Quotes Tagged "lover"

Time for us began to be measured by moments when we spoke, and moments when we longed to speak again.

I couldn’t have dreamed you into existence because I didn’t even know I needed you. You must have been sent to me.

Like a child who saves their favourite food on the plate for last, I try to save all thoughts of you for the end of the day so I can dream with the taste of you on my tongue.

The rain set early in tonight, The sullen wind was soon awake, It tore the elm-tops down for spite, And did its best to vex the lake: I listened with heart fit to break. When glided in Porphyria; straight She shut the cold out and the storm, And kneeled and made the cheerless grate Blaze up and all the cottage warm;

For me, you are fresh water that falls from trees when it has stopped raining. For me, you are cinnamon that lingers on the tongue and gives bitter words sweetening. For me, you are the scent of violins and vision of valleys smiling. And still, for me, your loveliness never ends. It traverses the world and finds its way back to me. Only me.

I wonder if you ever read my poems and wish they were written for you.

Here's another poem, like all others before and after, dedicated to you. There isn't anything left to be said but I will spend my life trying to put you into words. You who is every goodness, every optimism and hope. Your love is a better fate for me than anything I could wish for. If you are a part of me, then you’re the best part. And if you're separate from me, then you are my destination. But I’ve become a weary traveller, so please, let us never be apart.

I only wrote prose before I met you. My musings were superfluous and serious as well. But now the words dance with me. I sing with them and we create poetry.

Life sometimes reminds us that it is sometimes heartless by giving something or someone we really need to someone who does not need or even want them or it.

Lover is a mere companion, love is eternal.

Aus abgewickelten Flügeln des brennenden Schwans nachdem blutmeer aus der grünen raupe geboren wurde Diese Haut scherte den Mond vom Unterbauch der Wolke befahl den Wellen, die Horoskope auf den Brüsten der Krabben abzuschaffen . Auf der immergrünen Epiglotis des Lotus randvoll Die pollengeplapperte Honigbiene winkte mit ihrem Doppeltuch suchte nach einem betrunkenen Dorf voller stolz rot schlagender Menschenmenge summende Lieder, die nebeneinander in besorgter Entfernung schlafen

To Her Steady Lover - Poem by Jibanananda Das There is no meaning in living—I don't say this. There is meaning for some, may be for all—may be a perfect meaning. Yet I hear the white sound of wind-driven birds In the water of the distant seas beneath the burning summer sun. The candle burns slowly, very slowly, on my table; The books of intellect are more still—unwavering— lost in meditation; Yet when you go out on to the streets or even while sitting by the window side Will you sense the frenzied dance of violent waters; Right beside that a book of your cheeks; no more like a lantern, Perhaps like a conch-shell lying on the beach as if ocean's father It is also a music by his own merit—like Nature: caustic—lovable—finally like the most favourite entity. So I get the taste of expansive wind in the airing of maddening grievances; Otherwise in the mind's forest the python coils up around the doe: I feel the pitiable hint of a life like that in the Sceptre of protest. Some glacier-cold still flock of Cormorants will realize my words; When the electric-compass of life will cease They will eat up snow-grey sleep like polar seas in endless grasp.

The Spirit is as much a jealous lover as the ego. Both guard their path with an uncompromising passion but for very different reasons.

Think the tree that bears nutrition: though the fruits are picked, the plant maintains fruition. So give all the love you have. Do not hold any in reserve. What is given is not lost; it shall return.

Love is like dried flowers sometimes. Even though you watch the petals shrink and change colour, you cannot help treasuring them

No people find each other more absurd than lovers

Jack hadn’t thought of love as a promise before—a promise that, even when the world was falling down around him, would stay kept. But without Sutton saying a word, he knew that there would be comfort when he couldn’t sleep tonight. And tomorrow and the day after, there would be a home to go to, even if it was no more than a pair of arms around him and a head tucked close to his in the darkness.

Wisdom : a Lover of true Knowledge

One of the main roots of ungodliness is being a lover of pleasure more than a lover of God.

You can run from the truth. You can run and hide from the truth. You can deny and avoid the truth. But you cannot destroy the truth. Nor can you make the lie true. You must know that love will always uncover the truth.