Motivational Quotes

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

When we are in love we seem to ourselves quite different from what we were before.

Subdue your passion or it will subdue you.

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

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 swift, sincere, pious, joyful, generous, strong, patient, faithful, prudent, long-suffering, courageous, and never seeking its own; for wheresoever a person seeketh his own, there he falleth from love.

A man can go from being a lover to being a stranger in three moves flat but a woman under the guise of friendship will engage in acts of duplicity which come to light very much later. There are different species of self-justification.

Love is inseparable from knowledge.

Nothing takes the taste out of peanut butter quite like unrequited love.

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

The desire for possession is insatiable, to such a point that it can survive even love itself. To love, therefore, is to sterilize the person one loves.

I'd rather be able to face myself in the bathroom mirror than be rich and famous.

If you find someone you love in your life, then hang on to that love.

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.

There is no remedy for love than to love more.

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

Love the art in yourself and not yourself in the art.

Let the lover be disgraceful, crazy, absent-minded. Someone sober will worry about events going badly. Let the lover be.

Go to the truth beyond the mind. Love is the bridge.

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

I have decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear.

Where love is concerned, too much is not even enough.

Love sought is good, but given unsought is better.

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.

An orange on the table, your dress on the rug, and you in my bed, sweet present of the present, cool of night, warmth of my life.

We who were loved will never unlive that crippling fever.

Love cures people -- both the ones who give it and the ones who receive it.

Whether life is worth living depends on whether there is love in life.

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

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

Love is what we are born with. Fear is what we learn. The spiritual journey is the unlearning of fear and prejudices and the acceptance of love back in our hearts. Love is the essential reality and our purpose on earth. To be consciously aware of it, to experience love in ourselves and others, is the meaning of life. Meaning does not lie in things. Meaning lies in us.

A lover, when he is admitted to cards, ought to be solemnly silent, and observe the motions of his mistress. He must laugh when she laughs, sigh when she sighs. In short, he should be the shadow of her mind. A lady, in the presence of her lover, should never want a looking-glass; as a beau, in the presence of his looking-glass, never wants a mistress.

He who is in love is wise and is becoming wiser, sees newly every time he looks at the object beloved, drawing from it with his eyes and his mind those virtues which it possesses.

When once estrangement has arisen between those who truly love each other, everything seems to widen the breach.

Never marry but for love; but see that thou lovest what is lovely.

Love is the last relay and ultimate outposts of eternity.

Love is or it ain't. Thin love ain't love at all.

We are all born for love. It is the principle of existence, and its only end.

Life's greatest happiness is to be convinced we are loved.

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.

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

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

My love admits no qualifying dross.

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

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

A supreme love, a motive that gives a sublime rhythm to a woman's life, and exalts habit into partnership with the soul's highest needs, is not to be had where and how she wills.

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.

It is wrong to think that love comes from long companionship and persevering courtship. Love is the offspring of spiritual affinity and unless that affinity is created in a moment, it will not be created for years or even generations.

Love is the delusion that one man or woman differs from another.

Love, you are eternal like springtime.

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