Motivational Quotes

Love feels no burden, thinks nothing of trouble, attempts what is above its strength.... It is therefore able to undertake all things, and it completes many things, and warrants them to take effect, where he who does not love would faint and lie down.

The enthusiasm of a woman's love is even beyond the biographer's.

Love is not blind -- it sees more, not less. But because it sees more, it is willing to see less.

O, how this spring of love resembleth the uncertain glory of an April day!

One can be a soldier without dying, and a lover without sighing.

Learning to love yourself is the greatest love of all.

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

There's beggary in the love that can be reckon'd.

You can't love anyone until you understand that you can't love everyone.

It makes no difference how deeply seated may be the trouble, how hopeless the outlook, how muddled the tangle, how great the mistake. A sufficient realization of love will dissolve it all.

Love all that has been created by God, both the whole and every grain of sand. Love every leaf and every ray of light. Love the beasts and the birds, love the plants, love every separate fragment. If you love each fragment, you will understand the mystery of the whole resting in God.

Someday, after mastering winds, waves, tides and gravity, we shall harness the energy of love; and for the second time in the history of the world, man will have discovered fire.

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

When a man and a woman have an overwhelming passion for each other, it seems to me, in spite of such obstacles dividing them as parents or husband, that they belong to each other in the name of Nature, and are lovers by Divine right, in spite of human convention or the laws.

Love's greatest gift is its ability to make everything it touches sacred.

It is at the edge of a petal that love waits.

Love is made by two people, in different kinds of solitude. It can be in a crowd, but in an oblivious crowd.

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.

You talk too much, you laugh too loud, that's the price of love.

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?

Where love is concerned, too much is not even enough.

But love is blind and lovers cannot see The pretty follies that themselves commit; For if they could, Cupid himself would blush To see me thus transformed to a boy.

Love is everything it's cracked up to beàIt really is worth fighting for, being brave for, risking everything for.

Love is life. All, everything that I understand, I understand only because I love. Everything is, everything exists, only because I love. Everything is united by it alone. Love is God, and to die means that I, a particle of love, shall return to the general and eternal source.

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

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

Love the art in yourself and not yourself in the art.

Love is only the game that is not called on account of darkness.

One's first love is always perfect until one meets one's second love.

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 is a better teacher than duty.

I met in the street a very poor young man who was in love. His hat was old, his coat worn, his cloak was out at the elbows, the water passed through his shoes -- and the stars through his soul.

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

Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clime, nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.

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

If we discovered we only had five minutes left to say all we wanted to say, every telephone booth would be occupied by people telling other people that they loved them.

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.

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

Who is wise in love, love most, say least.

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

He that loveth not knoweth not God; for God is love. [I John]

To love and be loved is the great happiness of existence.

Age does not protect you from love. But love, to some extent, protects you from age.

Well-ordered self-love is right and natural.

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

Love is the ability and willingness to allow those that you care for to be what they choose for themselves, without any insistence that they satisfy you.

One who has not only the four S's, which are required in every good lover, but even the whole alphabet; as for example... Agreeable, Bountiful, Constant, Dutiful, Easy, Faithful, Gallant, Honorable, Ingenious, Kind, Loyal, Mild, Noble, Officious, Prudent, Quiet, Rich, Secret, True, Valiant, Wise; the X indeed, is too harsh a letter to agree with him, but he is Young and Zealous.

If love is the answer, could you please rephrase the question?

Against love's fire fear's frost hath dissolution.

What is the main thing in love? to know and to hide. To know about the one you love and to hide that you love. At times the hiding (shame) overpowers the knowing (passion). The passion for the hidden -- the passion for the revealed.

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