Motivational Quotes

Love matches are made by people who are content, for a month of honey, to condemn themselves to a life of vinegar.

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.

To try to write love is to confront the muck of language: that region of hysteria where language is both too much and too little, excessive and impoverished.

Just because you love someone doesn't mean you have to be involved with them. Love is not a bandage to cover wounds.

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

Do not wish to be anything except what you are.

One seeks to make the loved one entirely happy, or, if that cannot be, entirely wretched.

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.

Even as one heat another heat expels, or as one nail by strength drives out another, so the remembrance of my former love is by a newer object quite forgotten.

I love Mickey Mouse more than any woman I have ever known.

Love is often nothing but a favorable exchange between two people who get the most of what they can expect, considering their value on the personality market.

The advantage of love at first sight is that it delays a second sight.

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

The perversity of the human spirit is such that when a young lady longs for one specific partner, every other partner counts for nothing.

No three words have greater power than I Love You.

There is no pain equal to that which two lovers can inflict on one another. This should be made clear to all who contemplate such a union. The avoidance of this pain is the beginning of wisdom, for it is strong enough to contaminate the rest of our lives.

Love is stronger than violence.

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

For where there is true love, a man is neither out of measure lifted up by prosperity, nor cast down by mishap; whether you give or take away from him, so long as he keeps his beloved, he has a spring of inward peace. Thus, even though thy outward man grieve, or weep downright, that may well be borne, if only thy inner man remain at peace, perfectly content with the will of God.

Love is begun by time; and that I see in passages of proof, time qualifies the spark and fire of it. There lives within the very flame of love a kind of wick or snuff that will abate it.

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

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

Love is not love until love's vulnerable.

Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?

Love means the body, the soul, the life, the entire being. We feel love as we feel the warmth of our blood, we breathe love as we breathe air, we hold it in ourselves as we hold our thoughts. Nothing more exists for us.

How we treasure (and admire) the people who acknowledge us!

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.

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

The more I think about it, the more I realize there is nothing more artistic that to love others.

Love is much nicer to be in than an automobile accident, a tight girdle, a higher tax bracket, or a holding pattern over Philadelphia.

Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies.

We cease loving ourselves if no one loves us.

Love is an exploding cigar we willingly smoke.

We only love truly once. It is the first time and succeeding passions are less uncontrolled.

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

Live for love. Without love, you don't live.

Love, while you are able to 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.

Fantasy love is much better than reality love. Never doing it is very exciting. The most exciting attractions are between two opposites that never meet.

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

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

If only the strength of the love that people feel when it is reciprocated could be as intense and obsessive as the love we feel when it is not; then marriages would be truly made in heaven.

To love one child and to love all children, whether living or dead --somewhere these two loves come together. To love a no-good but humble punk and to love an honest man who believes himself to be an honest man --somewhere these, too, come together.

A bizarre sensation pervades a relationship of pretense. No truth seems true. A simple morning's greeting and response appear loaded with innuendo and fraught with implications. Each nicety becomes more sterile and each withdrawal more permanent.

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

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.

The sweetest joy, the wildest woe is love.

Two separate, distinct personalities, not separate at all, but inextricably bound, soul and body and mind, to each other, how did we get so far apart so fast?

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

Love is all you need.

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