Love is a smoke and is made with the fume of sighs.

They do not love that do not show their love. The course of true love never did run smooth. Love is a familiar. Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but Love.

Eternity was in our lips and eyes, Bliss in our brows’ bent; none our parts so poor But was a race of heaven.

Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love.

Love me or hate me, both are in my favor…If you love me, I’ll always be in your heart…If you hate me, I’ll always be in your mind.

Don’t waste your love on somebody, who doesn’t value it.

Things base and vile, folding no quantity, Love can transpose to form and dignity: Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; And therefore is wing’d Cupid painted blind: Nor hath Love’s mind of any judgement taste; Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste: And therefore is Love said to be a child, Because in choice he is so oft beguiled.

If you love and get hurt, love more. If you love more and hurt more, love even more. If you love even more and get hurt even more, love some more until it hurts no more.

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind.

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 smoke raised with the fume of sighs; Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers’ eyes; Being vex’d a sea nourish’d with lovers’ tears: What is it else? a madness most discreet, A choking gall and a preserving sweet.

This bud of love, by summer’s ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.

Hear my soul speak: The very instant that I saw you, did My heart fly to your service.

This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.

Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none.

Love asks me no question, and give me endless support.

As love is full of unbefitting strains, All wanton as a child, skipping and vain, Form’d by the eye and therefore, like the eye,Full of strange shapes, of habits and of forms, Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll To every varied object in his glance

When Love speaks, the voice of all the gods Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony.

Image Credit: Emma_Ramsay