Love Quotes
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I think the hardest person to love is yourself I mean – You carry your flaws like burdens And you feel them on your skin The words you shouldn't have said Still echo in your head So you keep quiet Your mistakes, like monsters They haunt you And you put them to sleep every night The words you should've said Still echo in your head I bet you'd give yourself a chance If you were someone else instead
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The horse world is populated by two kinds of people: those who love horses, and those who exploit horses and the people who love them.
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To love in the sense of passion-love is the contrary of to live. It is an impoverishment of one's being, an askesis without sequel, an inability to enjoy the present without imagining it as absent, a never-ending flight from possession.
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Deep in earth my love is lying And I must weep alone.
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Thrice happy he, who by some shady grove, Far from the clamorous world; doth live his own; Though solitary, who is not alone, But doth converse with that eternal love.
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Love finds us where we are, not where we were.
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We are not held back by the love we didn't receive in the past, but by the love we're not extending in the present.
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You can't show love to someone at the expense of someone else who loves you.
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Love means giving something you don't have to someone who doesn't want it.
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I love to go bungee jumping, jump out of planes, ride motorbikes, do kickboxing. I love all that stuff.
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I think when you are young, you are hoping that this person will be the right one. The one you are going to be in love with forever, but sometimes you want that so much, you create something that isn't really there.
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We don't forgive because we agree with actions. We forgive so we can occupy our hearts with love.
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An old woman I loved very much when I was young - the wife of Jean Villard - she's just reciting poetry all the time, which is beautiful because it means she went back to the world of poetry that she loved when she was young. That's all she does - she almost doesn't recognize her children, but she recites Valéry and Baudelaire. So what? We're the ones who are suffering. She's not.
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Alas! for that accursed time They bore thee o'er the billow, From love to titled age and crime, And an unholy pillow! From me, and from our misty clime, Where weeps the silver willow!
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Man is sometimes extraordinarily, passionately, in love with suffering.
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An exchange occurs between man and woman. Love and thought complete each other in the human pair, and something like an exchange of souls takes place, according to the divine plan.
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The only victory love can enjoy is the day when its offer of love is answered by the return of love. The only possible final triumph is a universe loved by God and in love with God.
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One hour of love has a whole life in it.
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I would not a bit mind sleeping in the cool grass in summer, and when winter came on sheltering myself by the warm close-thatched rick, or under the penthouse of a great barn, provided I had love in my heart.
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We cannot be truly Christian people so long as we flaunt the central teachings of Jesus: brotherly love and the Golden Rule.
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God gives us love! Something to love He lends us; but when love is grown To ripeness, that on which it throve Falls off, and love is left alone: This is the curse of time.
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There are three things men can do with women: love them, suffer for them, or turn them into literature.
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I love thee, and it is my love that speaks.
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As to the artists, do we not know that he only of them whom love inspires has the light of fame?-he whom love touches not walks in darkness.
