Quotes About Affection

Ferdinand:… Here's my hand.Miranda: And mine, with my heart in't.

You are my true and honorable wife,As dear to me as are the ruddy dropsThat visit my sad heart.

Look, how my ring encompasseth thy finger,Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart;Wear both of them, for both of them are thine.

Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter.

Jaques: What stature is she of?Orlando: Just as high as my heart.

Therefore love moderately; long love doth so;Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.

I humbly do beseech you of your pardonFor too much loving you.

Thou hast nor youth nor age;But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep,Dreaming on both; for all thy blessed youthBecomes as aged, and doth beg the almsOf palsied eld; and when thou art old and rich,Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty,To make thy riches pleasant.

There's beggary in the love that can be reckon'd.

Then, let thy love be younger than thyself,Or thy affection cannot hold the bent;For women are as roses, whose fair flowerBeing once display'd, doth fall that very hour.

This word "love," which greybeards call divine.

Love sought is good, but given unsought, is better.

The love of heaven makes one heavenly.

Sweets to the sweet.

Kiss me, Kate, we will be married o' Sunday.

They do not love that do not show their love. The course of true love never did run smooth. Love is a familiar. Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but Love.

I lov'd Ophelia: forty thousand brothersCould not, with all their quantity of love,Make up my sum.

Was ever woman in this humor woo'd?Was ever woman in this humor won?

Though last, not least in love.

Down on your knees,And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's love.

For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth bringsThat then I scorn to change my state with kings.

I understand thy kisses and thou mine,And that's a feeling disputation.

Sweets to the sweet: farewell!

And the imperial votaress passed on,In maiden meditation, fancy-free.Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell:It fell upon a little western flower,Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound,And maidens call it, Love-in-idleness.