Motivational Quotes

Love never reasons, but profusely gives; it gives like a thoughtless prodigal its all, and then trembles least it has done to little.

At the center of non-violence stands the principle of love.

We will invent new lullabies, new songs, new acts of love, we will cry over things we used to laugh and our new wisdom will bring tears to eyes of gentle creatures from other planets who were afraid of us till then and in the end a summer with wild winds and new friends will be.

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

It was the men I deceived the most that I loved the most.

You can't blame gravity for falling in love.

It is the privilege of those who fear love to murder those who do not fear it!

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

Live for love. Without love, you don't live.

Do not wish to be anything except what you are.

Alas, their love may be call'd appetite. No motion of the liver, but the palate.

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

Think about a woman. Doesn't know you're thinking about her. Doesn't care you're thinking about her. Makes you think about her even more.

It's afterwards you realize that the feeling of happiness you had with a man didn't necessarily prove that you loved him.

It is unfortunately very true that, without leisure and money, love can be no more than an orgy of the common man. Instead of being a sudden impulse full of ardor and reverie, it becomes a distastefully utilitarian affair.

An affair wants to spill, to share its glory with the world. No act is so private it does not seek applause.

The chemist who can extract from his heart's elements, compassion, respect, longing, patience, regret, surprise, and forgiveness and compound them into one can create that atom which is called love.

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

Love is most nearly itself when here and now cease to matter.

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.

To dream of the person you would like to be is to waste the person you are.

It is easier to keep half a dozen lovers guessing than to keep one lover after he has stopped guessing.

If we are to judge of love by its consequences, it more nearly resembles hatred than friendship.

LOVE, the feeling, is the fruit of LOVE, the verb.

Pity the selfishness of lovers: it is brief, a forlorn hope; it is impossible.

Love is a ocean of emotions entirely surrounded by expenses.

Every man needs two women, a quiet home-maker, and a thrilling nymph.

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.

A good relationship is like fireworks: loud, explosive, and liable to maim you if you hold on too long.

I would rather live and love where death is king than have eternal life where love is not.

Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear; where little fear grows great, great love grows there.

Love is the irresistible desire to be desired irresistibly.

Gravity. It keeps you rooted to the ground. In space, there's not any gravity. You just kind of leave your feet and go floating around. Is that what being in love is like?

The way to a woman's heart is through your wallet.

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.

One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life; that word is love.

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.

Love (understood as the desire of good for another) is in fact so unnatural a phenomenon that it can scarcely repeat itself, the soul being unable to become virgin again and not having energy enough to cast itself out again into the ocean of another's soul.

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

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.

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

Love feels no burden, thinks nothing of trouble, attempts what is above its strength.... It is therefore able to undertake all things, and it completes many things, and warrants them to take effect, where he who does not love would faint and lie down.

Nowadays men cannot love seven night but they must have all their desires: that love may not endure by reason; for where they be soon accorded and hasty, heat soon it cooleth. Right so fareth love nowadays, soon hot soon cold: this is no stability. But the old love was not so.

Love is a promise, love is a souvenir, once given never forgotten, never let it disappear.

The advantage of love at first sight is that it delays a second sight.

Where love rules, there is no will to power; where power predominates, there love is lacking. The one is the shadow of the other.

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.

Passion is seldom the end of any story, for it cannot long endure if it is not soon supplemented with true affection and mutual respect.

One does not fall in love; one grows into love, and love grows in him.

I shall always be a priest of love.

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