Love
"Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of withering, of tarnishing."
~ Anais Nin
Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs. Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes. Being vexed, a sea nourished with lovers' tears. What is it else? A madness most discreet, a choking gall and a preserving sweet.
~ William Shakespeare
I have found the paradox that if I love until it hurts, then there is no hurt, but only more love.
~ Mother Teresa
Love seeketh not itself to please, nor for itself hath any care, but for another gives its ease, and builds a Heaven in Hell's despair.
~ William Blake
Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.
~ Kahlil Gibran
~ Anais Nin
Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs. Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes. Being vexed, a sea nourished with lovers' tears. What is it else? A madness most discreet, a choking gall and a preserving sweet.
~ William Shakespeare
I have found the paradox that if I love until it hurts, then there is no hurt, but only more love.
~ Mother Teresa
Love seeketh not itself to please, nor for itself hath any care, but for another gives its ease, and builds a Heaven in Hell's despair.
~ William Blake
Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.
~ Kahlil Gibran