Motivational Quotes

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

Once you have learned to love, You will have learned to live.

To be able to say how much love, is love but little.

If that the world and love were young, And truth in every shepherd's tongue, These pretty pleasures might me move To live with thee and be thy love.

In every question and every remark tossed back and forth between lovers who have not played out the last fugue, there is one question and it is this: Is there someone new?

True love means two seeds grow separately until they join in Matrimony forever.

Lord, grant that I might not so much seek to be loved as to love.

Clarity of mind means clarity of passion, too; this is why a great and clear mind loves ardently and sees distinctly what it loves.

Love, while you are able to 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.

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.

I do not think that what is called Love at first sight is so great an absurdity as it is sometimes imagined to be. We generally make up our minds beforehand to the sort of person we should like, grave or gay, black, brown, or fair; with golden tresses or raven locks; -- and when we meet with a complete example of the qualities we admire, the bargain is soon struck.

Love's best habit is a soothing tongue.

Only the words of love kept alive are worthy of not being wasted

Love is what is left in a relationship after all the selfishness is taken out.

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

If you love something let it go free. If it doesn't come back, you never had it. If it comes back, love it forever.

Loving people live in a loving world. Hostile people live in a hostile world. Same world.

Love without attachment is light.

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.

The hottest love has the coldest end.

If we love our country, we should also love our countrymen.

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.

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.

Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish it's source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of withering, of tarnishing.

Learning to love yourself is the greatest love of all.

I love a hand that meets my own with a grasp that causes some sensation.

There is no pain equal to that which two lovers can inflict on one another. This should be made clear to all who contemplate such a union. The avoidance of this pain is the beginning of wisdom, for it is strong enough to contaminate the rest of our lives.

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

Those whom true love has held, it will go on holding.

If love is shelter, I'm going to walk in the rain.

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.

My love admits no qualifying dross.

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

Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction.

At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet.

Everyone admits that love is wonderful and necessary, yet no one agrees on just what it is.

The desire for possession is insatiable, to such a point that it can survive even love itself. To love, therefore, is to sterilize the person one loves.

The love of liberty is the love of others; the love of power is the love of ourselves. We cannot force 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.

Nothing takes the taste out of peanut butter quite like unrequited love.

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.

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

An affair wants to spill, to share its glory with the world. No act is so private it does not seek applause.

To love one person with a private love is poor and miserable: to love all is glorious.

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.

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

When you interact with another, an illusion is part of this dynamic. This illusion allows each soul to perceive what it needs to understands in order to heal.

In love, there is always one who kisses and one who offers the cheek.

There is no remedy for love than to love more.

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