Motivational Quotes

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

Love bears it out even to the edge of doom.

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

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

If we are to judge of love by its consequences, it more nearly resembles hatred than friendship.

A man has only one escape from his old self: to see a different self in the mirror of some woman's eyes.

One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life: That word is love.

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.

Great passions, my dear, don't exist: they're liars fantasies. What do exist are little loves that may last for a short or a longer while.

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

Love touched her heart, and lo! It beats high, and burns with such brave hearts.

What the world really needs is more love and less paper work.

What's terrible is to pretend that the second-rate is first-rate, that you don't need love when you do or that you like your work when you know quite well you're capable of better.

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

The chameleon Love can feed on the air.

Love without attachment is light.

Love comes when manipulation stops; when you think more about the other person than about his or her reactions to you. When you dare to reveal yourself fully. When you dare to be vulnerable.

What makes lovers never tire of one another is that they talk always about themselves.

Love is a state in which a man sees things most decidedly as they are not.

I hated her now with a hatred more fatal than indifference because it was the other side of love.

Passion makes the world go round. Love just makes it a safer place.

The way of peace is the way of love. Love is the greatest power on earth. It conquers all things.

Love... Force it and it disappears. You cannot will love, nor even control it. You can only guide its expression. It comes or it goes according to those qualities in life that invite it or deny its presence.

Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself. Love possesses not nor would it be possessed; For love is sufficient unto love.

Love is said to be blind, but I know some fellows in love who can see twice as much in their sweethearts as I do.

I cannot think well of a man who sports with any woman's feelings; and there may often be a great deal more suffered than a stander-by can judge of.

A man in love mistakes a pimple for a dimple.

There's only one me, and I'm stuck with him.

To be among people one loves, that's sufficient; to dream, to speak to them, to be silent among them, to think of indifferent things; but among them, everything is equal.

The best way will be to avoid each other without appearing to do so -- or if we jostle, at any rate not to bite.

The hottest love has the coldest end.

Love is never lost. If not reciprocated, it will flow back and soften and purify the heart.

In a great romance, each person plays a part the other really likes.

We cannot avoid using power, cannot escape the compulsion to afflict the world, so let us, cautious in diction and mighty in contradiction, love powerfully.

To love is to receive a glimpse of heaven.

But love is blind, and lovers cannot see What petty follies they themselves commit

Dive deep, O mind, dive deep in the ocean of God's beauty! If you descend to the uttermost depths, there you will find the gem of 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.

I pay very little regard...to what any young person says on the subject of marriage. If they profess a disinclination for it, I only set it down that they have not yet seen the right person.

Love seeks no cause beyond itself and no fruit; it is its own fruit, its own enjoyment. I love because I love; I love in order that I may love.

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.

In love, as in gluttony, pleasure is a matter of the utmost precision.

But the strong base and building of my love is as the very centre of the earth, drawing all things to it.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach.

I shall always be a priest of love.

LOVE, the feeling, is the fruit of LOVE, the verb.

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

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.

Madame, it is an old word and each one takes it new and wears it out himself. It is a word that fills with meaning as a bladder with air and the meaning goes out of it as quickly. It may be punctured as a bladder is punctured and patched and blown up again and if you have not had it does not exist for you. All people talk of it, but those who have had it are marked by it, and I would not wish to speak of it further since of all things it is the most ridiculous to talk of and only fools go through it many times.

There is only one happiness in life -- to love and to be loved.

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