Motivational Quotes

Let no one believe that he has received the divine kiss, if he knows the truth without loving it or loves it without understanding it. But blessed is that kiss whereby not only is God recognized but also the Father is loved; for there is never full knowledge without perfect love.

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

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.

Teach only love for that is what you are.

My tears of love are a waste of time if I turn away

Love is much nicer to be in than an automobile accident, a tight girdle, a higher tax bracket, or a holding pattern over Philadelphia.

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.

I would rather live and love where death is king than have eternal life where love is not.

I leave before being left. I decide.

Love is not enough. It must be the foundation, the cornerstone -- but not the complete structure. It is much too pliable, too yielding.

Love one another and you will be happy. It's as simple and as difficult as that.

Love is a given, hatred is acquired.

Love is a conflict between reflexes and reflections.

To love and be loved is the great happiness of existence.

Only the really plain people know about love --the very fascinating ones try so hard to create an impression that they very soon exhaust their talents.

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

Love, love, love -- all the wretched cant of it, masking egotism, lust, masochism, fantasy under a mythology of sentimental postures, a welter of self-induced miseries and joys, blinding and masking the essential personalities in the frozen gestures of courtship, in the kissing and the dating and the desire, the compliments and the quarrels which vivify its barrenness.

Clenched Soul

We have lost even this twilight.
No one saw us this evening hand in hand
while the blue night dropped on the world.

I have seen from my window
the fiesta of sunset in the distant mountain tops.
Sometimes a piece of sun
burned like a coin in my hand.

I remembered you with my soul clenched
in that sadness of mine that you know.

Where were you then?
Who else was there?
Saying what?
Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly
when I am sad and feel you are far away?

The book fell that always closed at twilight
and my blue sweater rolled like a hurt dog at my feet.

Always, always you recede through the evenings
toward the twilight erasing statues.

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.

Today I begin to understand what love must be, if it exists. When we are parted, we each feel the lack of the other half of ourselves. We are incomplete like a book in two volumes of which the first has been lost. That is what I imagine love to be: incompleteness in absence.

Lord, grant that I might not so much seek to be loved as to love.

He is not a lover who does not love forever.

Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song, A medley of extemporanea; And love is a thing that can never go wrong; And I am Marie of Romania.

The man who has never made a fool of himself in love will never be wise in love.

Listen! Encourage. Say something. Do something. Be yourself. Love

There are few people who are not ashamed of their love affairs when the infatuation is over.

True love brings up everything - you're allowing a mirror to be held up to you daily.

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

The rose speaks of love silently, in a language known only to the heart.

God proved His love on the Cross. When Christ hung, and bled, and died, it was God saying to the world, I love you.

It's afterwards you realize that the feeling of happiness you had with a man didn't necessarily prove that you loved him.

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.

Well-ordered self-love is right and natural.

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

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

And ruin'd love when it is built anew, Grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater.

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

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

Let the first impulse pass, wait for the second.

Love, by its very nature, is unworldly, and it is for this reason rather than its rarity that it is not only apolitical but anti-political, perhaps the most powerful of all anti-political human forces.

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.

Only the words of love kept alive are worthy of not being wasted

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.

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

I know that I can give love for a minute, for half an hour; for a day, for a month, but I can give and I'm very happy to do that and I want to do that.

Every man loves what he is good at.

One who has not only the four S's, which are required in every good lover, but even the whole alphabet; as for example... Agreeable, Bountiful, Constant, Dutiful, Easy, Faithful, Gallant, Honorable, Ingenious, Kind, Loyal, Mild, Noble, Officious, Prudent, Quiet, Rich, Secret, True, Valiant, Wise; the X indeed, is too harsh a letter to agree with him, but he is Young and Zealous.

I believe love produces a certain flowering of the whole personality which nothing else can achieve.

Subdue your passion or it will subdue you.

Love is the bridge between two hearts.

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