Leigh Hunt - Love Quotes

11 Sourced Quotes

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If you become a Nun, dear,
The bishop Love will be;
The Cupids every one, dear!
Will chant-'We trust in thee!'

Leigh Hunt
And showed the names whom love of God had bless'd, And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.

Leigh Hunt
Write me as one that loves his fellow men.

Leigh Hunt
Jenny kissed me when we met,
Jumping from the chair she sat in;
Time, you thief, who love to get
Sweets into your list, put that in.
Say I'm weary, say I'm sad,
Say that health and wealth have missed me;
Say I'm growing old, but add
Jenny kissed me.

Leigh Hunt
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the presence in the room he said,
'What writest thou?'—The vision raised its head,
And with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answered, 'The names of those who love the Lord.'

Leigh Hunt
I pray thee then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow-men.

Leigh Hunt
She dropped her glove, to prove his love, then looked at him and smiled;
He bowed, and in a moment leaped among the lions wild:
The leap was quick, return was quick, he has regained his place,
Then threw the glove, but not with love, right in the lady's face.
"By God!" said Francis, "rightly done!" and he rose from where he sat:
"No love," quoth he, "but vanity, sets love a task like that."

Leigh Hunt
We are violets blue, For our sweetness found Careless in the mossy shades, Looking on the ground. Love's dropp'd eyelids and a kiss,-- Such our breath and blueness is.

Leigh Hunt
Nature, at all events, humanly speaking, is manifestly very fond of color; for she has made nothing without it. Her skies are blue; her fields, green; her waters vary with her skies; her animals, vegetables, minerals, are all colored. She paints a great any of them in apparently superfluous hues, as if to show the dullest eye how she loves color.

Leigh Hunt
Nature at all events, humanly speaking, is manifestly very fond of color; for she has made nothing without it. Her skies are blue; her fields green; her waters vary with her skies; her animals, minerals, vegetables, are all colored. She paints a great many of them in apparently superfluous hues, as if to show the dullest eye how she loves colour.

Leigh Hunt
Central depth of purple, Leaves more bright than rose, Who shall tell what brightest thought Out of darkness grows? Who, through what funereal pain, Souls to love and peace attain?

Leigh Hunt