Motivational Quotes

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

A life without love in it is like a heap of ashes upon a deserted hearth, with the fire dead, the laughter stilled and the light extinguished.

The supreme happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved; loved for ourselves, or rather in spite of ourselves.

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

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.

How sweet it is to love, and to be dissolved, and as it were to bathe myself in thy love.

Love, I find, is like singing. Everybody can do enough to satisfy themselves, though it may not impress the neighbors as being very much.

To love one person with a private love is poor and miserable: to love all is glorious.

The pain of love is the pain of being alive. It is a perpetual wound.

Busy old fool, unruly Sun, why dost thou thus through windows and through curtains call on us? Must to thy motions lovers seasons run?

One would always want to think of oneself as being on the side of love, ready to recognize it and wish it well --but, when confronted with it in others, one so often resented it, questioned its true nature, secretly dismissed the particular instance as folly or promiscuity. Was it merely jealousy, or a reluctance to admit so noble and enviable a sentiment in anyone but oneself?

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

The more one loves a mistress, the more one is ready to hate her.

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.

There is no remedy for love than to love more.

I do not think that what is called Love at first sight is so great an absurdity as it is sometimes imagined to be. We generally make up our minds beforehand to the sort of person we should like, grave or gay, black, brown, or fair; with golden tresses or raven locks; -- and when we meet with a complete example of the qualities we admire, the bargain is soon struck.

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

Love comes when manipulation stops; when you think more about the other person than about his or her reactions to you. When you dare to reveal yourself fully. When you dare to be vulnerable.

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

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.

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

Love is the big booming beat which covers up the noise of hate.

People who are sensible about love are incapable of it.

Love's pure silver flame gives each innermost spirit invisible warmth.

We can only learn to love by loving.

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

Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own.

Such is the inconsistency of real love, that it is always awake to suspicion, however unreasonable; always requiring new assurances from the object of its interest.

In love, there is always one who kisses and one who offers the cheek.

What the world really needs is more love and less paper work.

Love is the only bow of life's dark cloud. It is the Morning and Evening Star. It shines upon the cradle of the babe, and sheds its radiance upon the quiet tomb. It is the Mother of Art, inspirer of poet, patriot, and philosopher. It is the air and light of every heart, builder of every home, kinder of every fire on every hearth, It was the first dream of immortality. It fills the world with melody. Love is the magician, the enchanter, that changes worthless things to joy, and makes right royal kings of common clay.

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

I was never one to patiently pick up broken fragments and glue them together again and tell myself that the mended whole was as good as new. What is broken is broken -- and I'd rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken places as long as I lived.

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

LOVE, the feeling, is the fruit of LOVE, the verb.

Love is as much of an object as an obsession, everybody wants it, everybody seeks it, but few ever achieve it, those who do will cherish it, be lost in it, and among all, never... never forget it.

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

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

If you were going to die soon and had only one phone call you could make, who would you call and what would you say? And why are you waiting?

Love, while you are able to love.

Love is never lost. If not reciprocated, it will flow back and soften and purify the heart.

Love feels no burden, thinks nothing of trouble, attempts what is above its strength.... It is therefore able to undertake all things, and it completes many things, and warrants them to take effect, where he who does not love would faint and lie down.

When you love someone all your saved-up wishes start coming out.

You are my lover and I am your mistress and kingdoms and empires and governments have tottered and succumbed before now to that mighty combination.

One can be a soldier without dying, and a lover without sighing.

I donÆt think anyone can DO anything that would make him worthy of love. Love is a gift and cannot be earned. It can only be given.

The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed.

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

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

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

The wisdom of the wise, and the experience of ages, may be preserved by Motivational Quotes.