Love is anterior to life, posterior to death, initial of creation, and the exponent of breath.
See the mountains kiss high Heaven And the waves clasp one another; No sister-flower would be forgiven If it disdained its brother; And the sunlight clasps the earth, And the moonbeams kiss the sea - What is all this sweet work worth If thou kiss not me?
Love is a fruit in season at all times, and within reach of every hand.
And if God choose I shall but love thee better after death.
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
Summer's lease hath all too short a date.
I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)
Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
There is no remedy for love but to love more.
Love bears it out even to the edge of doom.
Every fair from fair sometime declines
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun
In dreams and in love there are no impossibilities.
But thy eternal summer shall not fade.
Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come: Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove. O, no! It is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests and is never shaken. It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Romantic Art: The Hearts Awakening - Bouguereau At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet.
Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments: love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds.
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks within his bending sickle's compass come.
Love is the beauty of the soul.
'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
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