Motivational Quotes

A heart that loves is always young.

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

For in the end, we will conserve only what we love. We will love only what we understand. We will understand only what we are taught.

I define love for our purpose as the passion of one being for another in the hope of being loved in return.

Teach only love for that is what you are.

Those whom true love has held, it will go on holding.

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?

There are no guarantees. From the viewpoint of fear, none are strong enough. From the viewpoint of love, none are necessary.

Love wholeheartedly, be surprised, give thanks and praise then you will discover the fullness of your life.

I try to give to the poor people for love what the rich could get for money. No, I wouldn't touch a leper for a thousand pounds; yet I willingly cure him for the love of God.

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.

Love is the strange bewilderment that overtakes one person on account of another person.

I am a big believer in the mirror test. All that matters is if you can look in the mirror and honestly tell the person you see there, that you've done your best.

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

The chameleon Love can feed on the air.

Love's best habit is a soothing tongue.

When a man and a woman have an overwhelming passion for each other, it seems to me, in spite of such obstacles dividing them as parents or husband, that they belong to each other in the name of Nature, and are lovers by Divine right, in spite of human convention or the laws.

Is love supposed to last throughout all time, or is it like trains changing at random stops. If I loved her, how could I leave her? If I felt that way then, how come I don't feel anything now?

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.

Oh, love is real enough; you will find it someday, but it has one archenemy -- and that is life.

Love ever gives. Forgives outlives. And ever stands with open hands. And while it lives, it gives. For this is love's prerogatives -- to give, and give, and give.

Self-love is the instrument of our preservation.

Everything comes to us from others. To Be is to belong to someone.

If they love they know not why, they hate upon no better ground, they hate upon no better a ground.

It is easy to halve the potato where there is 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.

The root of the matter the thing I mean is love, Christian love, or compassion. If you feel this, you have a motive for existence, a guide for action, a reason for courage, an imperative necessity for intellectual honesty.

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.

Love is a tyrant sparing none.

If I love you, what business is it of yours?

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.

We cease loving ourselves if no one loves us.

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

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

I adore him I have never been so happy. I have real love.

In the evening of life, we will be judged on love alone.

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.

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.

What makes lovers never tire of one another is that they talk always about themselves.

Love is not altogether a delirium, yet it has many points in common therewith.

After the verb To Love...To Help is the most beautiful verb in the world.

Never try to define love. Once defined love is confined. Once confined -- It dies.

Love and you shall be loved. All love is mathematically just, as much as the two sides of an algebraic equation.

I regard as a mortal sin not only the lying of the senses in matters of love, but also the illusion which the senses seek to create where love is only partial. I say, I believe, that one must love with all of one's being, or else live, come what may, a life of complete chastity.

The cure for all the ills and wrongs, the cares, the sorrows, and the crimes of humanity, all lie in that one word Love. It is the divine vitality that everywhere produces and restores life.

Love is not to be purchased, and affection has no price.

One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life: That word is love.

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

Love is like a poisonous mushroom -- you don't know if it is the real thing until it is too late

Love may be blind, but it can sure find its way around in the dark!

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