Quotes About Love

Ask us, prophet, how we shall callOur natures forth when that live tongue is allDispelled, that glass obscured or brokenIn which we have said the rose of our love and the cleanHorse of our courage, in which beheldThe singing locust of the soul unshelled,And all we mean or wish to mean.

Apology" A word sticks in the wind's throat; A wind-launch drifts in the swells of rye; Sometimes, in broad silence, The hanging apples distill their darkness. You, in a green dress, calling, and with brown hair, Who come by the field-path now, whose name I say Softly, forgive me love if I also call you Wind's word, apple-heart, haven of grasses.

It is always a matter, my darling, Of life or death, as I had forgotten. I wish What I wished you before, but harder.

If the king had given me for my own Paris, his citadel, And I for that must leave alone Her whom I love so well, I'd say then to the Crown Take back your glittering town My darling is more fair, I swear. My darling is more fair.

Yes, death is far less dire to contemplate Than a forced marriage to an unloved mate

But I am weary of The winter way of loving things for reasons. — Richard Wilbur, from "Winter Spring," New and Collected Poems (HBJ, 1988)

Then the tempest cleared away, and the blue sky appeared once more. Giauna had regained consciousness, and when she saw Kung lying dead beside her she said amid sobs: "He died for my sake! Why should I continue to live?" A-Sung also came out, and together they carried him into the cave. Giauna told A-Sung to hold his head while her brother opened his mouth. She herself took hold of his chin, and brought out her little red pellet. She pressed it against his lips with

Pour vous faire aimer, demandez un service.

Love grows from stable relationships, shared experience, loyalty, devotion, trust.

I have seen Christians in Communist prisons with fifty pounds of chains on their feet, tortured with red-hot iron pokers, in whose throats spoonfuls of salt had been forced, being kept afterward without water, starving, whipped, suffering from cold —and praying with fervor for the Communists. This is humanly inexplicable! It is the love of Christ, which was poured out in our hearts.

Solomon's Song belongs to those who have made the greatest renunciation of all: the renunciation of self. For them, only the Beloved counts.

Finally, we should note that in the Song, the Bridegroom is sometimes called a king and the bride a queen. Sometimes he is a shepherd; sometimes they are workers in the vineyard. Sometimes they are in a palace; sometimes in the field. This teaches that people of all social classes are called to participate in spiritual life at the highest level.

We will respond, even in the face of irony and slander, with the sweetness of love. We can afford to take this attitude because good anvils do not fear the blows of many hammers.

Where there is love, it is Jesus that will surely triumph.

Materialists do not love matter. They have no sense of its "earnest expectation" (Romans 8:19), and do not sympathize with its "bondage of corruption" (Romans 8:21).

I hate the Communist system but I love the men. I hate the sin but I love the sinner.

The Bible he gave me was written not so much in words but in flames of love, fired by his prayers.

My only prayer repeated again and again was "Jesus, I love you.

The language of love and the language of seduction are the same. The one who wishes a girl for a wife and the one who wishes her for only a night both say the words, "I love you." Jesus has told us to discern between the language of seduction and the language of love, and to know the wolves clad in sheepskin from the real sheep.

If you had refused to descend to men, you would have been my distant dream. If you had refused to sow your word, I would love you without hearing it. If you had hesitated and fled from the crucifixion, and I were not saved, I would still love you. If you were a myth, I would leave reality and live with you in a dream.

God will judge us not according to how much we endured, but how much we could love

Did I believe in God? Now the test had come. I was alone. There was no salary to earn, no golden opinions to consider. God offered me only suffering—would I continue to love Him?

Not all of us are called to die a martyr's death, but all of us are called to have the same spirit of self-sacrifice and love to the very end as these martyrs had.

Often, after a secret service, Christians were caught and sent to prison. There, Chris­tians wear chains with the gladness with which a bride wears a precious jewel received from her beloved.