.

There exists, between people in love, a kind of capital held by each. This is not just a stock of affects or pleasure, but also the possibility of playing double or quits with the share you hold in the other's heart.

The snow goose need not bathe to make itself white. Neither need you do anything but be yourself.

Love is what you've been through with somebody.

Some relationships start with fights... But, usually only in romantic comedies. Life's not the movies.

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

Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song, A medley of extemporanea; And love is a thing that can never go wrong; And I am Marie of Romania.

Maybe kissing is sort of like nature's coffee.

Love was as subtly caught, as a disease; But being got it is a treasure sweet, which to defend is harder than to get: And ought not be profaned on either part, for though 'Tis got by chance,'Tis kept by art.

Love is a tyrant sparing none.

We love because it's the only true adventure.

There is no disguise that can for long conceal love where it exists or simulate it where it does not.

Love is not the dying moan of a distant violin-it's the triumphant twang of a bedspring.

In this life we cannot do great things. We can only do small things with great love

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

LOVE, the feeling, is the fruit of LOVE, the verb.

Love is like quicksilver in the hand. Leave the fingers open and it stays. Clutch is, and it darts away.

A man has only one escape from his old self: to see a different self in the mirror of some woman's eyes.

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

One seeks to make the loved one entirely happy, or, if that cannot be, entirely wretched.

Everything comes to us from others. To Be is to belong to someone.

The one who loves least controls the relationship.

Fantastic tyrant of the amorous heart. How hard thy yoke, how cruel thy dart. Those escape your anger who refuse your sway, and those are punished most, who most obey.

To be brave is to love someone unconditionally, without expecting anything in return. To just give. That takes courage, because we don't want to fall on our faces or leave ourselves open to hurt.

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.

It is easier to keep half a dozen lovers guessing than to keep one lover after he has stopped guessing.

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.

We know that we have passed from death into life, because we love... [1 John 3:14]

For where there is true love, a man is neither out of measure lifted up by prosperity, nor cast down by mishap; whether you give or take away from him, so long as he keeps his beloved, he has a spring of inward peace. Thus, even though thy outward man grieve, or weep downright, that may well be borne, if only thy inner man remain at peace, perfectly content with the will of God.

Live for love. Without love, you don't live.

The spiritualization of sensuality is called love: it is a great triumph over Christianity.

He who is in love is wise and is becoming wiser, sees newly every time he looks at the object beloved, drawing from it with his eyes and his mind those virtues which it possesses.

Love is blind, and lovers cannot see the pretty follies that themselves commit.

The perversity of the human spirit is such that when a young lady longs for one specific partner, every other partner counts for nothing.

Sometimes when you look back on a situation, you realize it wasn't all you thought it was. A beautiful girl walked into your life. You fell in love. Or did you? Maybe it was only a childish infatuation, or maybe just a brief moment of vanity.

Love, by its very nature, is unworldly, and it is for this reason rather than its rarity that it is not only apolitical but anti-political, perhaps the most powerful of all anti-political human forces.

The man who has never made a fool of himself in love will never be wise in love.

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