Quotes
Only love can make one happy.
Love, like medicine, is only the art of encouraging nature.
Love has its own instinct, finding the way to the heart, as the feeblest insect finds the way to its flower, with a will which nothing can dismay nor turn aside.
Love, unconquerable,
Waster of rich men, keeper
Of warm lights and all-night vigil
In the soft face of a girl:
Sea-wanderer, forest-visitor!
Even the pure immortals cannot escape you,
And mortal man, in his one day's dusk,
Trembles before your glory.
p. 471
What, however, is my fault? Unless to have played can be called a fault, unless it can be called a fault to have loved.
Love is a thing full of anxious fears.
Aren’t our eyes made to be torn out, and our hearts for the same purpose? At the same time it’s really not that bad; that’s an exaggeration and a lie, everything is exaggeration, the only truth is longing, which cannot be exaggerated. But even the truth of longing is not so much its own truth; it’s really an expression of everything else, which is a lie. This sounds crazy and distorted, but it’s true.
Moreover, perhaps it isn’t love when I say you are what I love the most — you are the knife I turn inside myself, this is love.
Love is lord of all, and is in all the same.
Is it true, or the dream of a lover's desire?
Here are cold springs, Lycoris, here soft meadows, here woodland; here, with thee, time alone would wear me away.
Love conquers all; let us, too, yield to Love!
Look, ploughs feather the ground as the ox-teams draw them home,
And a declining sun enlarges the lengthening shadows:
Yet love still scorches me—love has no lull, no limit.
