Virgil - Love Quotes

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Me, guilty me, make me your aim,
O Rutules! mine is all the blame;
He did no wrong, nor e'er could do;
That sky, those stars attest 'tis true;
Love for his friend too freely shown,
This was his crime, and this alone.

Virgil
Thus every creature, and of every kind,
The secret joys of sweet coition find.
Not only man's imperial race, but they
That wing the liquid air, or swim the sea,
Or haunt the desert, rush into the flame:
For love is lord of all, and is in all the same.

Virgil
Just so, if one may compare small things with great, an innate love of getting drives these Attic bees each with his own function.

Virgil
Despair, and rage, and love divide her heart;
Despair and rage had some, but love the greater part.

Virgil
Rage boiling from the bottom of his breast,
And sorrow, mix'd with shame, his soul oppress'd;
And conscious worth lay lab'ring in his thought;
And love by jealousy to madness wrought.

Virgil
Love conquers all; let us, too, yield to love.

Virgil
Love conquers all things; let us too surrender to Love.

Virgil
Thus having said, she turn'd, and made appear
Her neck refulgent, and disheveled hair,
Which, flowing from her shoulders, reached the ground,
And widely spread ambrosial scents around.
In length of train descends her sweeping gown;
And by her graceful walk the Queen of Love is known.

Virgil
Come, see what pleasures in our plains abound:
The woods, the fountains, and the flow'ry ground:
As you are beauteous, were you half so true,
Here could I live, and love, and die with only you.

Virgil
Curst Love! what lengths of tyrant scorn
Wreak'st not on those of woman born?

Virgil
May the countryside and the gliding valley streams content me. Lost to fame, let me love river and woodland.

Virgil
The Shepherd, Corydon, burned with love for handsome Alexis, his master's favourite, but he was not getting what he hoped for.

Virgil
I will be gone from here and sing my songs/ In the forest wilderness where the wild beasts are,/ And carve in letters on the little trees/ The story of my love, and as the trees/ Will grow letters too will grow, to cry/ In a louder voice the story of my love.

Virgil
In his deepest heart there surge tremendous shame and madness mixed with sorrow and love whipped on by frenzy and a courage aware of its own worth.

Virgil