Love…
…is a mystery never completely solved. It is a question for which no complete answers exist. Every heart loves differently making as many different kinds of love as there are people.
From “Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman” by Haruki Murakami
I sometimes think
that people’s hearts
are like deep wells.
Nobody knows what’s
at the bottom.
All you can do
is imagine by
what comes floating
to the surface
every once
in a while.
Love…
…is never the real reason for sorrow and unhappiness. Love itself is always pure, without corruption and eternally filled with gladness. It is only human thought, feeling and action that can make love into anything else.
American author and motivation speaker Leo Buscaglia
Love is always
bestowed
as a gift;
freely,
willingly,
and without
expectation…
We don’t love
to be loved;
we love to love.
Love…
…is not easy, most often lasting for too short of a time. That makes it no less meaningful. There is no failure. Every bit of love felt and received matters. Hold dear every morsel for the precious gift it is.
American poet and blogger Coco J. Ginger
I say this to you now:
I love you, with no beginning,
no end. I love you as you have
become an extra necessary
organ in my body.
I love you as only a girl
could love a boy.
Without fear.
Without expectations.
Wanting nothing in return,
except that you allow me
to keep you here in my heart,
that I may always know your strength,
your eyes, and your spirit
that gave me freedom and let me fly.
Love…
…comes to those who still hope even though they’ve been disappointed; to those who still believe even though they’ve been betrayed; to those who still love even thought they’ve been hurt before.
By an obscure author known only as J.H. Li
There is nothing
more painful
than seeing
someone
you love
loving
someone else.
But there is
nothing more
rewarding than
seeing two
people you love
loving each other.
Love…
…has value above all. Everything else is either sought earnestly or unconsciously as a substitute for love or as distraction to cover the lack of it. Love is the wizard behind the curtain of all that is worthwhile.
Dutch priest, writer and copyist Thomas a Kempis
Love feels no burden,
regards not labors,
strives toward more
than it attains,
argues not of impossibility,
since it believes that it may
and can do all things.
Therefore it avails for all things,
and fulfils and accomplishes
much where one not a lover
falls and lies helpless.
Love…
…lives in one of a kind hearts, each made unique by memories stored and grief accumulated; by kindness stockpiled and good and bad feelings saved; by tenderness collected and heartbreak gathered. These and more plough and cultivate the heart till it becomes either soft and fertile or withered and hard.
German writer, artist, and politician Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
All the
knowledge
I possess
everyone
else can
acquire,
but my
heart
is all
my
own.
Love…
…requires two kindred sparks to make a single shared flame. Over time each must fuel the other in some semblance of balance or their fire will flounder.
American clergyman and social reformer Henry Ward Beecher
Love cannot
endure
indifference.
It needs to
be wanted.
Like a lamp,
it needs
to be fed
out of the oil
of another’s
heart,
or its flame
burns low.
Love…
…is part known fact and part enigma; both explainable and inexplicable at the same time. You know for certain when it’s present yet can offer no concrete proof what so ever to anyone else of what you feel.
French-speaking Swiss author Germaine de Staël
Love
is the
emblem
of
eternity;
it confounds
all notion
of time;
effaces
all
memory
of a
beginning;
all fear
of an end.
Love…
…is gentle wind through my hair, a sight of a moonlit night, an inhaled scent of roses, the sound of pure joy and a sweet taste of delight: ALL at once. Everything I feel, see, smell, hear and taste are made more so by my love for you.
From “The Host” by American author Stephenie Meyer
It’s not the face,
but the expressions on it.
It’s not the voice,
but what you say.
It’s not how you look
in that body,
but the thing
you do with it.
You are beautiful.
Love…
…sends no advance warning nor does it knock on the door of the heart before entering. It is a surprise guest that moves in and takes up residence without notice. Love is predictable only in its unpredictable arrival.
From a poem by Chilean poet and diplomat Pablo Neruda
I love you without
knowing how,
or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly,
without complexities or pride;
so I love you because
I know no other way than this:
where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand
on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes
close as I fall asleep.
Love Letter Daily 