Quotes About Love

Se mai uitase o dat? la poetul r?pus de pl?ceri, se îmb?tase f?r? s? se sature de iubirea cea nobil?, care unea sim?urile cu inima ?i inima cu sim?urile, ca s? le ridice în înaltul cerului împreun?. Divinizarea aceasta, care face s? fim doi pe p?mânt ca s? sim?im, ?i unul singur în cer ca s? iubim, însemna pentru dânsa iertarea p?catelor.

What hopes must it raise in a young creature who, in the midst of sordid elements, had pined for a life of elegance! A sunbeam had fallen into the prison. Augustine was suddenly in love.

For a father it is hell to be without your children;

She was ignorant of love, having never known it, and, like all the other persons grouped about her, she saw nothing in marriage but a means of fortune. Passion was an unknown thing to these Catholic souls, these old people exclusively concerned about salvation, God, the king, and their property.

El amor es un poema enteramente personal.

Godefroid, lost in reflection, stared into his fire. He was absorbed in meditation on this great misery which contained so many different miseries, and yet within which he could see the ineffable joys of the many triumphs of paternal and filial love; they were gems shining in the blackness of the pit.

If light is the first love of life, is not love the light of the heart?

The first thing necessary to win the heart of a woman is opportunity.

Pensons à lui, ma mère, répondit Eugénie, et n'en parlons pas. Vous souffrez; vous avant tout. Tout c'était lui.

There are those for whom a woman would love to make such a sacrifice; even if, as often happens, it is for the sake of a man who cannot make allowances for an outbreak of temper.

She rolled over, giving a cry that froze my heart; and I saw her dying, still looking at me without anger.

they have tortured me for my sin of affection.

It is wonderful how you found the heart to do it! Such villainies demand a display of resource quite above the comprehension of those bourgeoises whom you laugh at and despise. They can give and forgive; they know how to love and suffer. The grandeur of their devotion dwarfs us. Rising higher in the social scale, one finds just as much mud as at the lower end; but with this difference, at the upper end it is hard and gilded over.

Agathe rose; her scissors and work fell at her feet; she went and kissed Joseph's head, and dropped two tears on his hair. "He is your passion, that fellow," said the painter. "We all have our hopeless passions

But first you got to get out of the library sometimes and meet somebody, 'cause it ain't legal to marry books.

And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to

thought of what Mama liked to say: to find this kind of love, you have to enter deep country.

to find this kind of love, you have to enter deep country.

The married couple who intend to love each other during their whole life have no notion of a honeymoon; for them it has no existence, or rather its existence is perennial; they are like the immortals who do not understand death.

I see no room in this city for the gentle ways of love, for precious walks in shady alleys, the full moon sparkling on the water, while the suppliant pleads in vain. Rich, young, and beautiful, I have only to love, and love would become my sole occupation, my life; yet in the three months during which I have come and gone, eager and curious, nothing has appealed to me in the bright, covetous, keen eyes around me. No voice has thrilled me, no glance has made the world seem brighter.

A lover speaks of nothing to a woman but that which exalts her; while a husband, although he may be a loving one, can never refrain from giving advice which always has the appearance of reprimand.

Who is she? Did you know her young? What of her birth? Had she father and mother, or was she born of the conjunction of ice and sun? She burns and yet she freeze; she shows herself and then withdraws; she attracts me and repulses me; she brings me life, she gives me death; I love her and yet I hate her! I cannot live thus; let me be wholly in heaven or in hell!

Is there, then, a law for the inner fruits of the heart, as there is for the visible fruits of nature? Can joy be made lasting? In what proportion should love mingle tears with pleasures? The cold policy of the funereal, monotonous, persistent routine of the convent seemed to me at these moments the only real life; while the wealth, the splendor, the tears, the delights, the triumph, the joy, the satisfaction, of a love equal, shared, and sanctioned, appeared a mere idle vision.

No man would have torn himself from the comfort of a morning nap to listen to a minstrel in a jacket; none but a maid awakes to songs of love.