Loves Quotes
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This is how it essentially is for Bunny Junior. He loves his dad. He thinks there is no dad better, cleverer, or more capable, and he stands there beside him with a sense of pride - he's my dad - and he also, of course, stands beside him because he has nowhere else to go.
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The thing that I think is so depressing, fundamentally, about Donald Trump, is that he doesn't appreciate what's happening right now. He doesn't seem to think it's an honor. He doesn't seem to understand why we're actually super blessed to have the government we have. I also don't ever get the sense that he loves Americans.
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No one loves an archive better than I do. I can smell a good one half-a-block away - all that brittle papyrus dust is music to my nostrils.
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The man who loves his job never works a day in his life.
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You never understand anybody that loves you.
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It is vital that each sister have visiting teachers,to convey a sense that she is needed, that someone loves and thinks about her. But equally important is the way the visiting teacher is able to grow in charity. By assigning our women to do visiting teaching, we give them the opportunity to develop the pure love of Christ, which can be the greatest blessing of their lives.
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Well, these sad and hopeless obstacles are welcome in one sense, for they enable us to look with indifference upon the cruel satires that Fate loves to indulge in.
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I have never seen one who really loves goodness or one who really hates wickedness. One who really loves goodness will not place anything above it. One who really hates wickedness will practice goodness in such a way that wickedness will have no chance to get at him. Is there anyone who has devoted his whole strength to doing good for even as long as a single day? I have not seen anyone give up such an attempt because he had not the strength to go on. Perhaps there is such a case, but I have never seen it.
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But what can be done, the one who loves must share the fate of the who is loved.
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The gods loves to punish whatever is greater than the rest.
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No, my dear, I'm not in love with you, no more than you are with me, and if I were, you would be the last person I'd ever tell. God help the man who ever really loves you. You'd break his heart, my darling, cruel, destructive little cat who is so careless and confident she doesn't even trouble to sheathe her claws.
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Your hair loves it; everything loves water, you know. So I don't drink soda. I don't drink the devil's juice. Everyone knows what I mean when I say that. I don't drink no alcohol, never!
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He loves but little who can say and count in words, how much he loves.
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She loves performing - they end up standing and cheering. She loves being independent, she loves making money on her own. She doesn't need to, but old folks worry about money, and this is one way to keep the paranoia at bay.
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All loves should be simply stepping stones to the love of God. So it was with me; and blessed be his name for his great goodness and mercy.
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She loves you," the Prince cried. "She loves you still and you love her, so think of that – think of this too: in all this world, you might have been happy, genuinely happy. Not one couple in a century has that chance, not really, no matter what the storybooks say, but you could have had it, and so, I would think, no one will ever suffer a loss as great as you.
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If a man loves a woman for her beauty, does he love her? No; for the smallpox, which destroys her beauty without killing her, causes his love to cease. And if any one loves me for my judgment or my memory, does he really love me? No; for I can lose these qualities without ceasing to be.
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Better than the one who knows what is right is the one who loves what is right.
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For what we suppose to be our love or our jealousy is never a single, continuous and indivisible passion. It is composed of an infinity of successive loves, of different jealousies, each of which is ephemeral, although by their uninterrupted multiplicity they give us the impression of continuity, the illusion of unity.
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The headiest loves were the loves that couldn't be.
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My inner wolf seeks to destroy the one I love for reasons of self-preservation. For the only cure to free my soul is to be killed, in an act of true love, by the one who loves me most.
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* if someone loves a flower, of which just one single blossom grows, in all the millions of stars, it is enough to make him happy just to look at the stars.
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Yet I am not more sure that my soul lives, than I am that perverseness is one of the primitive impulses of the human heartone of the indivisible primary faculties, or sentiments, which give direction to the character of Man.
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To the man who loves art for its own sake, it is frequently in its least important and lowliest manifestations that the keenest pleasure is to be derived.
