Knut Hamsun Quotes

A real flame of love is a subtle thing. It burns as a will-o'-the-wisp, dancing onward to fairy lands of delight. It roars as a furnace. Too often jealousy is the quality upon which it feeds.

Murder is born of love, and love attains the greatest intensity in murder.

What a strange world it is where you can have as much sex as you like but love is taboo. I'm talking about the real thing, the grand passion, which may not allow affection or convenience or happiness. The truth is that love smashes into your life like an ice floe, and even if your heart is built like the Titanic you go down. That's the size of it, the immensity of it. It's not proper, it's not clean, it's not containable.

Love is the most dangerous thing in the world.

Love is so small it can tear itself through the eye of a needle

Yes, it's crazy. Love is either crazy or it's nothing at all.

I love being in love. I don't think anything compares with it, though I consider it very disruptive.

Like love, destruction can be ecstatic.

Love is like fire, a dangerous thing to play with, although the best of friends and the most loyal of servants when rightly handled.

Love, the simplest, strongest, and most unforgiving of all emotions.

I wonder why love is so often equated with joy when it is everything else as well. Devastation, balm, obsession, granting and receiving excessive value, and losing it again. It is recognition, often of what you are not but might be. It sears and it heals. It is beyond pity and above law. It can seem like truth.

Desire doubled is love and love doubled is madness.

Loving is almost a substitute for thinking. Love is a burning forgetfulness of all other things. How shall we ask passion to be logical?

Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides.

Love, a brilliant fire, to gladden or consume.

If you love with violence and you hate with violence there is nothing that can be questioned.

Love is a burning thing and it makes a firey ring.

Jealousy is not contemptible, real love has a beak and claws.

It is only in love and murder that we still remain sincere.

Love is of all passions the strongest, for it attacks simultaneously the head, the heart and the senses.

Love is jealous, and ingenious in self-torture in proportion as it is pure and intense.

Love is a perky elf dancing a merry little jig and then suddenly he turns on you with a miniature machine gun.

Love is a fire. But whether it is going to warm your hearth or burn down your house, you can never tell.