Quotes About Love

One word is too often profaned For me to profane it, One feeling too falsely disdain'd For thee to disdain it. One hope too like dispair For prudence to smother, I can give not what men call love: But wilt thou accept not The worship the heart lifts above And heaven rejects not: The desire of the moth for the star, The devotion of something afar From the sphere of our sorrow?

Death is here and death is there, Death is busy everywhere, All around, within, beneath, Above is death - and we are death. Death has set his mark and seal On all we are and all we feel, On all we know and all we fear, First our pleasures die - and then Our hopes, and then our fears - and when These are dead, the debt is due, Dust claims dust - and we die too. All things that we love and cherish, Like ourselves must fade and perish; Such is our rude mortal lot - Love itself would, did they not.

You ought not to love the individuals of your domestic circle less, but to love those who exist beyond it more. Once make the feelings of confidence and of affection universal, and the distinctions of property and power will vanish; nor are they to be abolished without substituting something equivalent in mischief to them, until all mankind shall acknowledge an entire community of rights.

True Love in this differs from gold and clay, That to divide is not to take away. Epipsychidion

The wise want love; and those who love want wisdom

If we reason we would be understood; if we imagine we would that the airy children of our brain were born anew within another's; if we feel we would that another's nerves should vibrate to our own, that the beams of their eyes should kindle at once and mix and melt into our own; that lips of motionless ice should not reply to lips quivering and burning with the heart's best blood. This is love.

I can give not what men call love; But wilt thou accept not The worship the heart lifts above And the heavens reject not: The desire of the moth for the star, Of the night for the morrow, The devotion to something afar From the sphere of our sorrow?

What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain? What fields, or waves, or mountains? What shapes of sky or plain? What love of thine own kind? What ignorance of pain?

Love, hope, and self-esteem, like clouds depart And come, for some uncertain moments lent. Man were immortal and omnipotent, Didst thou, unknown and awful as thou art, Keep with thy glorious train firm state within his heart.

And the sunlight claps the earth, And the moonbeam kiss the sea, What is all these sweet work worth, If thou kiss not me.

All he had loved, and moulded into thought, From shape, and hue, and odour, and sweet sound, Lamented Adonais. Morning sought Her eastern watch-tower, and her hair unbound, Wet with the tears which should adorn the ground, Dimmed the aerial eyes that kindle day; Afar the melancholy thunder moaned, Pale Ocean in unquiet slumber lay, And the wild winds flew round, sobbing in their dismay.

I love tranquil solitude, And such society As is quiet, wise, and good. Song

Soul meets soul on lovers' lips.

To hearts which near each other move From evening close to morning light, The night is good; because, my love, They never say good-night.

Like the ghost of a dear friend dead Is Time long past. A tone which is now forever fled, A hope which is now forever past, A love so sweet it could not last, Was Time long past. There were sweet dreams in the night Of Time long past: And, was it sadness or delight, Each day a shadow onward cast Which made us wish it yet might last - That Time long past

Thou demandest what is love? It is that powerful attraction towards all that we conceive, or fear, or hope beyond ourselves, when we find within our own thoughts the chasm of an insufficient void, and seek to awaken in all things that are, a community with what we experience within ourselves.

Wealth and dominion fade into the mass Of the great sea of human right and wrong, When once from our possession they must pass; But love, though misdirected, is among The things which are immortal, and surpass All that frail stuff which will be - or which was.

I think one is always in love with something or other; the error—and I confess it is not easy for spirits cased in flesh and blood to avoid it—consists in seeking in a mortal image the likeness of what is, perhaps, eternal.

Poetry thus makes immortal all that is best and most beautiful in the world

Kiss me, so long but as a kiss may last! ? Percy Bysshe Shelley, from "Adonais: An Elegy on the Death of John Keats," Adonaïs: An Elegy on the Death of John Keats, Author of Endymion, Hyperion, etc . (1821)

Look on yonder earth: The golden harvests spring; the unfailing sun Sheds light and life; the fruits, the flowers, the trees, Arise in due succession; all things speak Peace, harmony and love. The universe, In Nature's silent eloquence, declares That all fulfil the works of love and joy, - All but the outcast, Man.

Asia: Who is the master of the slave? Demogorgon: If the abysm could vomit forth its secrets...But a voice is wanting, the deep truth is imageless; For what would it avail to bid thee gaze on the revolving world? What to bid speak Fate, Time, Occasion, Chance, and Change? To these all things are subject but eternal Love.

And death shall be the last embrace of her who takes the life she gave, even as a mother folding her child, says, 'Leave me not again.

For I loved all things with intense devotion;