Quotes About Love

Love is like whoa! Actually, it's closer to woe.

I'm very close to my dad. He's about six inches away right now and snoring in my ears.

You tell me you love me, but I'm not sure you know what love is, or how fast it flies, or how much it resembles a UFO, or what kind of weapon you'd use to shoot it down.

You and I have a love so secret that not even you know about it. But first, let me introduce myself.

The glories of a new baby are beyond description.

Everything on earth has happened before, nothing is new, but woe to the lovers who fail to discover a fresh blossom in every future kiss.

Not till old age did I learn to love silence. Sometimes it is more exciting than music. In the silence emerge tremulous signals and at the crossroads of memory you hear names which time had tried to stifle.

There was a war all over the world and all over the world was grief. And yet I whispered into jewelled ears verses of love. It makes me feel ashamed. But no, not really.

All my life I have been faithful to love.

Love is something huge You'll find out that Even if there were revolution in the whole wide world Still somewhere on green grass Lovers would have time to hold hands And lean their heads towards one another.

Love is an eternal struggle with the angel. From dawn to night. Without mercy. The opponent is often stronger. But woe to him who doesn't realize that his angel has no wings and will not bless.

První sny dívek, které jsou zamilovány nejd?ív jen do lásky, bývají jako tolik v?cí na sv?t? tajemn?jší než tajemství zpov?dní! Nikdo se o nich nedozví, protože nejsou ješt? vymyšlena slova tak cudná a tak vášnivá zárov??.

Na n?žnou k?ivku ?ader tvých je t?žko hled?t bez závrati. Hrá? vroucn? housle k tvá?i zdvih a pobožn? chce na n? hráti.

A se znamením na t?le, jaké kdys nosívali v?zni, za láskou p?jde, nebo? bez ní je život troškou popele.

A její šat už nešustí, už dotan?ila. A ret pálí slzami, které líbávali d?íve jí muži nad ústy.

Neither greed for power nor thirst for glory are as dizzy as the passions of love

His heart wants to be tied to another heart, even by deep stitches.

My sinful Magdalene, don't cry: Romantic love has spent its fires.

I used to feel I could hide inside my practice, that I could simply sit and contemplate the raging anger of a place like this, seeking inner peace through prayers of compassion. But now I believe love and compassion are things to extend to others. It's a dangerous adventure to share them in a place like S.Q. Yet I see now that we become better people if we can touch a hardened soul, bring joy into someone's life, or just be an example for others, instead of hiding behind our silence.

To feel that you aren't important to your mother leaves a hole. Most often it is felt as a hole in the heart. It's the hole where Mother was supposed to be.

In the pairs of mothers and their adult children that I have seen, mothers who cared for their children out of obligation are then cared for in their elderly years by their adult children out of a similar obligation.

the mother "holds the child's bits together." She is his glue, his container. When the mother is really there, lovingly holding the child, it gives the child something to hold on to. Ultimately, that is the mother's heart.

When children are not shamed for undeveloped skills but rather are loved quite fully just for being who they are, then competence becomes less important.

It is not easy to give of yourself if you still have many unmet needs. Yet, mothering requires constant giving.