Motivational Quotes

A proof that experience is of no use, is that the end of one love does not prevent us from beginning another.

We can only learn to love by loving.

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 and pity and wish well to every soul in the world; dwell in love, and then you dwell in God.

Love is an emotion that is based on an opinion of women that is impossible for those who have had any experience with them.

Be that self which one truly is.

My God, these folks don't know how to love -- that's why they love so easily.

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

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

I love you, not for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you.

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.

People love others not for who they are, but for how they make them feel.

Love is all you need.

Such is the inconsistency of real love, that it is always awake to suspicion, however unreasonable; always requiring new assurances from the object of its interest.

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

For love... has two faces; one white, the other black; two bodies; one smooth, the other hairy. It has two hands, two feet, two tails, two, indeed, of every member and each one is the exact opposite of the other. Yet, so strictly are they joined together

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

No woman marries for money; they are all clever enough, before marrying a millionaire, to fall in love with him first.

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.

We only love truly once. It is the first time and succeeding passions are less uncontrolled.

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.

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

Love alone can unite living beings so as to complete and fulfill them... for it alone joins them by what is deepest in themselves. All we need is to imagine our ability to love developing until it embraces the totality of men and the earth.

Love's pure silver flame gives each innermost spirit invisible warmth.

I was nauseous and tingly all over. I was either in love or I had smallpox.

I believe the greatest gift I can conceive of having from anyone is to be seen by them, heard by them, to be understood and touched by them.

The story of a love is not important -- what is important is that one is capable of love. It is perhaps the only glimpse we are permitted of eternity.

Love wholeheartedly, be surprised, give thanks and praise then you will discover the fullness of your life.

You can give without loving, but you cannot love without giving.

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

This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong, to love that well which thou must leave ere long.

To fail to love is not to exist at all.

If we seek the pleasures of love, passion should be occasional, and common sense continual.

Love is not altogether a delirium, yet it has many points in common therewith.

This is my commandment, that ye love one another. [Jesus, In John 15:12]

Fantasy love is much better than reality love. Never doing it is very exciting. The most exciting attractions are between two opposites that never meet.

If there is anything better than to be loved it is loving.

Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish it's source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of withering, of tarnishing.

Take away love and our earth is a tomb.

Love is a perky elf dancing a merry little jig and then suddenly he turns on you with a miniature machine gun.

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.

Many people when they fall in love look for a little haven of refuge from the world, where they can be sure of being admired when they are not admirable, and praised when they are not praiseworthy.

The magic of first love is our ignorance that it can never end.

The richest love is that which submits to the arbitration of time.

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.

Everybody forgets the basic thing; people are not going to love you unless you love them.

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

Love can never grow old. Locks may lose their brown and gold. Cheeks may fade and hollow grow. But the hearts that love will know, never winter's frost and chill, summer's warmth is in them still.

Fall not in love, therefore; it will stick to your face.

The snow goose need not bathe to make itself white. Neither need you do anything but be yourself.

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