Motivational Quotes

Many will detest you if you spend all your love on yourself.

Love's greatest gift is its ability to make everything it touches sacred.

Honesty is the only way with anyone, when you'll be so close as to be living inside each other's skins.

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

If we seek the pleasures of love, passion should be occasional, and common sense continual.

That is the true season of love; when we believe that we alone can love, that no one could ever have loved as much before, and that no one will ever love in the same way again.

Love is like pi -- natural, irrational, and very important.

Love is like a fruit. It may look good, but you shouldn't bite in it until it's ripe.

There exists, between people in love, a kind of capital held by each. This is not just a stock of affects or pleasure, but also the possibility of playing double or quits with the share you hold in the other's heart.

Love seeks no cause beyond itself and no fruit; it is its own fruit, its own enjoyment. I love because I love; I love in order that I may love.

Love is an emotion experienced by the many and enjoyed by the few.

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

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

Love is a better teacher than duty.

No love is entirely without worth, even when the frivolous calls to the frivolous and the base to the base.

By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another. [John 13:35]

If I place love above everything, it is because for me it is the most desperate, the most despairing state of affairs imaginable.

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

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

Even as one heat another heat expels, or as one nail by strength drives out another, so the remembrance of my former love is by a newer object quite forgotten.

It is well to be happy and wise and well to be honest and true; it is well to be off with the old love, before you are on with the new.

Falling out of love is chiefly a matter of forgetting how charming someone is.

When a person is uncertain in love, there is nothing easier than for him to put one and one together and to make three out of them.

To fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already three parts dead.

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

Fall not in love, therefore; it will stick to your face.

What is the main thing in love? to know and to hide. To know about the one you love and to hide that you love. At times the hiding (shame) overpowers the knowing (passion). The passion for the hidden -- the passion for the revealed.

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.

My first thoughts are that I should not let people down, that I should support them and love them.

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.

One seeks to make the loved one entirely happy, or, if that cannot be, entirely wretched.

We don't believe in rheumatism and true love until after the first attack.

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

We cannot avoid using power, cannot escape the compulsion to afflict the world, so let us, cautious in diction and mighty in contradiction, love powerfully.

Love's pure silver flame gives each innermost spirit invisible warmth.

Love yourself unconditionally, just as you love those closest to you despite their faults.

A man in love is like a clipped coupon -- it's time to cash in.

To love and be loved is the great happiness of existence.

Think about a woman. Doesn't know you're thinking about her. Doesn't care you're thinking about her. Makes you think about her even more.

It makes no difference how deeply seated may be the trouble, how hopeless the outlook, how muddled the tangle, how great the mistake. A sufficient realization of love will dissolve it all.

Love makes everything that is heavy light.

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

As love without esteem is capricious and volatile; esteem without love is languid and cold.

God proved His love on the Cross. When Christ hung, and bled, and died, it was God saying to the world, I love you.

Fantastic tyrant of the amorous heart. How hard thy yoke, how cruel thy dart. Those escape your anger who refuse your sway, and those are punished most, who most obey.

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.

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.

Love alone could waken love.

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?

We only love truly once. It is the first time and succeeding passions are less uncontrolled.

The wisdom of the wise, and the experience of ages, may be preserved by Motivational Quotes.