Some dreams we have are nothing else but dreams, Unnatural and full of contradictions; Yet others of our most romantic schemes, Are something more than fictions.
Thomas HoodRead
Oh, if it be to choose and call thee mine, love, thou art every day my Valentine!
Interpretation
What this quote means
The quote expresses a deep affection and commitment, suggesting that love is a daily celebration.
In this quote, Thomas Hood poetically conveys the idea that love is not limited to a single day, like Valentine's Day, but is a continuous choice and devotion that enriches every day. By calling his beloved 'mine,' he emphasizes ownership and closeness, suggesting that true love is celebrated daily through actions and feelings.
Themes
LoveCommitmentAffectionValentineDevotion
In practice
Example use cases
During a wedding ceremony, expressing heartfelt sentiments to your partner.
More from Thomas Hood
All quotes βTis like the birthday of the world,_x000D_ _x000D_ When earth was born in bloom;_x000D_ _x000D_ The light is made of many dyes,_x000D_ _x000D_ The air is all perfume:_x000D_ _x000D_ There's crimson buds, and white and blue,_x000D_ _x000D_ The very rainbow showers_x000D_ _x000D_ Have turned to blossoms where they fell,_x000D_ _x000D_ And sown the earth with flowers.
Thomas HoodRead
Some minds improve by travel, others, rather, resemble copper wire, or brass, which get the narrower by going farther.
Thomas HoodRead
It was a childish ignorance, But now 'tis little joy To know I'm further off from heaven Than when I was a boy.
Thomas HoodRead
The Autumn is old; The sere leaves are flying; He hath gather'd up gold, And now he is dying;- Old age, begin sighing!
Thomas HoodRead
I resolved that, like the sun, as long as my day lasted, I would look on the bright side of everything.
Thomas HoodRead
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Emma ForrestRead
Every kiss provokes another. Oh, in those earliest days of love how naturally the kisses spring to life! So closely, in their profusion, do they crowd together that lovers would find it as hard to count the kisses exchanged in an hour as to count the flowers in a meadow in May.
Marcel ProustRead