Motivational Quotes

Love is not altogether a delirium, yet it has many points in common therewith.

O, then, what graces in my love do dwell, that he hath turn'd a heaven unto hell!

I like not only to be loved, but also to be told that I am loved. I am not sure that you are of the same kind. But the realm of silence is large enough beyond the grave. This is the world of literature and speech and I shall take leave to tell you that you are very dear.

But miserable most, to love unloved? This you should pity rather than despise.

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

Love is a force more formidable than any other. It is invisible -- it cannot be seen or measured, yet it is powerful enough to transform you in a moment, and offer you more joy than any material possession could.

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

To love one child and to love all children, whether living or dead --somewhere these two loves come together. To love a no-good but humble punk and to love an honest man who believes himself to be an honest man --somewhere these, too, come together.

It is a beautiful trait in the lovers character, that they think no evil of the object loved.

Lovers are fools, but Nature makes them so.

Love matches are made by people who are content, for a month of honey, to condemn themselves to a life of vinegar.

It is wrong to think that love comes from long companionship and persevering courtship. Love is the offspring of spiritual affinity and unless that affinity is created in a moment, it will not be created for years or even generations.

By heaven, I do love: and it hath taught me to rhyme, and to be mekancholy.

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

Perdition catch my soul, but I do love thee! and when I love thee not, Chaos is come again.

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

There is a voice inside which speaks and says: This is the real me!

To love someone is to isolate him from the world, wipe out every trace of him, dispossess him of his shadow, drag him into a murderous future. It is to circle around the other like a dead star and absorb him into a black light.

Love is an ocean of emotions entirely surrounded by expenses.

The sweetest joy, the wildest woe is love.

And ruin'd love when it is built anew, Grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater.

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.

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

When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes... Haply I think on thee, and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate; For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

It is difficult to lay aside a confirmed passion.

Let the lover be disgraceful, crazy, absent-minded. Someone sober will worry about events going badly. Let the lover be.

Man's love is of man's life a part; it is a woman's whole existence. In her first passion, a woman loves her lover, in all the others all she loves is love.

Love is what happens to a man and woman who don't know each other.

Only from the heart Can you touch the sky.

The Impossible Generalized Man today is the critic who believes in loving those unworthy of love as well as those worthy --yet believes this only insofar as no personal risk is entailed. Meaning he loves no one, worthy or no. This is what makes him impossible.

Love is the joy of the good, the wonder of the wise, the amazement of the Gods.

One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life: That word is love.

We cease loving ourselves if no one loves us.

Love is, above all else, the gift of oneself.

He who falls in love with himself will have no rivals.

But I always think that the best way to know God is to love many things.

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

Love cures people -- both the ones who give it and the ones who receive it.

Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin as self-neglecting.

If you have it [Love], you don't need to have anything else, and if you don't have it, it doesn't matter much what else you have.

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.

Love is the delusion that one man or woman differs from another.

You make me understand how wonderful it is for little lizards when they find that one special rock that's perfect for sunning themselves on. You make me lizard-happy.

People who do not love themselves can adore others, because adoration is making someone else big and ourselves small. They can desire others, because desire comes out of a sense of inner incompleteness, which demands to be filled. But they can not love others, because love is an affirmation of the living growing being in all of us. If you don't have it, you can't give 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 can neither be bought or sold, its only price is love.

I always like a good math solution to any love problem.

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.

Alas, their love may be call'd appetite. No motion of the liver, but the palate.

Never pretend to a love which you do not actually feel, for love is not ours to command.

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