Henry Ward Beecher Quotes

Love is the triumph of imagination over intelligence.

To live is like to love - all reason is against it, and all healthy instinct for it.

Compassion is more important than intellect in calling forth the love that the work of peace needs, and intuition can often be a far more powerful searchlight than cold reason.

Love is the only rational act.

Try to reason about love, and you will lose your reason.

Trust is an absurd phenomenon, logically absurd. That's why logic always says love is blind, although love has its own eyes, far more deep-going...still, to logic it is blind.

We cannot reason ourselves into love, nor can we reason ourselves out of it, which suggests that love and reason have little to do with each other.

Ask me no reason why I love you; for though Love use Reason for his physician, he admits him not for his counsellor.

Love is wiser than wisdom.

One could pick apart love, examine every filament of attraction, and still it would never be fully explained. It simply was.

Love has nothing to do with good reasons.

I kept looking for a logic that would explain life. It never occurred to me that instead love is the vital synthesis.

People say love is blind because they do not know what love is. I say unto you, only love has eyes; other than love, everything is blind.

love is a deeper season than reason; my sweet one

The most intelligent thing we can do is love, not reason.

The wise are wise only because they love.

Love is ever the beginning of knowledge as fire is of light.

I can't pretend to know what love is. It just is.

Le coeur a ses raisons que la raison ne connait point. French. Pascal. The heart has its reasons, whereof reason knows nothing.

Love isn't blind; it's only love that sees!

Love reasons without reason.

That is the way we are made: we don't reason, where we feel; we just feel.

Art does not tolerate reason.

If no love is, O God, what fele I so? And if love is, what thing and which is he? If love be good, from whennes cometh my woo? If it be wikke, a wonder thynketh me

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.