I freeze and burn, love is bitter and sweet, my sighs are tempests and my tears are floods, I am in ecstasy and agony, I am possessed by memories of her and I am in exile from myself.
He loves but lightly who his love can tell.
I know and love the good, yet ah! the worst pursue.
To be able to say how much love, is love but little.
Love is the crowning grace of humanity, the holiest right of the soul, the golden link which binds us to duty and truth, the redeeming principle that chiefly reconciles the heart to life, and is prophetic of eternal good.
Love is the crowning grace of humanity.
True, we love life, not because we are used to living, but because we are used to loving. There is always some madness in love, but there is also always some reason in madness.
To be able to say how much you love is to love but little
The aged love what is practical while impetuous youth longs only for what is dazzling.