Motivational Quotes

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

If you have it [Love], you don't need to have anything else, and if you don't have it, it doesn't matter much what else you have.

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

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

Great passions, my dear, don't exist: they're liars fantasies. What do exist are little loves that may last for a short or a longer while.

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

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

You can't buy love, but you can pay heavily for it.

And this I pray, that your love may abound still more and more in real knowledge and all discernment. [Philippians 1:9]

I don't want to live -- I want to love first, and live incidentally.

For one human being to love another; that is perhaps the most difficult of all our tasks, the ultimate, the last test and proof, the work for which all other work is but preparation.

Nothing takes the taste out of peanut butter quite like unrequited love.

But I always think that the best way to know God is to love many things.

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

If we seek the pleasures of love, passion should be occasional, and common sense continual.

Love is only the game that is not called on account of darkness.

We've got this gift of love, but love is like a precious plant. You can't just accept it and leave it in the cupboard or just think it's going to get on by itself. You've got to keep watering it. You've got to really look after it and nurture it.

A supreme love, a motive that gives a sublime rhythm to a woman's life, and exalts habit into partnership with the soul's highest needs, is not to be had where and how she wills.

Love can never grow old. Locks may lose their brown and gold. Cheeks may fade and hollow grow. But the hearts that love will know, never winter's frost and chill, summer's warmth is in them still.

Things base and vile, holding no quantity, love can transpose to form and dignity.

Wicked men obey from fear; good men, from love.

Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction.

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

My life is an indivisible whole, and all my attitudes run into one another; and they all have their rise in my insatiable love for mankind.

Love is, above all else, the gift of oneself.

Love is the flower of life, and blossoms unexpectedly and without law, and must be plucked where it is found, and enjoyed for the brief hour of its duration.

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

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

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

Love, Arthur, is a poodle's chance of attaining the infinite, and personally I have my pride.

I do not love you

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

that this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

Lovers are fools, but Nature makes them so.

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.

We don't believe in rheumatism and true love until after the first attack.

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

Love is the joy of the good, the wonder of the wise, the amazement of the Gods.

Love is the bridge between two hearts.

Love alone could waken love.

We were two and had but one heart between us.

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.

Life is the flower for which love is the honey.

To be among people one loves, that's sufficient; to dream, to speak to them, to be silent among them, to think of indifferent things; but among them, everything is equal.

Women wish to be loved not because they are pretty, or good, or well bred, or graceful, or intelligent, but because they are themselves.

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

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.

The richest love is that which submits to the arbitration of time.

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.

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

Above the cloud with its shadow is the star with its light. Above all things reverence thyself.

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