A Quote by Francois de La Rochefoucauld

In their early passions women are in love with the lover, later they are in love with love. — © Francois de La Rochefoucauld
In their early passions women are in love with the lover, later they are in love with love.
No love is Love that subjugates the Lover. No love is Love that feeds on flesh and blood. No love is Love that draws a woman to a man only to breed more women and men and thus perpetuate their bondage to the flesh.
I love love. I love having a lover and being one. The insularity of passion. I love it. I love the way it blurs the distinction between everyone who isn't one's lover.
Love is never any better than the lover. Wicked people love wickedly, violent people love violently, weak people love weakly, stupid people love stupidly, but the love a free man is never safe. There is no gift for the beloved. the lover alone possesses his gift of love. The loved one is shorn, neutralized, frozen in the glance of the lover’s inward eyes.
I love the '40s. I love the '50s. I love the style, I love the clothes. I love how the women looked. I love the dances. I love the music. I love the amber of the light. I'm just in love with the cars. I'm in love with all of it.
I like fashion, but I love, love, love music and film; they are my two passions. I would love to pursue my acting and my love of music more than anything.
Love. How do we define this word? We love our family. We love food. We love the weather. We love our shoes. Love that music. Love someone's work. Love a movie. Love a celebrity. Love that time in life. Love love love!
There is no love. There's only love of men and women, love Of children, love of friends, of men, of God: Divine love, human love, parental love, Roughly discriminated for the rough.
I am in Love with Love and Love is in love with me. My body is in Love with the soul and the soul is in Love with my body. I opened my arms to Love and Love embraced me like a lover.
Everything is just make believe. They're just different versions of make believe. I love the period of this movie [The Finest Hours]. I love the '40s. I love the '50s. I love the style of the clothes. I love how the women looked. I love the dances. I love the music. I love the amber of the lights and the cars. I'm in love with all of it.
Yeah, we appreciate our women followng...and I love women. I mean, I just really love women. I love men, too, but you know it's like sometimes you look up from what you're doing and you go, 'I love women.' There's just something about them and so, just celebrate it.
I have a very big conflict with the individualization of love. I feel like it's egotistical to just love one person when you can love so many of them. I feel so much love that I declare myself a lover of all.
Both light and shadow are the dance of Love. Love has no cause, it is the astrolabe of God's secrets. Lover and loving are inseparable and timeless. Although I may try to describe love, when I experience it, I am speechless. Although I may try to write about love, I am rendered helpless. My pen breaks, and the paper slips away at the ineffable place where lover loving and loved are one. Every moment is made glorious by the light of Love.
Love, I would later conclude, was all things to all people. Love was the breaking and healing of hearts. Love was misunderstood, love was faith, love was the promise of now that became hope for the future. Love was a rhythm, a resonance, a reverberation. Love was awkward and foolish, it was aggressive and simple and possessed of so many indefinable qualities it could never be conveyed in language. Love was being. The same gravity that relentlessly pulled at me was defied as I rose into something that became everything.
In men, we various ruling passions find; In women, two almost divide the kind Those, only fixed, they first or last obey, The love of pleasure, and the love of sway.
Know that what appears to be Love for an 'other' is really Love of Self because 'other' doesn't exist. So this innermost Love can be given to no 'other'. Love of friends is for the sake of Self, not for body to body. True love has no Lover or Beloved because all Love is Love of Self.
The passions of love ignite, the emotions of love kindle, but the actions of love set the heart ablaze.
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