In love, as in everything else, experience is a physician who never comes until after the disorder is cured.—Mme. de la Tour.
One expresses well only the love he does not feel.—Alphonse Karr.
In love, as in war, a fortress that parleys is half taken.—Marguerite de Valois.
A supreme love, a motive that gives a sublime rhythm to a woman's life, and exalts habit into partnership with the soul's highest needs, is not to be had where and how she wills: to know that high initiation, she must often tread where it is hard to tread, and feel the chill air, and watch through darkness.—George Eliot.
To love one who loves you, to admire one who admires you, in a word, to be the idol of one's idol, is exceeding the limit of human joy; it is stealing fire from heaven and deserves death.—Madame de Girardin.
But to enlarge or illustrate this power and effects of love is to set a candle in the sun.—Burton.
There are as many kinds of love as there are races. A great tall German, learned, virtuous, phlegmatic, said one day: "Souls are sisters, fallen from heaven, who all at once recognize and run to meet each other." A little dry Frenchman, hot-blooded, witty, lively, replied to him: "You are right; you can always find shoes to fit."—Taine.
Love supreme defies all sophistry.—George Eliot.
It is strange that men will talk of miracles, revelations, inspiration, and the like, as things past, while love remains.—Thoreau.
The love of man to woman is a thing common, and of course, and at first partakes more of instinct and passion than of choice; but true friendship between man and man is infinite and immortal.—Plato.