Motivational Quotes

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.

To try to write love is to confront the muck of language: that region of hysteria where language is both too much and too little, excessive and impoverished.

To fall in love is to create a religion that has a fallible god.

If we seek the pleasures of love, passion should be occasional, and common sense continual.

Love is an irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired.

As love without esteem is capricious and volatile; esteem without love is languid and cold.

What's terrible is to pretend that the second-rate is first-rate, that you don't need love when you do or that you like your work when you know quite well you're capable of better.

There's an evolutionary imperative why we give a crap about our family and friends. And there's an evolutionary imperative why we don't give a crap about anybody else. If we loved all people indiscriminately, we couldn't function.

We love but once, for once only are we perfectly equipped for loving.

God loves each of us as if there were only one of us.

We cease loving ourselves if no one loves us.

The important thing was to love rather than to be loved.

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.

Love shall be our token; love be yours and love be mine.

Those that embrace the entire universe with love, for the most part love nothing, but their narrow selves.

Lovers may be -- and indeed generally are -- enemies, but they never can be friends, because there must always be a spice of jealousy and a something of Self in all their speculations.

I try to give to the poor people for love what the rich could get for money. No, I wouldn't touch a leper for a thousand pounds; yet I willingly cure him for the love of God.

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

Love is shown in your deeds, not in your words.

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.

They do not love that do not show their love. The course of true love never did run smooth. Love is a familiar. Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but Love.

If only one could tell true love from false love as one can tell mushrooms from toadstools.

He [Freud] often said three things were impossible to fulfill completely; healing, education, governing. He limited his goals in analytic treatment to brining the patient to the point where he could work for a living and learn to love.

Love is patient and kind; love is not jealous or boastful; it is not arrogant or rude. [I Corinthians]

Love is a chain of love as nature is a chain of life.

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

Nuptial love makes mankind; friendly love perfects it; but wanton love corrupts and debases it.

This world is not for aye, nor'tis not strange That even our loves should with our fortunes change. For'tis a question left us yet to prove, Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love.

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

Perhaps the old monks were right when they tried to root love out; perhaps the poets are right when they try to water it. It is a blood-red flower, with the color of sin; but there is always the scent of a god about it.

Love is something eternal; the aspect may change, but not the essence.

If you could only love enough, you could be the most powerful person in the world.

What makes lovers never tire of one another is that they talk always about themselves.

Self-love for ever creeps out, like a snake, to sting anything which happens to stumble upon it.

What then in love can woman do? If we grow fond they shun us. And when we fly them, they pursue: But leave us when they've won us.

All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer, with sighs of love, that costs the fresh blood dear.

A good relationship is like fireworks: loud, explosive, and liable to maim you if you hold on too long.

'Light fuse and get away'may work for a Roman candle, but not so much for the wrath of a woman scorned.

Love comes when manipulation stops; when you think more about the other person than about his or her reactions to you. When you dare to reveal yourself fully. When you dare to be vulnerable.

People who are sensible about love are incapable of it.

Let the first impulse pass, wait for the second.

Love alone can unite living beings so as to complete and fulfill them... for it alone joins them by what is deepest in themselves. All we need is to imagine our ability to love developing until it embraces the totality of men and the earth.

Love touched her heart, and lo! It beats high, and burns with such brave hearts.

Love is the immortal flow of energy that nourishes, extends and preserves. Its eternal goal is life.

Love is the affinity which links and draws together the elements of the world... Love, in fact, is the agent of universal synthesis.

When love is in excess it brings a man no honor nor worthiness.

A woman who could always love would never grow old; and the love of mother and wife would often give or preserve many charms if it were not too often combined with parental and conjugal anger. There remains in the face of women who are naturally serene and peaceful, and of those rendered so by religion, an after-spring, and later an after-summer, the reflex of their most beautiful bloom.

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

Love is a friendship set to music.

I will wear my heart upon my sleeve for daws to peck at.

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