Motivational Quotes

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

When you're a teenager and you're in love, it's obvious to everyone but you and the person you're in love with.

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

Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments: love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove : O, no! it is an ever fixed mark.

Every man needs two women, a quiet home-maker, and a thrilling nymph.

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.

What power is it which mounts my love so high, that makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye?

Love is a chain of love as nature is a chain of life.

If you say, I love you, then you have already fallen in love with language, which is already a form of break up and infidelity.

Love is the big booming beat which covers up the noise of hate.

Do you want to know a good way to fall in love? Just associate with all your pleasant experiences with someone, and disassociate from all the unpleasant ones.

Love must be as much a light, as it is a flame.

But when a young lady is to be a heroine, the perverseness of forty surrounding families cannot prevent her. Something must and will happen to throw a hero in her way.

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?

Love is the strange bewilderment that overtakes one person on account of another person.

We were two and had but one heart between us.

Fantasy love is much better than reality love. Never doing it is very exciting. The most exciting attractions are between two opposites that never meet.

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 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.

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

Like the measles, love is most dangerous when it comes late in life.

When we are in love we seem to ourselves quite different from what we were before.

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

Love is a given, hatred is acquired.

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.

In the evening of life, we will be judged on love alone.

Oh, love is real enough; you will find it someday, but it has one archenemy -- and that is life.

An orange on the table, your dress on the rug, and you in my bed, sweet present of the present, cool of night, warmth of my life.

Such is the inconsistency of real love, that it is always awake to suspicion, however unreasonable; always requiring new assurances from the object of its interest.

But love is blind, and lovers cannot see What petty follies they themselves commit

Lovers are fools, but Nature makes them so.

If somebody says, I love you, to me, I feel as though I had a pistol pointed at my head. What can anybody reply under such conditions but that which the pistol-holder requires? I love you, too.

Only from the heart Can you touch the sky.

Love is as much of an object as an obsession, everybody wants it, everybody seeks it, but few ever achieve it, those who do will cherish it, be lost in it, and among all, never... never forget it.

It is unfortunately very true that, without leisure and money, love can be no more than an orgy of the common man. Instead of being a sudden impulse full of ardor and reverie, it becomes a distastefully utilitarian affair.

Learning to love yourself is the greatest love of all.

Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?

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.

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.

For aught that I could ever read, could ever hear by tale or history, the course of true love never did run smooth.

Love is the only bow of life's dark cloud. It is the Morning and Evening Star. It shines upon the cradle of the babe, and sheds its radiance upon the quiet tomb. It is the Mother of Art, inspirer of poet, patriot, and philosopher. It is the air and light of every heart, builder of every home, kinder of every fire on every hearth, It was the first dream of immortality. It fills the world with melody. Love is the magician, the enchanter, that changes worthless things to joy, and makes right royal kings of common clay.

Love is the bridge between two hearts.

Great passions, my dear, don't exist: they're liars fantasies. What do exist are little loves that may last for a short or a longer while.

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

To an ordinary human being, love means nothing if it does not mean loving some people more than others.

Love isn't a decision. It's a feeling. If we could decide who we loved, it would be much simpler, but much less magical.

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.

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

I pay very little regard...to what any young person says on the subject of marriage. If they profess a disinclination for it, I only set it down that they have not yet seen the right person.

At the beginning and at the end of love, the two lovers are embarrassed to find themselves alone.

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