Love is its own rescue; for we, at our supremest, are but its trembling emblems.
We outgrow love like other things and put it in a drawer, till it an antique fashion shows like costumes grandsires wore.
Till it has loved, no man or woman can become itself.
Love is like life-merely longer.
When a Lover is a Beggar Abject is his Knee. When a Lover is an Owner Different is he...
Unable are the Loved to die For Love is Immortality, Nay, it is Deity - Unable they that love - to die For Love reforms Vitality Into Divinity.
Love is everything. And that's all we know about it.
Had we less to say to those we love, perhaps we should say it oftener.
Write me of hope and love, and hearts that endured.
Love can do all but raise the Dead I doubt if even that From such a giant were withheld Were flesh equivalent But love is tired and must sleep, And hungry and must graze And so abets the shining Fleet Till it is out of gaze.
I think of love, and you, and my heart grows full and warm, and my breath stands still... I can feel a sunshine stealing into my soul and making it all summer, and every thorn, a rose.
For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ecstasy.
Behold this little Bane- The Boon of all alive- As common as it is unknown The name of it is Love.
Love is done when Loves begun, Sages say, But have Sages known?
Till I loved I never lived.
I argue thee that love is life. And life hath immortality.
That love is all there is, Is all we know of love.
Why should we censure Othello when the Criterion Lover says, "Thou shalt have no other Gods before Me"?
Dogs are better than human beings because they know but do not tell.
For love is immortality.
Morning without you is a dwindled dawn.
The Soul should always stand ajar.
I confess that I love him, I rejoice that I love him, I thank the maker of Heaven and Earth that gave him to me. The exultation floods me.
My friends are my estate.
To love is so startling it leaves little time for anything else.
Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.
I hope you love birds too. It is economical. It saves going to heaven.
Love is anterior to life, posterior to death, initial of creation, and the exponent of breath.
To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, -
If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain.
Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all.
The lovely flowers embarrass me. They make me regret I am not a bee...