Romantic Love

The most beautiful words of love are told in silence for a look.

Love’s pleasure lasts but a moment;

 

I love you. I used to pity your sorrow. But now, were you sorrowless, without fear or any lack, still i would love you. J. R. R.

 

The truly erotic sensibility, in evoking the image of woman, never omits to clothe it. The robing and disrobing: that is the true traffic of love.

O Love, O fire! once he drew

 

You are like nobody else since I love you.

Aesthetic emotion puts man in a state favorable to the reception of erotic emotion. Art is the accomplice of love.

What a woman says to an eager lover, / write it on running water, write it on air.

She has always been there, my darling.

Sex is just another form of talk, where you act the words instead of saying them.

Odi et amo: quare id faciam, fortasse requiris.

 

On account of it [“the Love that dare not speak its name”] I am placed where I am now. It is beautiful, it is fine, it is the noblest form of affection. There is nothing unnatural about it. It is intellectual, and it repeatedly exists between an elder and a younger man, when the elder man has intellect, and the younger man has all the joy, hope, and glamour of life before him.

Love is the flower of life, and blossoms unexpectedly and without law, and must be plucked where it is found, and enjoyed for the brief hour of its duration.

And when a lady’s in the case, You know all other things give place.

Love is and was my lord and king.

 

But for the lovers, their arms

The “Love that dare not speak its name” in this century is such a great affection of an elder for a younger man as there was between David and Jonathan, such as Plato made the very basis of his philosophy, and such as you find in the sonnets of Michael Angelo and Shakespeare.

Each time one loves is the only time that one has ever loved. Difference of object does not alter singleness of passion. It merely intensifies it.

in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

A woman can be anything that the man who loves her would have her be.

We loved with a love that was more than love.

He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.

Only the flow matters: live and let live, love and let love.

 

Falling in love is the one illogical adventure, the one thing of which we are tempted to think as supernatural, in our trite and reasonable world.