Quotes About Devotion

To the King my estate and life These things are to be given; but honor It is a thing of the soul And the soul belongs to God alone.

When love is not madness, it is not love.

if i win and you die, i dont have a home to go back to. you are my life.

Work, but work with a flare, a love of the art so to speak, of doing what I love.

Outside of a person's love, the most sacred thing that they can give is their labor." -- James Carville

My love for you won't stop with my leaving. Come an evening over the years, when you step outside your door and hear the wind blowing through the cottonwoods, that'll be me, thinking of you, whispering your name, and loving you.

If I am never to have you again after this night, this moment, you will remain the wife of my soul. Keeper of my heart.

A heartfire, Clementine my darlin', is when you want someone, when you need her so damn bad, not only in your bed but in your life, that you're willin' to burn--".

What I've learned of love, I've learned from you. I don't believe in anything, but I believe in you.

Shay," she said. "Shay McKenna," as if trying out his name, saying it for the first time. "Did you ever love me, even a little?" Love you?" He turned his head and brushed his lips across her fingers. "I'm loving you now, mo chridh. After I'm dead, a thousand years from now, whatever's left of me, be it a soul or just a handful of dust, that will be loving you.

I couldn't let him have you, Jessalyn," he said, his throat raw. "I know that I am worthless, a degenerate Trelawny buried in debts. But you're all I've ever wanted out of this life, the only thing I will ever need. Without you I have no reason to live." He held his hands up to her, spreading them in supplication, and they shook as if he had an ague. "I have no pride left. You have it all.

He wanted to do everything over and do it right this time. He wanted to give her the world, but she had already given the world to him.

I love nuts. I'm for nuts. I am nuts.

It was her nature...her weakness, that for her loving another human being must always have this intensity...this absoluteness.

You are the wheel on which my life turns, Giselle, the heart of everything I do. I promise you that somehow we will find a way to set you free from your fear.

In that moment, she knew that whether or not it was too soon, she loved him. Now and forever.

In the instant that it took her to realize what the book was, she knew he was doing what she once had—preparing for the day by spending time with God. She wondered what the words he was singing meant. Were they in Gaelic or Cherokee? It really didn't matter. What mattered was that they were words of praise and probably thankfulness. What mattered was that he was the kind of man who spent time with his Creator.

The sad truth was that he feared he would never marry and have a family of his own. Meg was the only woman since his wild youth that made his blood sing. She was the only woman who made him want to be better, stronger. She was the only woman whose spirit cried out to him. For her sake, no matter how much he suffered, he had to ignore the call.

And then she said, "that's what love is. Still loving someone, in spite of knowing the bad things.

It's okay to love something bigger than yourself without fearing it. Anything worth loving is bigger than we are anyway.

The desire of the moth for the star,Of the night for the morrow,The devotion to something afarFrom the sphere of our sorrow.

See! the mountains kiss high heaven, And the waves clasp one another; No sister flower would be forgiven If it disdained its brother; And the sunlight clasps the earth, And the moonbeams kiss the sea: - What are all these kissings worth, If thou kiss not me?

One word is too often profaned For me to profane it, One feeling too falsely disdain'd For thee to disdain it. One hope too like dispair For prudence to smother, I can give not what men call love: But wilt thou accept not The worship the heart lifts above And heaven rejects not: The desire of the moth for the star, The devotion of something afar From the sphere of our sorrow?

I can give not what men call love; But wilt thou accept not The worship the heart lifts above And the heavens reject not: The desire of the moth for the star, Of the night for the morrow, The devotion to something afar From the sphere of our sorrow?