Quotes About Love

Eternity was in our lips and eyes,Bliss in our brows bent.

Come away, come away, death,And in sad cypress let me be laid;Fly away, fly away, breath;I am slain by a fair cruel maid.

Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me,From mine own library with volumes thatI prize above my dukedom.

Love is not love that alters when it alteration finds.

Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing,And like enough thou know'st thy estimate.

What! my dear Lady Disdain, are you yet living?

Beauty, wit,High birth, vigor of bone, desert in service,Love, friendship, charity, are subjects allTo envious and calumniating time.One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.

I lov'd Ophelia: forty thousand brothersCould not, with all their quantity of love,Make up my sum.

A light wife doth make a heavy husband.

She's beautiful and therefore to be woo'd,She is a woman, therefore to be won.

Was ever woman in this humor woo'd?Was ever woman in this humor won?

See what a scourge is laid upon your hate,That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love.

Though last, not least in love.

He is the half part of a blessed man,Left to be finished by such a she;And she a fair divided excellence,Whose fullness of perfection lies in him.

The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she.

Duke: And what's her history?Viola: A blank, my lord. She never told her love,But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,Feed on her damask cheek: she pin'd in thought,And with a green and yellow melancholy,She sat like Patience on a monument,Smiling at grief.

Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia,The gods themselves throw incense.

Down on your knees,And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's love.

Love is too young to know what conscience is.

O! beware, my lord, of jealousy;It is the green-ey'd monster which doth mockThe meat it feeds on; that cuckold lives in blissWho, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger;But, O! what damned minutes tells he o'erWho dotes, yet doubts; suspects, yet soundly loves!

For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth bringsThat then I scorn to change my state with kings.

What is love? 'tis not hereafter;Present mirth hath present laughter.What's to come is still unsure:In delay there lies no plenty;Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty,Youth's a stuff will not endure.

I love a ballad in print, a-life, for then we are sure they are true.

At lovers' perjuries,They say, Jove laughs.