Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Quotes

Yet it is awful to love a person who is a torture to you. And a fascinating person who loves you and won't hear of anything but your loving him and living right by his side through all eternity!

Teenage years are all about crushes: crushes so deep you wanted to inhabit the other person, be inside their skin, see the world through their eyes.

I'm crazy for trying, crazy for crying, and I'm crazy for loving you.

One seeks to make the loved one entirely happy, or, if that cannot be, entirely wretched.

To love someone is to isolate him from the world, wipe out every trace of him, dispossess him of his shadow, drag him into a murderous future. It is to circle around the other like a dead star and absorb him into a black light.

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

Anger and jealousy can no more bear to lose sight of their objects than love.

People kill for love. They die for love.

I know exactly how that is. To love somebody who doesn't deserve it.

Amor cuerdo, no es amor. (Sane love, is not love)

.."I don't even know her yet..but if she could see me right now, I'd want her to know that I love her.." ~E.L.~

The punishment of those who have loved women too much is to love them always.

I love you only because it's you the one I love; I hate you deeply, and hating you Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

Love knows nothing of modesty.

I wish that I could love someone so much that I would die from it.

Incredible nervous state, trepidation beyond words: to be this much in love is to be sick (and I love to be sick).

He loves you, really he does. He'd love you even if it destroyed him. He matches you.

I think I'm losing it—I don't know what's happening, what happened, but I look at you, I look at you, and I love you so much. Not because of anything you've said, or done, or anything at all. I look at you, and I just love you, and it terrifies me. It terrifies me what I would do for you.

..because the only kind of love I have to offer is stupid and blind and so deep and powerful that I feel like I'm cracking just to hold it in.

I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.

Too much is how I love you, but too well is how I know you.

...his love was too much for him, he felt paralyzed, he wanted to sleep inside her lungs and breathe her blood and be smothered.

If you have reasons to love someone, you don’t love them.

I basked in you; I loved you, helplessly, with a boundless tongue-tied love. And death doesn't prevent me from loving you. Besides, in my opinion you aren't dead. (I know dead people, and you are not dead.)

I loved you madly; in the distasteful work of the day, in the wakeful misery of the night, girded by sordid realities, or wandering through Paradises and Hells of visions into which I rushed, carrying your image in my arms, I loved you madly.