Motivational Quotes

Love thrives not in the heart that shadows dreadeth.

If love be blind, it best agrees with night.

To fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already three parts dead.

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

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

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

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

The spiritualization of sensuality is called love: it is a great triumph over Christianity.

My mistress'eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips'red... I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound.

It is better to have loved your wife than never to have loved at all.

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

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

He who falls in love with himself will have no rivals.

Many a man has fallen in love with a girl in light so dim he would not have chosen a suit by it.

Love is not only something you feel. It's something you do.

Let the first impulse pass, wait for the second.

When you interact with another, an illusion is part of this dynamic. This illusion allows each soul to perceive what it needs to understands in order to heal.

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

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, love, love -- all the wretched cant of it, masking egotism, lust, masochism, fantasy under a mythology of sentimental postures, a welter of self-induced miseries and joys, blinding and masking the essential personalities in the frozen gestures of courtship, in the kissing and the dating and the desire, the compliments and the quarrels which vivify its barrenness.

Love the giver more than the gift.

Fall not in love, therefore; it will stick to your face.

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

Love is the irresistible desire to be desired irresistibly.

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

Love and stoplights can be cruel.

We don't always get to choose what we 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.

What's terrible is to pretend that the second-rate is first-rate, that you don't need love when you do or that you like your work when you know quite well you're capable of better.

Love must be as much a light, as it is a flame.

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

I would not miss your face, your neck, your hands, your limbs, your bosom and certain other of your charms. Indeed, not to become boring by naming them all, I could do without you, Chloe, altogether.

True love makes the thought of death frequent, easy, without terrors; it merely becomes the standard of comparison, the price one would pay for many things.

Life's greatest happiness is to be convinced we are loved.

Yet each man kills the thing he loves from all let this be heard some does it with a bitter look some with a flattering word the coward does it with a kiss the brave man with the sword.

When you recover or discover something that nourishes your soul and bring joy, care enough about yourself to make room for it in your life.

Who travels for love finds a thousand miles not longer than one.

For love... has two faces; one white, the other black; two bodies; one smooth, the other hairy. It has two hands, two feet, two tails, two, indeed, of every member and each one is the exact opposite of the other. Yet, so strictly are they joined together

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

Love is the direct opposite of hate. By definition it's something you can't feel for more than a few minutes at a time, so what's all this bullshit about loving somebody for the rest of your life?

The magic of first love is our ignorance that it can never end.

I shall always be a priest of love.

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.

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

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.

I was nauseous and tingly all over. I was either in love or I had smallpox.

The love of those we don't love in return settles on the surface and from there quickly evaporates.

I believe love is primarily a choice and only sometimes a feeling. If you want to feel love, choose to love and be patient.

Love is the river of life in the world.

One is very crazy when in love.

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