Quotes
Quotes about Love
Who hath not proved how feebly words essay
To fix one spark of beauty's heavenly ray?
Who doth not feel, until his failing sight
Faints into dimness with its own delight,
His changing cheek, his sinking heart, confess
The might, the majesty of loveliness?
The light of love, the purity of grace,
The mind, the music breathing from her face,
The heart whose softness harmonized the whole,--
And oh, that eye was in itself a soul!
It is the hour when from the boughs
The nightingale's high note is heard;
It is the hour when lovers' vows
Seem sweet in every whisper'd word.
Folly loves the martyrdom of fame.
And to his eye
There was but one beloved face on earth,
And that was shining on him.
Here's a sigh to those who love me,
And a smile to those who hate;
And whatever sky's above me,
Here's a heart for every fate.
I loved my country, and I hated him.
Divine in hookas, glorious in a pipe
When tipp'd with amber, mellow, rich, and ripe;
Like other charmers, wooing the caress
More dazzlingly when daring in full dress;
Yet thy true lovers more admire by far
Thy naked beauties--give me a cigar!
My days are in the yellow leaf;
The flowers and fruits of love are gone;
The worm, the canker, and the grief
Are mine alone!
Man's love is of man's life a thing apart;
'T is woman's whole existence.
A long, long kiss,--a kiss of youth and love.
Alas, the love of women! it is known
To be a lovely and a fearful thing.
In her first passion woman loves her lover:
In all the others, all she loves is love.
The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece!
Where burning Sappho loved and sung.
. . . . .
Eternal summer gilds them yet,
But all except their sun is set.
"Whom the gods love die young," was said of yore.
A lovely being, scarcely formed or moulded,
A rose with all its sweetest leaves yet folded.
Friendship is Love without his wings.
Green be the turf above thee,
Friend of my better days!
None knew thee but to love thee,
Nor named thee but to praise.
They love their land because it is their own,
And scorn to give aught other reason why;
Would shake hands with a king upon his throne,
And think it kindness to his Majesty.
Too fair to worship, too divine to love.
Yes, social friend, I love thee well,
In learned doctors' spite;
Thy clouds all other clouds dispel,
And lap me in delight.
All love is sweet,
Given or returned. Common as light is love,
And its familiar voice wearies not ever.
. . . . . .
They who inspire it most are fortunate,
As I am now; but those who feel it most
Are happier still.
A lovely lady, garmented in light
From her own beauty.
I love tranquil solitude
And such society
As is quiet, wise, and good.
Heaven's ebon vault
Studded with stars unutterably bright,
Through which the moon's unclouded grandeur rolls,
Seems like a canopy which love has spread
To curtain her sleeping world.
