Live And Love Quotes (page 26)
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The measure of a life is a measure of love and respect, So hard to earn so easily burned. In the fullness of time, A garden to nurture and protect. It's a measure of a life. The treasure of a life is a measure of love and respect, The way you live, the gifts that you give. In the fullness of time, It's the only return that you expect
Neil Peart
It is the most fun I’m ever going to have. I love to write. I love it. I mean, there’s nothing in the world I like better, and that includes sex, probably because I’m so very bad at it. It’s the greatest peace when I’m in a scene, and it’s just me and the character, that’s it, that’s where I want to live my life.
Joss Whedon
Life is made up of moments, small pieces of glittering mica in a long stretch of gray cement. It would be wonderful if they came to us unsummoned, but particularly in lives as busy as the ones most of us lead now, that won’t happen. We have to teach ourselves how to make room for them, to love them, and to live, really live.
A. Whitney Brown
In Flanders fields the poppies blow. Between the crosses, row on row. That mark our place; and in the sky. The larks, still bravely singing, fly. Scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the Dead. Short days ago. We lived, felt dawn saw sunset glow. Loved and were loved, and now we lie. In Flanders fields. Take up our quarrel with the foe; To you, from falling hands we throw. The torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die. We shall not sleep, though poppies grow. In...
John McCrae
This was the first living creature I had ever loved passionately, because he returned my affection. My love for the animal was, no doubt, exaggerated and ridiculous. I has a vague idea that in some way we were brothers, both lost in life, both lonely and defenseless. He never left me, slept at foot of my bed, was fed in the dining-room in spite of my parents' protests and he came with me on my solitary walks.
Guy de Maupassant
In the beginning war looks and feels like love. But unlike love it gives nothing in return but an ever-deepening dependence, like all narcotics, on the road to self-destruction. It does not affirm but places upon us greater and greater demands. It destroys the outside world until it is hard to live outside war's grip. It takes a higher and higher dose to achieve any thrill. Finally, one ingests war only to remain numb.
Chris Hedges
but most of all he liked to listen to stories of real life. He smiled gleefully as he listened to such stories, putting in words and asking questions, all aiming at bringing out clearly the moral beauty of the action of which he was told. Attachments, friendships, love, as Pierre understood them, Karataev had none, but he loved and lived on affectionate terms with every creature with whom he was thrown in life, and especially so with man- not with any particular man, but with the men that...
Leo Tolstoy
