Quotes About Love

Beshrew your eyes, They have o'erlook'd me and divided me; One half of me is yours, the other half yours, Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours, And so all yours.

Do all men kill all the things they do not love? Shylock: Hates any man the thing he would not kill? Bassanio: Every offence is not a hate at first.

He eats nothing but doves, love, and that breeds hot blood, and hot blood beget hot thoughts, and hot thoughts beget hot deeds, and hot deeds is love.

The expedition of my violent love outrun the pauser, reason.

Those he commands move only in command, Nothing in love: now does he feel his title Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe Upon a dwarfish thief

We that are true lovers run into strange capers. But as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly.

The April's in her eyes: it is love's Spring, And these the showers to bring it on..

Because it is a customary cross, As die to love as thoughts, and dreams, and sighs, Wishes, and tears, poor fancy's followers.

Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate, Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving: O, but with mine compare thou thine own state, And thou shalt find it merits not reproving

All is the fear, and nothing is the love, as little is the wisdom, where the flight so runs against all reason.

Juliet is the east and i am the sun.

I am gone, though I am here. There is no love in you. Nay, I pray you let me go.

Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can, It cannot countervail the exchange of joy That one short minute gives me in her sight: Do thou but close our hands with holy words, Then love-devouring death do what he dare; It is enough I may but call her mine.

I read that I profess, the Art of Love. Bianca: And may you prove, sir, master of your art! Lucentio: While you, sweet dear, prove mistress of my heart!

Is there no pity sitting in the clouds That sees into the bottom of my grief? O sweet my mother, cast me not away! Delay this marriage for a month, a week, Or if you do not, make the bridal bed In that dim monument where Tybalt lies.

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come: Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.

I dote on his very absence.

Is love a tender thing? it is too rough, Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn. Mercutio: If love be rough with you, be rough with love; Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.

Therefore was I created with a stubborn outside, with an aspect of iron, that when I come to woo ladies, I fright them. But, in faith, Kate, the elder I wax, the better I shall appear. My comfort is that old age, that ill layer-up of beauty, can do no more spoil upon my face. Thou hast me, if thou hast me, at the worst, and thou shalt wear me, if thou wear me, better and better.

Let still woman take An elder than herself: so wears she to him, So sways she level in her husband's heart, For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, More longing, wavering, sooner to be lost and warn, Than women's are.

and when he dies, cut him out in little stars, and the face of heaven will be so fine that all the world will be in love with night and pay no heed to the garish sun.

Alack, sir, no; her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love. We cannot call her winds and waters sighs and tears; they are greater storms and tempests than almanacs can report: this cannot be cunning in her; if it be, she makes a shower of rain as well as Jove.

My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw.