Motivational Quotes

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.

Love is the flower of life, and blossoms unexpectedly and without law, and must be plucked where it is found, and enjoyed for the brief hour of its duration.

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

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.

In love, unlike most other passions, the recollection of what you have had and lost is always better than what you can hope for in the future.

Love is the bridge between two hearts.

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

Love comes from blindness, friendship from knowledge.

Well-ordered self-love is right and natural.

Love is stronger than justice.

Love life and life will love you back. Love people and they will love you back.

I do not think that what is called Love at first sight is so great an absurdity as it is sometimes imagined to be. We generally make up our minds beforehand to the sort of person we should like, grave or gay, black, brown, or fair; with golden tresses or raven locks; -- and when we meet with a complete example of the qualities we admire, the bargain is soon struck.

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.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments: love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds.

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

O, then, what graces in my love do dwell, that he hath turn'd a heaven unto hell!

There's an evolutionary imperative why we give a crap about our family and friends. And there's an evolutionary imperative why we don't give a crap about anybody else. If we loved all people indiscriminately, we couldn't function.

It is here, my daughters, that love is to be found -- not hidden away in corners but in the midst of occasions of sin. And believe me, although we may more often fail and commit small lapses, our gain will be incomparably the greater.

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.

You can't blame gravity for falling in love.

Love means the body, the soul, the life, the entire being. We feel love as we feel the warmth of our blood, we breathe love as we breathe air, we hold it in ourselves as we hold our thoughts. Nothing more exists for us.

He who is in love is wise and is becoming wiser, sees newly every time he looks at the object beloved, drawing from it with his eyes and his mind those virtues which it possesses.

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

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

He that loveth not knoweth not God; for God is love. [I John]

The enthusiasm of a woman's love is even beyond the biographer's.

If I love you, what business is it of yours?

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.

One can be a soldier without dying, and a lover without sighing.

Love is inseparable from knowledge.

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.

Perhaps the old monks were right when they tried to root love out; perhaps the poets are right when they try to water it. It is a blood-red flower, with the color of sin; but there is always the scent of a god about it.

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.

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.

Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies.

I love a hand that meets my own with a grasp that causes some sensation.

Love is everything it's cracked up to beàIt really is worth fighting for, being brave for, risking everything for.

Man's love is of man's life a part; it is a woman's whole existence. In her first passion, a woman loves her lover, in all the others all she loves is love.

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

Everything comes to us from others. To Be is to belong to someone.

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.

If you cannot inspire a woman with love of you, fill her above the brim with love of herself; all that runs over will be yours.

When love begins to sicken and decay, it useth an enforced ceremony.

Blue eyes say, Love me or I die; black eyes say, Love me or I kill thee.

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

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.

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

Love alone can unite living beings so as to complete and fulfill them... for it alone joins them by what is deepest in themselves. All we need is to imagine our ability to love developing until it embraces the totality of men and the earth.

Love feels no burden, regards not labors, strives toward more than it attains, argues not of impossibility, since it believes that it may and can do all things. Therefore it avails for all things, and fulfils and accomplishes much where one not a lover falls and lies helpless.

In every loving woman there is a priestess of the past -- a pious guardian of some affection, of which the object has disappeared.

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