Quotations About / On:
'You don't have to love yourself before you can love anyone else; you have to know yourself before you can love anyone else.'
Sometimes we love someone very truly and don't show the one and sometimes we love someone quite genuinely but show we don't love the one very much.
The man who loves other countries as much as his own stands on a level with the man who loves other women as much as he loves his own wife.
(Theodore Roosevelt (1858-1919), U.S. Republican (later Progressive) politician, president. speech, Sept. 6, 1918, delivered in New York City.
On the anniversary of the first Battle of the Marne.)
Only the flow matters; live and let live, love and let love. There is no point to love.
(D.H. (David Herbert) Lawrence (1885-1930), British author. "Do Women Change?" Assorted Articles, M. Secker (1930).)
One can love a child, perhaps, more deeply than one can love another adult, but it is rash to assume that the child feels any love in return.
(George Orwell (1903-1950), British author. repr. in The Collected Essays, Journalism and Letters of George Orwell, eds. Sonia Orwell and Ian Angus (1968). "Such, Such Were the Joys," (1947).
Orwell added: "Looking back on my own childhood, after the infant years were over, I do not believe that I ever felt love for any mature person, except my mother.... Love, the spontaneous, unqualified emotion of love was something I could only feel for people who were young.")
The real question isn't whether you love your kids or not, but how well you are able to demonstrate your love and caring so that your children really feel loved.
(Stephanie Martson (20th century), U.S. family therapist, author. The Magic of Encouragement, ch. 3 (1990).)
For what is love itself, for the one we love best?an enfolding of immeasurable cares which yet are better than any joys outside our love.
(George Eliot [Mary Ann (or Marian) Evans] (1819-1880), British novelist, editor. Daniel Deronda, bk. 8, ch. 69 (1876).)
Love, that is all I asked, a little love, daily, twice daily, fifty years of twice daily love like a Paris horse-butcher's regular, what normal woman wants affection?
(Samuel Beckett (1906-1989), Irish dramatist, novelist. First edition, 1958. Mrs. Rooney, in "All That Fall," reprinted in Krapp's Last Tape, p. 37, Grove Press (1960).)
I love my work with a frenetic and perverse love, as an ascetic loves the hair shirt which scratches his belly.
(Gustave Flaubert (1821-1880), French novelist. Letter, April 24, 1852, to Louise Colet, trans. by Stratton Buck (1966). Correspondance, II, p. 395, Conard (1926-1933).)
One does not kill oneself for love of a woman, but because loveany lovereveals us in our nakedness, our misery, our vulnerability, our nothingness.
(Cesare Pavese (1908-1950), Italian poet, novelist, translator. The Burning Brand: Diaries 1935-1950, entry for March 25, 1950 (1952, trans. 1961).
See also Pavese's comment under "suicide.")