Motivational Quotes

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.

Love is not blind - it sees more, not less. But because it sees more, it is willing to see less.

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.

Life's greatest happiness is to be convinced we are loved.

Self-love exaggerates our faults as well as our virtues.

I met in the street a very poor young man who was in love. His hat was old, his coat worn, his cloak was out at the elbows, the water passed through his shoes -- and the stars through his soul.

Love lacked a dwelling, and made him her place; And when in his fair parts she did abide, She was lodged and newly deified.

Things base and vile, holding no quantity, love can transpose to form and dignity.

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.

Let the lover be disgraceful, crazy, absent-minded. Someone sober will worry about events going badly. Let the lover be.

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

A life without love in it is like a heap of ashes upon a deserted hearth, with the fire dead, the laughter stilled and the light extinguished.

Know the self to be sitting in the chariot, the body to be the chariot, the intellect the charioteer, and the mind the reins.

No woman marries for money; they are all clever enough, before marrying a millionaire, to fall in love with him first.

Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?

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

Sometimes when you look back on a situation, you realize it wasn't all you thought it was. A beautiful girl walked into your life. You fell in love. Or did you? Maybe it was only a childish infatuation, or maybe just a brief moment of vanity.

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

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

I believe love produces a certain flowering of the whole personality which nothing else can achieve.

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

A man in love mistakes a pimple for a dimple.

To love one child and to love all children, whether living or dead --somewhere these two loves come together. To love a no-good but humble punk and to love an honest man who believes himself to be an honest man --somewhere these, too, come together.

Love is the beauty of the soul.

Self-love seems so often unrequited.

I do not love you

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

that this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

To fail to love is not to exist at all.

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.

We were two and had but one heart between us.

What does love look like? It has the hands to help others. It has the feet to hasten to the poor and needy. It has eyes to see misery and want. It has the ears to hear the sighs and sorrows of men. That is what love looks like.

You will find, as you look back upon your life, that the moments when you really lived are the moments when you have done things in the spirit of love.

We live in the world when we love it.

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

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.

It is a beautiful trait in the lovers character, that they think no evil of the object loved.

Be that self which one truly is.

For one human being to love another; that is perhaps the most difficult of all our tasks, the ultimate, the last test and proof, the work for which all other work is but preparation.

For where there is true love, a man is neither out of measure lifted up by prosperity, nor cast down by mishap; whether you give or take away from him, so long as he keeps his beloved, he has a spring of inward peace. Thus, even though thy outward man grieve, or weep downright, that may well be borne, if only thy inner man remain at peace, perfectly content with the will of God.

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

Those who haven't loved somebody else, more than they love themselves haven't even begun to live

Frustrated love has been the incentive for many great works.

The best way to know God is to love many things.

True love grows by sacrifice and the more thoroughly the soul rejects natural satisfaction the stronger and more detached its tenderness becomes.

Love is life's end, but never ending. Love is life's wealth, never spent, but ever spending. Love's life's reward, rewarded in rewarding.

Madame, it is an old word and each one takes it new and wears it out himself. It is a word that fills with meaning as a bladder with air and the meaning goes out of it as quickly. It may be punctured as a bladder is punctured and patched and blown up again and if you have not had it does not exist for you. All people talk of it, but those who have had it are marked by it, and I would not wish to speak of it further since of all things it is the most ridiculous to talk of and only fools go through it many times.

Love is the cheapest of religions.

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

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach.

There is no disguise that can for long conceal love where it exists or simulate it where it does not.

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

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