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.

I've only been in love with a beer bottle and a mirror.

Love talked about is easily turned aside, but love demonstrated is irresistible.

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

At the center of non-violence stands the principle of love.

We love those who admire us, but not those whom we admire.

Frustrated love has been the incentive for many great works.

We will invent new lullabies, new songs, new acts of love, we will cry over things we used to laugh and our new wisdom will bring tears to eyes of gentle creatures from other planets who were afraid of us till then and in the end a summer with wild winds and new friends will be.

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

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.

You couldn't get a clue during the clue mating season in a field full of horny clues if you smeared your body with clue musk and did the clue mating dance.

It is difficult to know at what moment love begins; it is less difficult to know that it has begun.

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.

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

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

In this life we cannot do great things. We can only do small things with great love

To love another person is to see the face of God. [Les Miserables]

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

Love is the bridge between two hearts.

Love is not enough. It must be the foundation, the cornerstone -- but not the complete structure. It is much too pliable, too yielding.

Romantic love, in pornography as in life, is the mythic celebration of female negation. For a woman, love is defined as her willingness to submit to her own annihilation. The proof of love is that she is willing to be destroyed by the one whom she loves, for his sake. For the woman, love is always self-sacrifice, the sacrifice of identity, will, and bodily integrity, in order to fulfill and redeem the masculinity of her lover.

The fickleness of the women I love is only equaled by the infernal constancy of the women who love me.

I argue thee that love is life. And life hath immortality.

Women wish to be loved not because they are pretty, or good, or well bred, or graceful, or intelligent, but because they are themselves.

It is easy to halve the potato where there is love.

The one who loves least controls the relationship.

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

Let no one believe that he has received the divine kiss, if he knows the truth without loving it or loves it without understanding it. But blessed is that kiss whereby not only is God recognized but also the Father is loved; for there is never full knowledge without perfect love.

It is not love that should be depicted as blind, but self-love.

Love is often nothing but a favorable exchange between two people who get the most of what they can expect, considering their value on the personality market.

Sure I love Goldie. How could you not love Goldie? Everyone loves Goldie. I love her, and I hope our love will continue, but I don't want to give an I-love-Goldie-Hawn interview.

Above the cloud with its shadow is the star with its light. Above all things reverence thyself.

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

Could you imagine how horrible things would be if we always told others how we felt? Life would be intolerably bearable.

The idea that nations should love one another, or that business concerns or marketing boards should love one another, or that a man in Portugal should love a man in Peru of whom he has never heard --it is absurd, unreal, dangerous. The fact is we can only love what we know personally. And we cannot know much.

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.

One would always want to think of oneself as being on the side of love, ready to recognize it and wish it well --but, when confronted with it in others, one so often resented it, questioned its true nature, secretly dismissed the particular instance as folly or promiscuity. Was it merely jealousy, or a reluctance to admit so noble and enviable a sentiment in anyone but oneself?

Busy old fool, unruly Sun, why dost thou thus through windows and through curtains call on us? Must to thy motions lovers seasons run?

No one worth possessing can be quite possessed.

The root of the matter the thing I mean is love, Christian love, or compassion. If you feel this, you have a motive for existence, a guide for action, a reason for courage, an imperative necessity for intellectual honesty.

A heart is not judged by how much you love, but by how much you are loved, by others. (Wizard to the Tin Man)

Love comes from blindness, friendship from knowledge.

Love - THE FEELING - is a fruit of love, the verb.

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.

Belike you thought our love would last too long, if it were chain'd together.

Is your love for the Lord sufficient to give all your time and talents to his work?

Love works a different way in different minds, the fool it enlightens and the wise it blinds.

It is better to have loved your wife than never to have loved at all.

Can there be a love which does not make demands on its object?

If you were going to die soon and had only one phone call you could make, who would you call and what would you say? And why are you waiting?

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