Motivational Quotes

Love is an emotion experienced by the many and enjoyed by the few.

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

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

If somebody says, I love you, to me, I feel as though I had a pistol pointed at my head. What can anybody reply under such conditions but that which the pistol-holder requires? I love you, too.

Can there be a love which does not make demands on its object?

Who travels for love finds a thousand miles not longer than one.

Life is the flower for which love is the honey.

I will wear my heart upon my sleeve for daws to peck at.

If you could only love enough, you could be the most powerful person in the world.

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

What then in love can woman do? If we grow fond they shun us. And when we fly them, they pursue: But leave us when they've won us.

Love is seeing without eyes, hearing without ears; hatred is nothing.

It is not love that should be depicted as blind, but self-love.

The way it actually works is the reverse. You must first be who you really are, then do what you need to do, in order to have what you want.

No one worth possessing can be quite possessed.

Pure love is a willingness to give without a thought of receiving anything in return.

The sweetest joy, the wildest woe is love.

If any person wish to be idle, let them fall in love.

But when a young lady is to be a heroine, the perverseness of forty surrounding families cannot prevent her. Something must and will happen to throw a hero in her way.

We cease loving ourselves if no one loves us.

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

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

Could you imagine how horrible things would be if we always told others how we felt? Life would be intolerably bearable.

Don't smother each other. No one can grow in the shade.

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.

Love is a friendship caught on fire.

Love is the irresistible desire to be desired irresistibly.

A woman who could always love would never grow old; and the love of mother and wife would often give or preserve many charms if it were not too often combined with parental and conjugal anger. There remains in the face of women who are naturally serene and peaceful, and of those rendered so by religion, an after-spring, and later an after-summer, the reflex of their most beautiful bloom.

There is love of course. And then there's life, its enemy.

You make me understand how wonderful it is for little lizards when they find that one special rock that's perfect for sunning themselves on. You make me lizard-happy.

The best way to forget ones self is to look at the world with attention and 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.

However it is debased or misinterpreted, love is a redemptive feature. To focus on one individual so that their desires become superior to yours is a very cleansing experience.

To love is to place our happiness in the happiness of another.

Maybe kissing is sort of like nature's coffee.

Those that embrace the entire universe with love, for the most part love nothing, but their narrow selves.

We were two and had but one heart between us.

A love affair with knowledge will never end in heartbreak.

Every man loves what he is good at.

Love talked about is easily turned aside, but love demonstrated is irresistible.

Take away love and our earth is a tomb.

The love boat has crashed against the everyday.

Love, you are eternal like springtime.

To always be loved one must ever be agreeable.

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

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

Like the measles, love is most dangerous when it comes late in life.

If love means that one person absorbs the other, then no real relationship exists any more. Love evaporates; there is nothing left to love. The integrity of self is gone.

Love is an act of endless forgiveness, a tender look which becomes a habit.

The way to a woman's heart is through your wallet.

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