LOVE
Odi et amo. Quare id faciam, fortasse requiris.
Nescio: sed fieri sentio, et excrucior.
I hate and I love. Why do I do so you perhaps ask.
I cannot say; but I feel it to be so, and I am tormented accordingly.
Catullus—Carmina. LXXXV.
| seealso = (See also {{sc|Martial)
2
There's no love lost between us.
| author = Cervantes
| work = Don Quixote.
| place = Bk. IV. Ch. 13.
Fielding—Grub Street. Act I. Sc. 4.
| author = Garrick
| work = Correspondence. (1759) | author = Goldsmith
| work = She Stoops to Conquer. Act IV.
Ben Jonson—Every Man Out of His Humour. Act II. Sc. 1. Le Sage—Gil Bias.
Bk. IX. Ch. VII. As trans, by Smollett.
It's love, it's love that makes the world go round.
Popular French song in Chansons Nationales
et Populaires de France. Vol. II. P. 180.
(About 1821)
| topic = Love
| page = 467
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>I tell thee Love is Nature's second sun,
,/ Causing a spring of virtues where he shines.
George Chapman—All Fools. Act I. Sc. 1.
L. 98.
| author =
| work =
| place =
| note =
| topic = Love
| page = 467
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num = 5
| text = None ever loved, but at first sight they loved.
George Chapman—The Blind Beggar of Alexandria.
| seealso = (See also Marlowe)
| topic = Love
| page = 467
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>Banish that fear; my name can never waste,
For love sincere refines upon the taste.
Collet Cibber—The Double Gallant. Act V.
Sc. 1.
So mourn'd the dame of Ephesus her love.
Collet Cibber—Richard III. Act II.
Altered from Shakespeare.
What have I done? What horrid crime committed?
To me the worst of crimes—outliv'd my liking.
Collet Cibber—Richard III. Act III. Sc.
2. Altered from Shakespeare.
| seealso = (See also Crashaw)
| topic = Love
| page = 467
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>Vivunt in venerem frondes omnisque vicissim
Felix arbor amat; mutant ad mutua palmse
Foedera.
The leaves live but to love, and in all the
lofty grove the happy trees love each his
neighbor.
Claudianus—De Nuptiis Honorii et Marios.
LXV.
Her very frowns are fairer far
Than smiles of other maidens are.
Hartley Coleridge—Song. She is not Fair.
Alas! they had been friends in youth;
But whispering tongues can poison truth,
And constancy lives in realms above;
And life is thorny, and youth is vain;
And to be wroth with one we love
Doth work like madness in the brain.
Coleridge—Christabel. Pt. II.
LOVE 467
All thoughts, all passions, all delights,
Whatever stirs this mortal frame,
All are but ministers of Love,
And feed his sacred flame.
Coleridge—Love. St. 1.
I have heard of reasons manifold
Why love must needs be blind,
But this is the best of all I hold—
His eyes are in his mind.
Coleridge—To a Lady. St. 2.
He that can't live upon love deserves to die in a
ditch.
Congreve.
| author =
| work =
| place =
| note =
| topic = Love
| page = 467
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num = 15
| text = Say what you will, 'tis better to be left
Than never to have loved.
Congreve—Way of the World. Act II. Sc. 1.
| seealso = (See also Crabbe, Guartni, Tennyson)
| topic = Love
| page = 467
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>If there's delight in love, 'tis when I see
The heart, which others bleed for, bleed for me.
Congreve—Way of the World. ActlH. Sc. 3.
I know not when the day shall be,
I know not when our eyes may meet;
What welcome you may give to me,
Or will your words be sad or sweet,
It may not be 'till years have passed,
'Till eyes are dim and tresses gray;
The world is wide, but, love, at last,
Our hands, our hearts, must meet some day.
Hugh Conway—Some Day.
How wise are they that are but fools in love!
How a man may choose a Good Wife. Act I. 1.
Attributed to Joshua Cooke in Diet, of
Nat. Biog.
A mighty pain to love it is,
And 'tis a pain that pain to miss;
But, of all pains, the greatest pain
Is to love, but love in vain.
Abraham Cowley—Trans, of Anacreontic
Odes. VII. Gold. (Anacreon's authorship
doubted.)
| seealso = (See also Moore)
| topic = Love
| page = 467
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>Our love is principle, and has its root
In reason, is judicious, manly, free.
| author = Cowper
| work = The Task. Bk. V. L. 353.
Better to love amiss than nothing to have loved.
Crabbe—The Struggles of Conscience. Tale 14.
| seealso = (See also Congreve)
| topic = Love
| page = 467
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>Heaven's great artillery. ^f
Crashaw—Flaming Heart. L. 56.
Love's great artillery.
Crashaw—Prayer. L. 18.
Mighty Love's artillery.
Crashaw—Wounds of the Lord Jesus. L. 2.
{{Hoyt quote
| num = | text = <poem>And I, what is my crime I cannot tell,
Vnless it be a crime to haue lou'd too well. Crashaw—Alexias.
| seealso = (See also {{sc|Cibber, Pope)
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