Love is merely a madness.
Love sought is good, but given unsought is better.
The course of true love never did run smooth.
Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none.
Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love.
Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind.
The sight of lovers feedeth those in love.
My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite.
Love is a spirit all compact of fire.
Love is not love that alters when it alteration finds.
They do not love that do not show their love.
Love sought is good, but giv’n unsought is better.
Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books.
For where thou art, there is the world itself, And where thou art not, desolation.
I would not wish any companion in the world but you.
My heart is ever at your service.
And when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And asleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me must be heard of or seen-then in a year Or in a century it will be as if I never lived.
If music be the food of love, play on.
Love sought is good, but giv’n unsought is better.
Love is too young to know what conscience is.
Love to faults is always blind, always is to joy inclined. Lawless, winged, and unconfined, and breaks all chains from every mind.
Love can transpose to form and dignity.
The love of heaven makes one heavenly.
If thou remember’st not the slightest folly that ever love did make thee run into, thou hast not loved.
They do not love that do not show their love.
The sight of lovers feedeth those in love.
What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.
Love is blind and lovers cannot see.
The sweetest honey is loathsome in his own deliciousness And in the taste confounds the appetite. therefore love moderately.
Parting is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say good night till it be morrow.
This bud of love, by summer’s ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.
Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all.
Cupid is a knavish lad, thus to make poor females mad.
The more thou damm’st it up, the more it burns.
Love is a smoke raised with the fumes of sighs.
Love is a familiar. Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but Love.
Love is a spirit all compact of fire.
I love you more than words can wield the matter.
But love is blind and lovers cannot see The pretty follies that themselves commit.
Man may be so in love with a woman that he cannot help telling her so every day.
Love is the most beautiful of dreams and the worst of nightmares.
Love is a rebellious bird that nobody can tame.
Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.
The course of true love never did run smooth.
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