Unrequited Love

My future husband was becoming to me my whole world; and more than the world: almost my hope of heaven. He stood between me and every thought of religion, as an eclipse intervenes between man and the broad sun. I could not, in those days, see God for His creature: of whom I had made an idol.

Your sister is crossed in love, I find. I congratulate her. Next to being married, a girl likes to be crossed in love a little now and then.

Ah, love, let us be true / To one another! for the world, which seems / To lie before us like a land of dreams, / So various, so beautiful, so new, / Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light, / Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain.

To find oneself jilted is a blow to one’s pride. One must do one’s best to forget it and if one doesn’t succeed, at least one must pretend to.

It is the missed opportunity that counts, and in a love that vainly yearns from behind prison bars you have perchance the love supreme.

Love is not always blind and there are few things that cause greater wretchedness than to love with all your heart someone who you know is unworthy of love.

If there’s delight in love, 'tis when I see / That heart which others bleed for, bleed for me.

It is not love that is blind, but jealousy.

Jealousy is not at all low, but it catches us humbled and bowed down, at first sight.

Jealousy’s a proof of love, / But ’tis a weak and unavailing medicine; / It puts out the disease and makes it show, / But has no power to cure.

Jealousy is that pain which a man feels from the apprehension that he is not equally beloved by the person whom he entirely loves.

He injures a fair lady that beholds her not.

O, if thou car'st not whom I love / Alas, thou lov’st not me.

When once the young heart of a maiden is stolen, / The maiden herself will steal after it soon.

Do not let any sweet-talking woman beguile your good sense / with the fascinations of her shape. It’s your barn she’s after.

Let men tremble to win the hand of woman, unless thy win along with it the utmost passion of her heart!

The lover says how beautiful you are, now that you love me.

Hell, Madame, is to love no longer.

The only way of knowing a person is to love them without hope.

That's the nature of women not to love when we love them, and to love when we love them not.

The important thing was to love rather than to be loved. W.

One is very crazy when in love.

Whoever loves becomes humble. Those who love have, so to speak, pawned a part of their narcissism.

It is impossible to love and to be wise.