Love
Love is a choice so always choose love. There is no love without forgiveness. And there is no forgiveness without love. Love is why you forgive and forgiveness is how you love. Love and forgiveness is one the same.
A man when he is making up to anybody can be cordial and gallant and full of little attentions and altogether charming. But when a man is really in love he can’t help looking like a sheep.
Love will not always linger longest / With those who hold it in too clenched a fist.
To love deeply in one direction makes us more loving in all others.
Free love is too expensive.
Love is not enough. It must be the foundation, the cornerstone – but not the complete structure. It is much too pliable, too yielding.
Great loves too must be endured.
I’m glad it cannot happen twice, the fever of first love.
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Love is the white light of emotion.
Love, like truth, is the unassailable defense.
Take me or leave me; or, as is the usual order of things, both.
Love much. Earth has enough of bitter in it.
Love lights more fires than hate extinguishes.
It was a great holiness, a religion, as all great loves must be.
I wonder why love is so often equated with joy when it is everything else as well. Devastation, balm, obsession, granting and receiving excessive value, and losing it again. It is recognition, often of what you are not but might be. It sears and it heals. It is beyond pity and above law. It can seem like truth.
Whoever has loved knows all that life contains of sorrow and of joy.
The story of a love is not important – what is important is that one is capable of love. It is perhaps the only glimpse we are permitted of eternity.
What we have once enjoyed we can never lose. All that we love deeply becomes a part of us.
True love isn’t the kind that endures through long years of absence, but the kind that endures through long years of propinquity.
When love comes it comes without effort, like perfect weather.
Love is the extremely difficult realization that something other than oneself is real.
I love you no matter what you do, but do you have to do so much of it?
We love as soon as we learn to distinguish a separate “you” and “me.” Love is our attempt to assuage the terror and isolation of that separateness.
Love is the same as like except you feel sexier.
Many of us are done with adolescence before we are done with adolescent love.
Because it corresponds to a vital need, love is overvalued in our culture. It becomes a phantom – like success – carrying with it the illusion that it is a solution for all problems.
Love has nothing to do with what you are expecting to get – only with what you are expecting to give – which is everything.
Perhaps it does not matter so very much what it is one loves in this world. But love something one must.
There is always something left to love. And if you ain’t learned that, you ain’t learned nothing.
The next greatest pleasure to love is to talk of love.
All discarded lovers should be given a second chance, but with somebody else.
Love says, mine. Love says, I could eat you up. Love says, stay as you are, be my own private thing, don’t you dare have ideas I don’t share. Love has just got to gobble the other, bones and all, crunch. I sure don’t want to do that. I don’t want it done to me!
We don’t believe in rheumatism or true love until we have been attacked by them.
A woman has got to love a bad man once or twice in her life, to be thankful for a good one.
How do you know that love is gone? If you said you would be there at seven, you get there by nine and he or she has not called the police yet – it’s gone.
Love is like the measles. The older you get it, the worse the attack.
No one has ever loved anyone the way everyone wants to be loved.
Love never dies quite suddenly. He complains a great deal before expiring.
Love is a fruit in season at all times.
It is impossible to repent of love. The sin of love does not exist.
It requires infinitely a greater genius to make love, than to make war.
Perhaps that is what love is – the momentary or prolonged refusal to think of another person in terms of power.
Love is the wild card of existence.
Love alone matters.
Love is repaid by love alone.
Being always overavid, I demand from those I love a love equal to mine, which, being balanced people, they cannot supply.
My love for you is more / Athletic than a verb.
Love doesn’t just sit there, like a stone, it has to be made, like bread; re-made all the time, made new.
I don’t want to live – I want to love first, and live incidentally.
A great love is an absolute isolation and an absolute absorption.
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