Motivational Quotes

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

Neither a lofty degree of intelligence nor imagination nor both together go to the making of genius. Love, love, love, that is the soul of genius.

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

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.

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

We are all born for love. It is the principle of existence, and its only end.

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.

I'd rather be able to face myself in the bathroom mirror than be rich and famous.

Lovers may be -- and indeed generally are -- enemies, but they never can be friends, because there must always be a spice of jealousy and a something of Self in all their speculations.

Love alone could waken love.

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

The Impossible Generalized Man today is the critic who believes in loving those unworthy of love as well as those worthy --yet believes this only insofar as no personal risk is entailed. Meaning he loves no one, worthy or no. This is what makes him impossible.

There is an important difference between love and friendship. While the former delights in extremes and opposites, the latter demands equality.

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

Love is life. All, everything that I understand, I understand only because I love. Everything is, everything exists, only because I love. Everything is united by it alone. Love is God, and to die means that I, a particle of love, shall return to the general and eternal source.

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

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?

In real love you want the other person's good. In romantic love, you want the other person.

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.

When we understand that man is the only animal who must create meaning, who must open a wedge into neutral nature, we already understand the essence of love. Love is the problem of an animal who must find life, create a dialogue with nature in order to experience his own being.

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

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 possesses not nor will it be possessed, for love is sufficient unto love.

I like not only to be loved, but also to be told that I am loved. I am not sure that you are of the same kind. But the realm of silence is large enough beyond the grave. This is the world of literature and speech and I shall take leave to tell you that you are very dear.

In love, as in gluttony, pleasure is a matter of the utmost precision.

Once you have learned to love, You will have learned to live.

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

The sweetest joy, the wildest woe is love.

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

It's unthinkable not to love --you'd have a severe nervous breakdown. Or you'd have to be Philip Larkin.

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.

Love the giver more than the gift.

Our affections as well as our bodies are in perpetual flux.

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

Those that embrace the entire universe with love, for the most part love nothing, but their narrow selves.

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

Subdue your passion or it will subdue you.

When we are in love we seem to ourselves quite different from what we were before.

Everybody forgets the basic thing; people are not going to love you unless you love them.

My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.

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.

A proof that experience is of no use, is that the end of one love does not prevent us from beginning another.

Love is made by two people, in different kinds of solitude. It can be in a crowd, but in an oblivious crowd.

Love is what happens to a man and woman who don't know each other.

God proved His love on the Cross. When Christ hung, and bled, and died, it was God saying to the world, I love you.

It is difficult to know at what moment love begins; it is less difficult to know that it has begun.

Perdition catch my soul, but I do love thee! and when I love thee not, Chaos is come again.

Naturally, love's the most distant possibility.

Do all things with love.

Love is not enough. It must be the foundation, the cornerstone - but not the complete structure. It is much too pliable, too yielding.

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