Quotes About Love

You love him, I can see it." "More than anything." That alone should be enough, he thought, but of course it never is. Courage has to come in there somewhere, and perseverance and forbearance and patience and all the rest. A job of work, as Uncle Billy would say, but worth it and then some.

Lord,' he prayed, 'make me a blessing to someone today.

It's not the sort of thing romantics wish to hear, but I found that in the end, love must be a kind of discipline. If we love only with our feelings, we're sunk—we may feel love one day and something quite other the next. Soon after he came to live with me—he was eleven years old at the time—I realized I must learn to love with my will, not my feelings.

And so I enjoyed the warm feelings, the stuff of the heart, when it was present between us, as it sometimes was, even in the beginning. And when it wasn't, there was the will to love him, something like . . . a generator kicking in, a backup.

Love shall be our token

at his mother's grave and his father's urn.

to be somewhere safe with somebody good.

God was in love with him, that he made us for himself.

God our Father, Lord and Savior, thank you for your love and favor, bless this food and drink we pray, and Irene who shares with me today. Amen.

Lord, here is your servant, Redeemer, made with love and bound by your grace. Thank you for your mercy." (said by character Lace Kavanaugh over a dying dog).

Lord, make me a blessing to someone today.

Easter is never deserved.

Loving can be hard. Sometimes we don't feel loving, but it isn't all about feeling. Very often it is about will. Practice that if you can.

Love is an act of endless forgiveness.

Love is an actual need, an urgent requirement of the heart," he read aloud from an old essay on marriage that he found in his files. "Every properly constituted human being who entertains an appreciation of loneliness...and looks forward to happiness and content feels the necessity of loving. Without it, life is unfinished...

he was 'nuts about her', as the parlance of the day had it, as if it were generally recognised that love and madness are adjoining rooms with extremely porous walls.

I prefer perfumery, it's the language of love.

The gardenia is an enigma, its petals dusted with the creamy white purity of innocence, but its aroma is wildly seductive. How appropriate; for in the language of flowers, the gift of gardenias conveys the message of secret love. —DB

I never did think that my own conundrum was a matter either of science or of social convention. I thought it was a matter of the spirit, a kind of divine allegory, and that explanations of it were not very important anyway. What was important was the liberty of us all to live as we wished to live, to love however we wanted to love, and to know ourselves, however peculiar, disconcerting or unclassifiable, at one with the gods and angels.

Find what brings you joy and go there.

Aunt Flo's love is not a soft thing, I think, but something hard and unyielding, which can be good or bad.

This was the cream of marriage, this nightly turning out of the day's pocketful of memories, this deft habitual sharing of two pairs of eyes, two pairs of ears. It gave you, in a sense, almost a double life: though never, on the other hand, quite a single one.

Freedom Now heaven be thanked, I am out of love again! I have been long a slave, and now am free; I have been tortured, and am eased of pain; I have been blind, and now my eyes can see; I have been lost, and now the way lies plain; I have been caged, and now I hold the key; I have been mad, and now at last am sane; I am wholly I, that was but a half of me. So, a free man, my dull proud path I plod, Who, tortured, blind, mad, caged, was once a God.

What elevates one and not another to the level of genius is not only talent and ambition and luck, but a gift for turning everything to the purpose. ... Perhaps that is a common element in the story of genius: beyond talent and ambition and luck, in some degree you have to be forcibly booted out of everyday life and everyday goals. In any case, it was like that with Brahms. The fulfillment of love was denied him so that other things might take wing.