Motivational Quotes

Love all, trust a few. Do wrong to none.

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.

We live in the world when we love it.

We who were loved will never unlive that crippling fever.

Love is something eternal; the aspect may change, but not the essence.

Don't worry about growing older or pleasing others. Please yourself.

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

Love is most nearly itself when here and now cease to matter.

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 like pi -- natural, irrational, and very important.

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

One is very crazy when in love.

Neither a lofty degree of intelligence nor imagination nor both together go to the making of genius. Love, love, love, that is the soul of genius.

What power is it which mounts my love so high, that makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye?

Love is the master key which opens the gates of happiness.

There's a lot to be said for self-delusionment when it comes to matters of the heart.

When love begins to sicken and decay, it useth an enforced ceremony.

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

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.

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

Is your love for the Lord sufficient to give all your time and talents to his work?

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.

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?

I fell in love with the thought that a human life could be a priestly conduit, a connecting link between earth and sky. As I grew and stumbled and, most important, as I began to love and be loved, I realized that the ultimate priest is the lover inside us

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

Not all of us have to possess earthshaking talent. Just common sense and love will do.

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

The best way will be to avoid each other without appearing to do so -- or if we jostle, at any rate not to bite.

Know that you are your greatest enemy, but also your greatest friend.

Love feels no burden, regards not labors, strives toward more than it attains, argues not of impossibility, since it believes that it may and can do all things. Therefore it avails for all things, and fulfils and accomplishes much where one not a lover falls and lies helpless.

Self-love depressed becomes self-loathing.

Perhaps the old monks were right when they tried to root love out; perhaps the poets are right when they try to water it. It is a blood-red flower, with the color of sin; but there is always the scent of a god about it.

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.

Love never reasons, but profusely gives; it gives like a thoughtless prodigal its all, and then trembles least it has done to little.

Oh, Jacques, we're used to each other, we're a pair of captive hawks caught in the same cage, and so we've grown used to each other. That's what passes for love at this dim, shadowy end of the Camino Real.

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.

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

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

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

It is of practical value to learn to like yourself. Since you must spend so much time with yourself you might as well get some satisfaction out of the relationship.

When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes... Haply I think on thee, and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate; For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

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

Love all that has been created by God, both the whole and every grain of sand. Love every leaf and every ray of light. Love the beasts and the birds, love the plants, love every separate fragment. If you love each fragment, you will understand the mystery of the whole resting in God.

Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples: for I am sick of love. [The Song Of Solomon 2:5]

When we understand that man is the only animal who must create meaning, who must open a wedge into neutral nature, we already understand the essence of love. Love is the problem of an animal who must find life, create a dialogue with nature in order to experience his own being.

Love is everything it's cracked up to beàIt really is worth fighting for, being brave for, risking everything for.

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

Perdition catch my soul, but I do love thee! and when I love thee not, Chaos is come again.

Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish it's source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of withering, of tarnishing.

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