Loved Quotes - Page 2

My dear, please be careful.You no longer live only for yourself.You live for me as well.

I wonderif you ever read my poemsand wish they were writtenfor you.

Some people hate people who are overconfident, only because their overconfidence reminds them of their underconfidence.

It is not what they say, but the reaction that tells you everything you need to know.

Knowing you, I understood myself.

If we limit love to being nothing more than a feeling, we have no real feeling for what love is.

Love is our religion. Love is our light. It is the only thing that gives us any hope.

Lovers dream of one more embrace.One more kiss.One act of love, no matter how small.For in loving, lover and belovedemptied themselves.Now, they look for their oasislike men engulfed in flames.Even filled to the brim, they will never satiate. For they continue to leak, thesecracked vessels.How else did love seep through?

Love, the exotic bird, came and went.Heart forgot love.Joy, the majestic willow, wept and died.Mind forgot joy.Hope, the basement lamp, fell and broke.Soul forgot hope.Self, the anxious caterpillar, took flight and dropped.Self forgot self.You, my all, became all my reasons.Reasons left.You left.I never forgot.

The thing about love is that you will never run out of it. It's an ever-flowing river. So go ahead and LOVE. What are you saving all this love for — death?

You couldn't just pick and choose at will when someone depended on you, or loved you. It wasn't like a light switch, easy to turn on or off. If you were in, you were in. Out, you were out.

The last time everyone loved or at least liked everyone was when the world had a population of about 4.

We are loved way more by some of the people who have not contacted us in the last twelve or so months than we are loved by some of those who contact us every twelve or so days … or hours.

He sat up. He smiled. Something heavy and winged took off from his chest.Eleanor hadn’t written him a letter, it was a postcard.Just three words long.

As I read you I fell in love with the holes between your words and I loved you most on the days you could not love yourself.

Tell me something wonderful," he said to Dane. "Tell me that we are going to die dreamfully and loved in our sleep.""You're always writing one of your plays on the phone," said Dane."I said, something wonderful. Say something about springtime.""It is sloppy and wet. It is a beast from the sea.""Ah," said Harry.

Believe me when I say: 'Out of all those around, she’s the best locksmith in town.' Her stethoscope ears know when the dials of your heart click into place.She’s been cutting keys for years.You don’t stand a chance with that flimsy case.Alas, no matter how you lock your heart— bolt, fixture, and key— she’s got nimble fingersthat pick locks for free.Padlocks and deadboltsare all in vain.Why do you even botherwith that chain?She’s way too smart. Along with ours, she’ll have your heart. And you will see that the best locksmith in town is she.

If you can love one person, you can love everyone.

Missing you,I missed a part of meI shared with you that’s now gone.Missing you, when really, it was the way you made me feeland the things you made us do.Missing you I shouldn’t be.But I can’t help missing who I was with you.Missing you,I missed and missed so much of the world and wasn’t even missed in return.

YOUR GREATER ANIMALThey say that if you areEver confronted byA lion or bear,To never act scared.Instead act likeYou are the greater animalAnd that they'reThe hareThat you are aboutTo tear.This has beenProvenAnd compared.This is how presidentsAre lovedAnd feared.Each one of us has an animalWithin usThat is armed withMental,Physical orSpiritual giftsThat could shoot spearsThrough the air.So next timeYou are confronted inA fight that seems unfair,Just remember the lion and the bear.MAGNIFYYour greater animalAnd all that feel your magnificenceWill quickly step awayAnd disappear.

...so i will greet youin a wayall loved thingsare meant to be greetedwith a tear in my heartand a poem in my eye.

It was strange how you didn’t realise how much you loved a place until you had lost it completely.

For me,you are fresh waterthat falls from treeswhen it has stopped raining. For me, you are cinnamon that lingers on the tongue and givesbitter wordssweetening.For me, you are the scent of violins and visionof valleys smiling.And still,for me, your loveliness never ends.It traverses the worldand finds its way back to me.Only me.

Your most precious memories will focus on those you loved, those who loved you, and what you did together in the service of the Lord.

As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you.

Now is not the time for bigots and racists. No time for sexists and homophobes. Now, more than ever, is the time for ARTISTS. It’s time for us to rise above and to create. To show humanity. To spread hope. We must prevent society from destroying itself, from losing its way. Now is the time for love.

Knowing you,I became mindless.Having wasted previous wishes,I'm riddled with regretsFeeling you,I became hopeless.Adrift in chasms,I surrender to a caress.Loving you,I became love.My universe became love.Planets rotate on love's axes andapples fall to be near their beloveds.No longer a rationalist, I assert my existence with love. I love, therefore I exist,therefore I love.

The only thing that comes close to defining me correctly is my love.

Love is a snowflake for no two are ever the same.

I write our names on the page.What of it, if the paper will be burned?I write our names in the sand.What of it, if the shore will be washed by waves?I write our names on trees that will be cutand benches that will be painted,but what of it?I will keep on writing our namesbecause in this world of ephemera, You and I are the only constant.

Do the lovers know that when they whisper these poems they are commemorating our love?Do they ever think of you and meor only of themselves?Do they know that I once found a strand of your hairand wore it around my necklike a necklace?That I kiss your handsmore than I kiss your lips?Do they realise that our love and their love are drops in the universe’s ocean of loveand that without any of these drops, the ocean would be less?

Home is where you feel loved, and homeland is where you love.

Be still and know you are loved –Feel the arms of the universeRocking you to its steady hum.

We live only for the hope of love.

Come to me.Why must you ruin this moment?You are burdened with thought.Burdened with the pastand expectations of the future.You are burdened with your self.Cast these aside by laughing at yourself.And love,for what more is there than to love me?Take me nowand let it be heaven for us.

You will know you are in love when it doesn't matter if you sit in heaven or hell with that special someone just as long as they can make you laugh, while you put out the fires.

In the cage, you feel loved, not trapped. Just like me.

To live with you is to live.To live without you is to die.

Here's another poem,like all others before and after,dedicated to you.There isn't anything left to be saidbut I will spend my lifetrying to put you into words.You who is every goodness,every optimismand hope.Your love is a better fate for methan anything I could wish for.If you are a part of me, then you’re the best part.And if you're separate from me, then you are my destination.But I’ve become a weary traveller,so please,let us never be apart.

For love to eliminate pain is to waste it, for it is love alone that possesses sufficient force to bend pain against everything that would break us.

Don't neglect yourself as your soul longs to be accepted and loved by you.

Love is the most integral function of our lives. That is why LOVE is only one letter away from LIVE.

There’s a fine line between trying to be everything your mate wants you to be and wanting to be loved for who you are.

Violinists wear the imprint on their necks with prideFor they are the players of harmony.Pilgrims, too, wear the imprint on their foreheads with prideFor they are the conductors of unity.And Lovers? Why, they are made humble by the imprint on their heartsFor they are merely the instruments of rhapsody.

I saw the sunset-colored sands, The Nile like flowing fire between, Where Rameses stares forth serene, And Ammon's heavy temple stands.I saw the rocks where long ago, Above the sea that cries and breaks, Swift Perseus with Medusa's snakes Set free the maiden white like snow.And many skies have covered me, And many winds have blown me forth, And I have loved the green, bright north, And I have loved the cold, sweet sea.But what to me are north and south, And what the lure of many lands, Since you have leaned to catch my hands And lay a kiss upon my mouth.

We start a relationship with someone not only because of how great they are but how great they make us feel. And because they have granted us this extraordinary gift—a chance to experience love, joy, compassion, and security —it is our exclusive privilege to make them feel wonderful about themselves, especially during days when they, themselves, don't feel so wonderful.

I've written you sixty-seven love poems.Here’s another one for you.But really, for me.These poems are the candles that I light with the fire you have ignited in me.I place this candle here and another thereso even if the stars have argued with the moonand are sulking away in a corner, you can still find your way to me.Sixty-eight poems now. What does the future hold for us?Joy? Disappointment? Gentle caresses? And subtle neglect?I hope the good is more than the bad. Much more. For what is the point of loveif by lighting these candlesour own flame loses its brightness?I know the good is more than the bad. Much more.I cannot wait to write you sixty-nine.

There is much love in loving than being loved.

When I was born I was loved and feared, people played with me but I never played with them. I loved them.

Can we share my eyes so you can see what I see?Can we share my ears so you can hear what I hear?Can you perch on my shouldersso you can go where I go?Always in my heart, I don’t experience anything separate from you.This shared wonderment becomes doubled.This shared love becomes infinite.

I don’t know why we fight.It takes much too effort to stay mad at you.To dodge your skin in the hallwayand leave the kitchen without bringing you a treat.It takes much too effort to stare at the sinkso my eyes don’t smile at you in the mirror.It takes much too effort to look away as we undressand lie apart in the now bigger bed.It takes much too effort to stiffen my bodybecause sleepy limbs forget fightsand pride is always lost in dreams.It takes much too effort to awaken every hour to make sure we are islands with a gulf of white sheets separating us.I dread the light peeking through the parted curtainsand empathise with your groans —I didn’t get any sleep either.I really don’t know why we fight.It takes much too effort to stay mad at one anotherwhen it’s so easy for us to love.

Love can bless you with a sense of purpose and direction when all else fails. Because to have faith in love is to be optimistic about life. Love is hopefulness.

All of these white kids and teachers, who were so suspicious of me when I first arrived, had learned to care about me. Maybe some of them even loved me. And I'd been so suspicious of them. And now I care about a lot of them. And loved a few of them.

Once I have impounded love and towed it into the confine of words, I have lost it altogether.

Find joy in the faces of children who view life as so magical. Give thanks every day for your life and for your existence. Your life matters, you matter. So many people think and care about you and you’re never really alone! Remember your loved ones are the real gift. I care about you; you have a friend in me. Look forward to knowing that next year is going to be even better than the last…

Have you got stuck in a period of time where you loved or you were loved once? Come back to the present time, because present time is the only time you can do something real about your fate!

They took my booksbecause my message was love.They took my penbecause my words were love.Then they took my voicebecause my song was love.Soon they’ll take myselfso nothing remains.But they don’t know that when I'm gonemy love will stay.

If I have not been both soothed by love and on the opposite extreme left devastated by it, I will never understand its power nor respect its majesty.

I have no use for these other loves.Seal them shut in jarsand place them in the pantry. A reserve of love.Thank them for their love.They are so kind.Perhaps store them in the fridgeFor others to take.They say love is a panacea. I know it is not.Flakes of snow,no two are alike.When I am down on my knees, hopeless and angry,for the world no longer makes sense,I won't look in the pantry or fridge.It is your hand pressing on my shoulderthat makes me whole,makes me forget.What trouble? What world?

How is it that there was never youuntil there wasand then all was you?