The best Love Quotes

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I would capture your heart and your feelings to play with them and to then abandon them, like you did to me.

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How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore?
With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls,
For stony limits cannot hold loe out,
And what love can do, that dares not love attempt.

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Love's death is life the death of a loved one. It leaves the same torment, the same emptiness, the same refusal to dive up to that emptiness. If you've been waiting for it, caused it, wanted it to defend yourself or for common sense of for the need of freedom when it comes along you feel invalid. Mutilated.

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In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.

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These violent delights have violent ends
And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,
Which as they kiss consume: the sweetest honey
Is loathsome in his own deliciousness
And in the taste confounds the appetite:
Therefore love moderately; long love doth so;

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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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Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none.

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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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And if I thought I couldn't fall in love with you twice, I was stupid. Not twice, but ten, a hundred, a thousand! We only had to find our balance.
You're the only one I ever loved and the only one I could ever love.

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It's a disinterested love: Tereza wants nothing from Karenin. She doesn't even want love. She never put to herself those questions that torture human couples: does he love me? Has he ever loved anyone else more than me? Does he love me more than I love him? Maybe all these questions aimed at love, that measure it, that investigate it, that examine it, that interrogate it, can even destroy it at birth. Maybe we're not capable of loving because we want to be loved, meaning that we want something (love) from the other intead of getting closer to him unpretensiously and wanting only their presence.