Quotes About Love

Because your eyes are slant and slow, Because your hair is sweet to touch, My heart is high again; but oh, I doubt if this will get me much.

Pictures pass me in long review,-- Marching columns of dead events. I was tender, and, often, true; Ever a prey to coincidence. Always knew I the consequence; Always saw what the end would be. We're as Nature has made us -- hence I loved them until they loved me.

Accursed from their birth they be Who seek to find monogamy, Pursuing it from bed to bed— I think they would be better dead.

God, the bitter misery that reading works into this world! Everybody knows that - everbody who IS everybody. All the best minds have been off reading for years. Look at the swing La Rouchefoucauld took at it. He said that if nobody had ever learned to read, very few people would be in love. Good for you, La Rouchefoucauld; nice going, boy. I wish I'd never learned to read.

L'amour c'est comme du mercure dans la main. Garde-là ouverte, il te restera dans la paume ; resserre ton étreinte, il te filera entre les doigts.

Coda There's little in taking or giving, There's little in water or wine; This living, this living, this living Was never a project of mine. Oh, hard is the struggle, and sparse is The gain of the one at the top, For art is a form of catharsis, And love is a permanent flop, And work is the province of cattle, And rest's for a clam in a shell, So I'm thinking of throwing the battle- Would you kindly direct me to hell?

Oh, it's so easy to be sweet to people before you love them.

And let her loves, when she is dead Write this above her bones, No more she lives to give us bread Who asked her only stones.

By the time you swear you're his, shivering and sighing, And he vows his passion is infinite,undying-Lady,make a note of this: One of you is lying

Every love's the love before In a duller dress.

The lads I've met in cupid's deadlock Were - shall we say? - born out of wedlock

He's always with me, he and all his beauty and his cruelty.

Oh, gallant was the first love, and glittering and fine; The second love was water, in a clear white cup; The third love was his, and the fourth was mine; And after that, I always get them all mixed up.

Four be the things I am wiser to know: Idleness, sorrow, a friend, or a foe. Four be the things I'd been better without: Love, curiosity, freckles, and doubt. Three be the things I shall never attain: Envy, content, and sufficient Champagne. Three be the things I shall have till I die: Laughter and hope, and a sock in the eye.

Iubirea e ca mercurul in mana. Tine-o deschisa si iti va ramane in plama; strange pumnul si iti va curge printre degete.

Oh, it's so easy to be sweet to people before you love them. I

De Profundis Oh, is it, then, Utopian To hope that I may meet a man Who'll not relate, in accents suave, The tales of girls he used to have?

I wish he were dead. That's a terrible wish. That's a lovely wish. If he were dead, he would be mine. If he were dead, I would never think of now and the last few weeks. I would remember only the lovely times. It would be all beautiful. I wish he were dead. I wish he were dead, dead, dead.

Love is like quick-silver in the hand, Sylvie. Leave the fingers open and it stays in the palm; clutch it, and it darts away.

ANECDOTE So silent I when love was by He yawned, and turned away; But sorrow clings to my apron-strings, I have so much to say.

Four be the things I'd been better without: Love, curiosity, freckles, and doubt. Three be the things I shall never attain: Envy, content, and sufficient champagne.

For this my mother wrapped me warm, And called me home against the storm, And coaxed my infant nights to quiet, And gave me roughage in my diet, And tucked me in my bed at eight, And clipped my hair, and marked my weight, And watched me as I sat and stood: That I might grow to womanhood To hear a whistle and drop my wits And break my heart to clattering bits.

El amor es la única cosa. Atesora tu amor, niña. Vuelve junto a él. Vete a la cama con él. Es la única cosa.

Si nadie hubiera aprendido a leer, muy pocos se habrían enamorado Si nadie hubiera aprendido a desnudarse, muy pocas personas estarían enamoradas