Motivational Quotes

The truth is that there is only one terminal dignity -- love. And the story of a love is not important -- what is important is that one is capable of love. It is perhaps the only glimpse we are permitted of eternity.

The man who has never made a fool of himself in love will never be wise in love.

If love means that one person absorbs the other, then no real relationship exists any more. Love evaporates; there is nothing left to love. The integrity of self is gone.

You can't blame gravity for falling in love.

I fell in love with the thought that a human life could be a priestly conduit, a connecting link between earth and sky. As I grew and stumbled and, most important, as I began to love and be loved, I realized that the ultimate priest is the lover inside us

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.

If it is your time, love will track you down like a cruise missile.

Those whom true love has held, it will go on holding.

Love, while you are able to love.

Love is a serious mental disease.

Nothing is more beautiful than the love that has weathered the storms of life. The love of the young for the young, that is the beginning of life. But the love of the old for the old, that is the beginning of things longer.

Love is a fire. But whether it is going to warm your hearth or burn down your house, you can never tell.

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

Take away love and our earth is a tomb.

There are no guarantees. From the viewpoint of fear, none are strong enough. From the viewpoint of love, none are necessary.

Love wholeheartedly, be surprised, give thanks and praise then you will discover the fullness of your life.

When love begins to sicken and decay it uses an enforced ceremony. [Julius Caesar]

Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies.

I donÆt think anyone can DO anything that would make him worthy of love. Love is a gift and cannot be earned. It can only be given.

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.

Now my love is thaw'd; which, like a waxen image'gainst a fire, bears no impression of the thing it was.

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 the last relay and ultimate outposts of eternity.

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.

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.

Love is like quicksilver in the hand. Leave the fingers open and it stays. Clutch is, and it darts away.

But love is blind and lovers cannot see The pretty follies that themselves commit; For if they could, Cupid himself would blush To see me thus transformed to a boy.

Real love is a permanently self-enlarging experience.

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 and work are the cornerstones of our humanness.

It is easy to halve the potato where there is love.

Love makes everything that is heavy light.

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

Frustrated love has been the incentive for many great works.

Love is the great miracle cure. Loving ourselves works miracles in our lives.

I cannot think well of a man who sports with any woman's feelings; and there may often be a great deal more suffered than a stander-by can judge of.

Love is not altogether a delirium, yet it has many points in common therewith.

Love is the cheapest of religions.

The greatest weakness of most humans is their hesitancy to tell others how much they love them while they're still alive.

Sure I love Goldie. How could you not love Goldie? Everyone loves Goldie. I love her, and I hope our love will continue, but I don't want to give an I-love-Goldie-Hawn interview.

I argue thee that love is life. And life hath immortality.

If we love our country, we should also love our countrymen.

People are such great mysteries. Just when we think we have understood them, a wonderful new aspect shows in them.

Only the really plain people know about love --the very fascinating ones try so hard to create an impression that they very soon exhaust their talents.

Accept yourself as you are. Otherwise you will never see opportunity. You will not feel free to move toward it; you will feel you are not deserving.

Immature love says: I love you because I need you. Mature love says: I need you because I love you.

Love bears it out even to the edge of doom.

She cannot love, nor take no shape nor project or affection, she is so self-endeared.

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

It is by loving and by being loved that one can come nearest to the soul of another.

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