John Dryden Quotes

There is such sweet pain in parting that I could hang forever on thine arms, and look away my life into thine eyes.

I have been so great a lover: filled my days So proudly with the splendour of Love's praise, The pain, the calm, and the astonishment, Desire illimitable, and silent content, And all dear names men use, to cheat despair, For the perplexed and viewless streams that bear Our hearts at random down the dark of life.

The essence of romantic love is that wonderful beginning, after which sadness and impossibility may become the rule.

For the most part, that message hasn't changed a lot over the years - love is still love, and heartbreak is still heartbreak.

Romantic love is painful.

You say that love is nonsense. I tell you it is no such thing. For weeks and months it is a steady physical pain, an ache about the heart, never leaving one, by night or by day; a long strain on one's nerves like toothache or rheumatism, not intolerable at any one instant, but exhausting by its steady drain on the strength.

Never let me lose the marvel of your statue-like eyes, or the accent the solitary rose of your breath places on my cheek at night. I am afraid of being, on this shore, a branchless trunk, and what I most regret is having no flower, pulp, or clay for the worm of my despair. If you are my hidden treasure, if you are my cross, my dampened pain, if I am a dog, and you alone my master, never let me lose what I have gained, and adorn the branches of your river with leaves of my estranged Autumn.

Love's lengthways splits the heart in two - the heart where you are, the heart where you want to be.

The excesses of love soon pass, but its insufficiencies torment us forever.

Romance is the sweetening of the soul With fragrance offered by the stricken heart.

When love leaves the world, all hearts are still. Tell them of my love and tell them of my pain and tell them of my hope, which still lives. For this is all I have and all I am and all I ask.

When you’re in love, it’s not just about the messing around in the sack, it’s about how empty you feel when they’re gone.

O beauty, are you not enough; why am I crying after love.

Have patience; the lovers will suffer lovers always suffer.

Anyone who falls in love is searching for the missing pieces of themselves. So anyone who's in love gets sad when they think of their lover. It's like stepping back inside a room you have fond memories of, one you haven't seen in a long time.

There are lovers content with longing. I’m not one of them.

Love! Beyond measure — beyond death — it nearly kills. But one wouldn't have been without it.

Some say that love is the sweetest feeling, the purest form of joy, but that isn't right. It's not love--it's relief.

The pleasures of love lasts but a fleeting but the pledges of life outlusts a lieftime.

All we really want is love's confusing joy.

Love's very pain is sweet