All natural goods perish. Riches take wings; fame is a breath; love is a cheat; youth and health and pleasure vanish.
Love is a cunning weaver of fantasies and fables.
Love is the force that leaves you colorless
Evidence of trust begets trust, and love is reciprocated by love.
Failure to love is almost like murder.
Real love isn't ever ambivalent.
I kept arguing that 'love is the most important force, love is the most important force.' So I wanted to show him loving. Sometimes it's dramatic: it means you lay down your life. But sometimes it means making sure someone's trunk is packed and hoping they'll be O.K. at school.
Love is the true condition of human life.
Love is when you don't have to be with another person to touch their heart!
I freeze and burn, love is bitter and sweet, my sighs are tempests and my tears are floods, I am in ecstasy and agony, I am possessed by memories of her and I am in exile from myself.
Love is the crowning grace of humanity.
Men are less hesitant about harming someone who makes himself loved than one who makes himself feared because love is held together by a chain of obligation which, since men are wretched creatures, is broken on every occasion in which their own interests are concerned; but fear is sustained by dread of punishment which will never abandon you.
To live is to love,to serve, to forgive. Love the One, love and serve humanity. To learn to love oneself and to love is to learn to forgive
I like being liked, who doesn’t? But I love being hated.
Love is the grandest thing on God's earth, but fortunate the lover who has plenty of money.
Love is like the lightning, and your maturity is signaled by the extent to which you can accept the dangers and the power and the beauty of love.
You don't know what love is, until you've learned the meaning of the blues, until you've loved a love you've had to lose.
If it weren't for music, I would think that love is mortal.
True values entail suffering. That’s the way we think. All in all, we tend to view melancholia as more true. We prefer music and art to contain a touch of melancholia. So melancholia in itself is a value. Unhappy and unrequited love is more romantic than happy love. For we don’t think that’s completely real, do we?…Longing is true. It may be that there’s no truth at all to long for, but the longing itself is true. Just like pain is true. We feel it inside. It’s part of our reality.
Love is not a contract between two narcissists.
Love and politics are the two great figures of social engagement. Politics is enthusiasm with a collective; with love, two people. So love is the minimal form of communism.
The nuns taught us there are two ways through life... the way of Nature... and the way of Grace. You have to choose which one you'll follow. Grace doesn't try to please itself. Accepts being slighted, forgotten, disliked. Accepts insults and injuries. Nature only wants to please itself. Get others to please it too. Likes to lord it over them. To have its own way. It finds reasons to be unhappy... when all the world is shining around it... when love is smiling through all things.
Value God and his love more than all the world, though there were millions of them. He valued you before the world, and therefore is beforehand with you in his love. He not only loved you from everlasting, (whereas your love is but of yesterday,) but in the valuation of it, he loved you before all worlds, and preferred you to all worlds: though you loved the world first, before you loved him.
Consider love: is there a nobler outpouring, a rapture less suspect? Its shudders rival music, compete with the tears of solitude and of ecstasy: sublime...but a sublimity inseperable from the urinary tract: transports bordering upon excretion, a heaven of the glands, sudden sancitity of the orifices. It takes no more than a moment of attention for this intoxication, shaken, to cast you back into the ordures of physiology or a moment of fatigue to recognize that so much ardor produces only a variety of mucous.
Losing love is so rich a philosophical ordeal that it makes a hairdresser into a rival of Socrates.
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