Motivational Quotes

Love and work are the cornerstones of our humanness.

Love makes everything that is heavy light.

Love is not the dying moan of a distant violin-it's the triumphant twang of a bedspring.

Love is the river of life in the world.

'Tis the most tender part of love, each other to forgive.

Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead.

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 always come back to our first love.

Women are often under the impression that men are much more madly in love with them than they really are.

The hottest love has the coldest end.

Love shall be our token; love be yours and love be mine.

To love another person is to see the face of God. [Les Miserables]

Every man loves what he is good at.

Love is a tyrant sparing none.

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.

But miserable most, to love unloved? This you should pity rather than despise.

Every man needs two women, a quiet home-maker, and a thrilling nymph.

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

At the center of non-violence stands the principle of love.

He who is not impatient is not in love.

It is a beautiful trait in the lovers character, that they think no evil of the object loved.

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

Whenever you are confronted with an opponent. Conquer him with love.

Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies.

Love is the total absence of fear. Love asks no questions. Its natural state is one of extension and expansion, not comparison and measurement.

To fall in love is to create a religion that has a fallible god.

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

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.

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

People who do not love themselves can adore others, because adoration is making someone else big and ourselves small. They can desire others, because desire comes out of a sense of inner incompleteness, which demands to be filled. But they can not love others, because love is an affirmation of the living growing being in all of us. If you don't have it, you can't give it.

When you love someone all your saved-up wishes start coming out.

All love that has not friendship for its base, is like a mansion built upon sand.

If I love you, what business is it of yours?

Love is an expression and assertion of self-esteem, a response to one's own values in the person of another. One gains a profoundly personal, selfish joy from the mere existence of the person one loves. It is one's own personal, selfish happiness that one seeks, earns, and derives from love.

Who is wise in love, love most, say least.

Love can neither be bought or sold, its only price is love.

Love is what you've been through with somebody.

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

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.

Pity the selfishness of lovers: it is brief, a forlorn hope; it is impossible.

What's so remarkable about Love at first sight? It's when people have been looking at each other for years that it becomes remarkable.

It is here, my daughters, that love is to be found -- not hidden away in corners but in the midst of occasions of sin. And believe me, although we may more often fail and commit small lapses, our gain will be incomparably the greater.

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.

We will invent new lullabies, new songs, new acts of love, we will cry over things we used to laugh and our new wisdom will bring tears to eyes of gentle creatures from other planets who were afraid of us till then and in the end a summer with wild winds and new friends will be.

But love is blind and lovers cannot see The pretty follies that themselves commit; For if they could, Cupid himself would blush To see me thus transformed to a boy.

To fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already three parts dead.

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

When love begins to sicken and decay it uses an enforced ceremony. [Julius Caesar]

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

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