The best Love Quotes

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Who, being loved, is poor?

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The one you love and the one who loves you are never, ever the same person.

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For some reson I ignore the fact that I like you a lot. A lot, nothing unreasonable, I should say enough to make sure that at night, alone, I awake and not being able to fall asleep again, I start dreaming of you.

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The heart's affections are like cedar branches; if the tree should lose a strong branch, it suffers, but doesn't die. It spills all the vitality in the branch next to it, so that it may grow and fill the empty space.

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Love is life and life has something immoral.

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In the evening I propose myself to enjoy the rising of the sun and the next morning I don't move from my bed; during the day I intend to view the spectacle of the moonlight and then I remain in my room. I don't exactly know why I get up, why I go to bed. I am missing the yeast that keeps my life in ferment; the fascination that kept me awake during the deepest of nights has vanished, the enchantment of mornings that kept me awake has fled.

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Either you have hopes of obtaining Charlotte, or you have none. Well, in the first case, pursue your course, and press on to the fulfilment of your wishes. In the second, be a man, and shake off a miserable passion, which will enervate and destroy you.

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Renounce your power to attract me and I'll renounce my will to follow you.

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Growing-up, instead, I'm always more convinced, and I don't know on what basis, that in life there is only one true love. That there is only one prince-charming for women and a princess for men. The kindered-spirit. And that all the others are just extras. I was happy thinking that I would've been the prince-charming to one woman in the world. Maybe a wanker for the rest of the female universe, maybe insignificant, ugly, not charming, that maybe with me Cinderella would've gone home at ten, quater-past max, Snow white after my kiss would've pretended to die again, but for someone... make way, I was prince-charming. The handsomest, the most charming, the most interesting. Isn't it wonderful knowing that for someone, a person of the world you are the "most"? Isn't it incredible? Doesn't it give you a stronger sense of responsability? I always liked this thing.

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In the mad or sweet hugs your body that was not tried but your soul, your thoughts, your feelings, your dreams, your poems. And maybe it's true that love almost never relates to a body, often we choose or accept a person for inexplicable charm with which it hits us, or for what it represents to our eyes, our beliefs, to our morals; however, the vehicle of a loving relationship remains the body, and if that doesn't seduce you, something else has to seduce you. The character, for example, the way of living or the behavior. And in time I discovered that I didn't like a lot your character [...] So why had I the impulse to run after you, to hug you, feel your mustache against my cheek, why did I feel the need to scrape off the throat and send back the tears?