Motivational Quotes

The spiritualization of sensuality is called love: it is a great triumph over Christianity.

Age does not protect you from love. But love, to some extent, protects you from age.

Parrots, tortoises and redwoods live a longer life than men do; Men a longer life than dogs do; Dogs a longer life than love does.

No cord nor cable can so forcibly draw, or hold so fast, as love can do with a twined thread.

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.

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

Love is, above all else, the gift of oneself.

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.

Love is a friendship caught on fire.

To be able to say how much love, is love but little.

The hind that would be mated by the lion must die for love.

Love is a better teacher than duty.

Love is the delusion that one man or woman differs from another.

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

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

What else is love but understanding and rejoicing in the fact that another person lives, acts, and experiences otherwise than we doà?

Listen! Encourage. Say something. Do something. Be yourself. Love

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.

You can give without loving, but you cannot love without giving.

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

Two separate, distinct personalities, not separate at all, but inextricably bound, soul and body and mind, to each other, how did we get so far apart so fast?

Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?

My mistress'eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips'red... I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound.

Love ever gives. Forgives outlives. And ever stands with open hands. And while it lives, it gives. For this is love's prerogatives -- to give, and give, and give.

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

Love is the final end of the world's history, the Amen of the universe.

Well, love is insanity. The ancient Greeks knew that. It is the taking over of a rational and lucid mind by delusion and self-destruction. You lose yourself, you have no power over yourself, you can't even think straight.

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.

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.

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

Love is a serious mental disease.

Learn what you are and be such.

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

We who were loved will never unlive that crippling fever.

You can't put a price tag on love, but you can on all its accessories.

Gravitation can not be held responsible for people falling in love

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

Life and love are life and love, a bunch of violets is a bunch of violets, and to drag in the idea of a point is to ruin everything. Live and let live, love and let love, flower and fade, and follow the natural curve, which flows on, pointless.

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

Self-love for ever creeps out, like a snake, to sting anything which happens to stumble upon it.

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

In every question and every remark tossed back and forth between lovers who have not played out the last fugue, there is one question and it is this: Is there someone new?

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.

Love surfeits not, Lust like a glutton dies; Love is all truth, Lust full of forged lies.

Don't smother each other. No one can grow in the shade.

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.

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

When once estrangement has arisen between those who truly love each other, everything seems to widen the breach.

In the end, I decide that the mark we've left on each other is the color and shape of love. That the unfinished business between us. Because love, love is never finished. It circles and circles, the memories out of order and not always complete.

If you have it [Love], you don't need to have anything else, and if you don't have it, it doesn't matter much what else you have.

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