Motivational Quotes

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.

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

A man in love is like a clipped coupon -- it's time to cash in.

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

Human Love... It is that extra creation that stands hurt and baffled at the place of death. Being human, wanting children and sunlight and breath to go on, forever.

Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself. Love possesses not nor would it be possessed; For love is sufficient unto love.

Go to the truth beyond the mind. Love is the bridge.

Love is what you've been through with somebody.

You can't show love to someone at the expense of someone else who loves you.

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.

My love is strengthen'd, though more weak in seeming; I love not less, though less the show appear: That love is merchandised whose rich esteeming The owner's tongue doth publish every where.

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.

Monkeys are superior to men in this: when a monkey looks into a mirror, he sees a monkey.

If only I had a little humility, I'd be perfect.

We can only learn to love by loving.

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

But when a young lady is to be a heroine, the perverseness of forty surrounding families cannot prevent her. Something must and will happen to throw a hero in her way.

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.

Love is a spendthrift, leaves it arithmetic at home, is always in the red.

We who were loved will never unlive that crippling fever.

Love is all you need.

Love the whole world as a mother lovers her only child.

Darkness can not drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.

Love is everything. It is the key to life, and its influences are those that move the world.

Love is an emotion experienced by the many and enjoyed by the few.

To fall in love is to create a religion that has a fallible god.

Our first and last love is... self-love.

You can't love anyone until you understand that you can't love everyone.

The idea that nations should love one another, or that business concerns or marketing boards should love one another, or that a man in Portugal should love a man in Peru of whom he has never heard --it is absurd, unreal, dangerous. The fact is we can only love what we know personally. And we cannot know much.

Love is the affinity which links and draws together the elements of the world... Love, in fact, is the agent of universal synthesis.

Gravitation can not be held responsible for people falling in love

The love of liberty is the love of others; the love of power is the love of ourselves. We cannot force love.

We cannot avoid using power, cannot escape the compulsion to afflict the world, so let us, cautious in diction and mighty in contradiction, love powerfully.

The important thing was to love rather than to be loved.

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

There are few people who are not ashamed of their love affairs when the infatuation is over.

What else is love but understanding and rejoicing in the fact that another person lives, acts, and experiences otherwise than we doà?

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

Love begins at home, and it is not how much we do... but how much love we put in that action.

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

You will always have to live with yourself, and it is to your best interest to see that you have good company -- a clean, pure, straight, honest, upright, generous, magnanimous companion.

All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer, with sighs of love, that costs the fresh blood dear.

Where both deliberate, the love is slight: Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight?

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.

Love is an exploding cigar we willingly smoke.

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.

A man has only one escape from his old self: to see a different self in the mirror of some woman's eyes.

One's first love is always perfect until one meets one's second love.

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 conquers all; let us surrender to Love.

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