Motivational Quotes

Love is like a fruit. It may look good, but you shouldn't bite in it until it's ripe.

We love because it's the only true adventure.

Infinite hungers leap no more I in the chance swaying of your dress; and love has changed to kindliness.

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.

Love the moment and the energy of the moment will spread beyond all boundaries.

One is very crazy when in love.

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

The idea that nations should love one another, or that business concerns or marketing boards should love one another, or that a man in Portugal should love a man in Peru of whom he has never heard --it is absurd, unreal, dangerous. The fact is we can only love what we know personally. And we cannot know much.

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 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.

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.

Love thrives not in the heart that shadows dreadeth.

Love is a friendship set to music.

I love those who do not know how to live for today.

Love is a conflict between reflexes and reflections.

A man in love is like a clipped coupon -- it's time to cash in.

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?

People need loving the most when they deserve it the least.

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

There is no remedy for love than to love more.

One does not fall in love; one grows into love, and love grows in him.

Accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together, but do so with all your heart.

Love consists not in feeling great things but in having great detachment and in suffering for the Beloved.

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

A man in love mistakes a pimple for a dimple.

Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs. Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers eyes. Being vexed, a sea nourished with lovers tears. What is it else? A madness most discreet, a choking gall and a preserving sweet.

Love is the victim's response to the rapist.

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

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.

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.

Sometimes when you look back on a situation, you realize it wasn't all you thought it was. A beautiful girl walked into your life. You fell in love. Or did you? Maybe it was only a childish infatuation, or maybe just a brief moment of vanity.

Love is the immortal flow of energy that nourishes, extends and preserves. Its eternal goal is life.

It is with true love as it is with ghosts; everyone talks about it, but few have seen it.

We often speak of love when we really should be speaking of the drive to dominate or to master, so as to confirm ourselves as active agents, in control of our own destinies and worthy of respect from others.

Love is a better teacher than duty.

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

No three words have greater power than I Love You.

When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love.

Love is a perky elf dancing a merry little jig and then suddenly he turns on you with a miniature machine gun.

If love is the answer, could you please rephrase the question?

Falling in love consists merely in uncorking the imagination and bottling the common-sense.

Every man loves what he is good at.

When two people relate to each other authentically and humanly, God is the electricity that surges between them.

My wife heard me say I love you a thousand times, but she never once heard me say sorry

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.

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

There is a voice inside which speaks and says: This is the real me!

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.

Accept yourself as you are. Otherwise you will never see opportunity. You will not feel free to move toward it; you will feel you are not deserving.

Those who haven't loved somebody else, more than they love themselves haven't even begun to live

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