Motivational Quotes

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.

One does not fall in love; one grows into love, and love grows in him.

Love is like a poisonous mushroom -- you don't know if it is the real thing until it is too late

It's unthinkable not to love --you'd have a severe nervous breakdown. Or you'd have to be Philip Larkin.

No woman marries for money; they are all clever enough, before marrying a millionaire, to fall in love with him first.

Love's best habit is a soothing tongue.

If you cannot inspire a woman with love of you, fill her above the brim with love of herself; all that runs over will be yours.

Whenever you are confronted with an opponent. Conquer him with love.

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

To love is to place our happiness in the happiness of another.

In love, unlike most other passions, the recollection of what you have had and lost is always better than what you can hope for in the future.

Love consists not in feeling great things but in having great detachment and in suffering for the Beloved.

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.

Self-love is the instrument of our preservation.

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.

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

Accept yourself as you are. Otherwise you will never see opportunity. You will not feel free to move toward it; you will feel you are not deserving.

The supreme happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved; loved for ourselves, or rather in spite of ourselves.

Love and stoplights can be cruel.

My love admits no qualifying dross.

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

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

I adore him I have never been so happy. I have real love.

It is difficult to lay aside a confirmed passion.

Love alone could waken love.

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.

If I love you Wednesday, What is that to you? I do not love you Thursday -- so much is true.

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

The only victory over love is flight.

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.

Love is a ocean of emotions entirely surrounded by expenses.

Love is the master key which opens the gates of happiness.

If we are to judge of love by its consequences, it more nearly resembles hatred than friendship.

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

An act of love that fails is just as much a part of the divine life as an act of love that succeeds, for love is measured by fullness, not by reception.

To dream of the person you would like to be is to waste the person you are.

Dive deep, O mind, dive deep in the ocean of God's beauty! If you descend to the uttermost depths, there you will find the gem of love.

A supreme love, a motive that gives a sublime rhythm to a woman's life, and exalts habit into partnership with the soul's highest needs, is not to be had where and how she wills.

Love the giver more than the gift.

Love is, above all, the gift of oneself.

For one human being to love another: that is perhaps the most difficult of all our tasks, the ultimate, the last test and proof, the work for which all other work is but preparation.

Friendship is constant in all other things Save in the office and affairs of love: Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues; Let every eye negotiate for itself, And trust no agent.

Mistresses are like books; if you pore upon them too much, they doze you and make you unfit for company; but if used discreetly, you are the fitter for conversation by em.

The more you like yourself, the less you are like anyone else, which makes you unique.

Is it not by love alone that we succeed in penetrating to the very essence of being?

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

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.

I fell in love with the thought that a human life could be a priestly conduit, a connecting link between earth and sky. As I grew and stumbled and, most important, as I began to love and be loved, I realized that the ultimate priest is the lover inside us

We always come back to our first love.

Know the self to be sitting in the chariot, the body to be the chariot, the intellect the charioteer, and the mind the reins.

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