Quotes on True Lovers

Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies.

We waste time looking for the perfect lover, instead of creating the perfect love.

True rebels after all, are as rare as true lovers,and in both cases, to mistake a fever for passion can destroy one's life

For you see, each day I love you more. Today more than yesterday and less than tomorrow.

You can study God through everything and everyone in the universe, because God is not confined in a mosque, synagogue or church. But if you are still in need of knowing where exactly His abode is, there is only one place to look for Him: in the heart of a true lover.

Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone - we find it with another.

Your earthly lover can be charming and coquettish but never very faithful. The true lover is the one who on your final day opens a thousand doors.

It is the quality of patriotism to be jealous and watchful, to observe all secret machinations, and to see publick dangers at a distance. The true lover of his country is ready to communicate his fears, and to sound the alarm, whenever he perceives the approach of mischief. But he sounds no alarm, when there is no enemy; he never terrifies his countrymen till he is terrified himself. The patriotism, therefore, may be justly doubted of him, who professes to be disturbed by incredibilities.

The true lover realizes that freedom is needed for loyalty to blossom.

If I had a flower for every time I thought of you...I could walk through my garden forever.

Come away, come away, Death, And in sad cypress let me be laid; Fly away, fly away, breath, I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white stuck all with yew, O prepare it! My part of death no one so true did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweet, On my black coffin let there be strewn: Not a friend, not a friend greet My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown. A thousand thousand sighs to save, lay me O where Sad true lover never find my grave, to weep there!

The art of love is largely the art of persistence.

The true lover of knowledge naturally strives for truth, and is not content with common opinion, but soars with undimmed and unwearied passion till he grasps the essential nature of things.

My silks and fine array, My smiles and languished air, By love are driv'n away And mournful lean Despair Brings me yew to deck my grave: Such end true lovers have.

The true lover of learning then must his earliest youth, as far as in him lies, desire all truth.... He whose desires are drawn toward knowledge in every form will be absorbed in the pleasures of the soul, and will hardly feel bodily pleasures I mean, if he be a true philosopher and not a sham one ... Then how can he who has the magnificence of mind and is the spectator of all times and all existence, think much of human life He cannot. Or can such a one account death fearful No indeed.

We that are true lovers run into strange capers; but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly.

We that are true lovers run into strange capers.