Quotes About Love

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

Serve God, love me, and mend.:

my heart is wondrous light, Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd.

If it be love indeed, tell me how much. There's beggary in the love that can be reckoned. I'll set a bourn how far to be beloved. Then must thou needs find out new heaven, new earth.

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...

All love's pleasure shall not match its woe.

A woman would run through fire and water for such a kind heart.

William Shakespeare

If she do bid me pack, I'll give her thanks As though she bid me stay by her a week. If she deny to wed, I'll crave the day When I shall ask the banns, and when be married.

When love begins to sicken and decay It useth an enforced ceremony. There are no tricks in plain and simple faith: But hollow men, like horses hot at hand, Make gallant show, and promise of their mettle.

Methinks, mistress, you should have little reason for that: and yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together now-a-days; the more the pity that some honest neighbours will not make them friends.

For thy sweet love remembr'd such wealth brings That then, I scorn to change my state with kings.

Still so cruel? Still so constant, lord.

O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. 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.

I will go tell him of Hermia's flight: Then to the wood will he to-morrow night Pursue her; and for this intelligence If I have thanks, it is a dear expense: But herein mean I to enrich my pain, To have his sight thither and back again.

Prophet may you be! If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth, when time is old and hath forgot itself, when waterdrops have worn the stones of Troy, and blind oblivion swallowed cities up, and mighty states characterless are grated to dusty nothing, yet let memory, from false to false, among false maids in love, upbraid my falsehood!

Marry, peace it bodes, and love, and quiet life, and, to be short, what not that's sweet and happy.

Come, Lady, die to live.

O, learn to love, the lesson is but plain, And once made perfect, never lost again.

Teach not thy lip such scorn, for it was made For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.

do much wonder that one man, seeing how much another man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviors to love, will, after he hath laughed at such shallow follies in others, become the argument of his own scorn by falling in love:

Never durst a poet touch a pen to write Until his ink was tempered with love's sighs.

Where souls do couch on flowers we'll hand in hand...

But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive, And, constant stars, in them I read such art, As truth and beauty shall together thrive If from thyself to store thou wouldst convert; Or else of thee I prognosticate, Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date.