Motivational Quotes

Never try to define love. Once defined love is confined. Once confined -- It dies.

Don't hold to anger, hurt or pain. They steal your energy and keep you from love.

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.

Some cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.

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

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.

Love is the irresistible desire to be desired irresistibly.

How many cares one loses when one decides not to be something, but to be someone.

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

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

'Light fuse and get away'may work for a Roman candle, but not so much for the wrath of a woman scorned.

I was nauseous and tingly all over. I was either in love or I had smallpox.

'Tis the most tender part of love, each other to forgive.

Today I begin to understand what love must be, if it exists. When we are parted, we each feel the lack of the other half of ourselves. We are incomplete like a book in two volumes of which the first has been lost. That is what I imagine love to be: incompleteness in absence.

We really have to understand the person we want to love. If our love is only a will to possess, it is not love. If we only think of ourselves, if we know only our own needs and ignore the needs of the other person, we cannot love.

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.

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 has no errors, for all errors are the want for love.

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.

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

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.

When love is in excess it brings a man no honor nor worthiness.

Teach only love for that is what you are.

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.

The more one loves a mistress, the more one is ready to hate her.

True love brings up everything - you're allowing a mirror to be held up to you daily.

Love the whole world as a mother lovers her only child.

What will not woman, gentle woman dare; when strong affection stirs her spirit up?

Self-love seems so often unrequited.

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.

When first we met we did not guess that Love would prove so hard a master.

Where love is concerned, too much is not even enough.

Do not wish to be anything except what you are.

There's a lot to be said for self-delusionment when it comes to matters of the heart.

Love is the bridge between two hearts.

If we really love ourselves, everything in our life works.

Love is the direct opposite of hate. By definition it's something you can't feel for more than a few minutes at a time, so what's all this bullshit about loving somebody for the rest of your life?

I was never one to patiently pick up broken fragments and glue them together again and tell myself that the mended whole was as good as new. What is broken is broken -- and I'd rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken places as long as I lived.

Maybe kissing is sort of like nature's coffee.

The way to love anything is to realize that it might be lost.

Who is wise in love, love most, say least.

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

I define love for our purpose as the passion of one being for another in the hope of being loved in return.

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

Love is an expression and assertion of self-esteem, a response to one's own values in the person of another. One gains a profoundly personal, selfish joy from the mere existence of the person one loves. It is one's own personal, selfish happiness that one seeks, earns, and derives from love.

They do not love that do not show their love. The course of true love never did run smooth. Love is a familiar. Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but Love.

However it is debased or misinterpreted, love is a redemptive feature. To focus on one individual so that their desires become superior to yours is a very cleansing experience.

Real love stories never have endings.

Love is not love until love's vulnerable.

A lover, when he is admitted to cards, ought to be solemnly silent, and observe the motions of his mistress. He must laugh when she laughs, sigh when she sighs. In short, he should be the shadow of her mind. A lady, in the presence of her lover, should never want a looking-glass; as a beau, in the presence of his looking-glass, never wants a mistress.

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