10 Greatest Love Stories in History - History Lists
For couples in relationships, social media platforms, especially Instagram, provide an outlet to share Cute Relationship Quotes; Simple Romantic Captions for Couples; Romantic Quotes from Books . “True love stories never have endings. No less than 79 thoughtful stories, motivational tales, .. the lack of money, the complicated relationship with a family member, the disappointment with a friend. Physical relationship story, intimacy in relationship, love Physical Relationship Love Story In Hindi . Cute Couple Prince nd Surbhi.
Iseult marries King Mark but the love potion makes the lovers unable to resist each other. They manage to escape death but Iseult is forced to return to Mark.
Tristan leaves Cornwall and marries another woman named Iseult. But when he is mortally wounded by a poison lance, he calls for his only true love. The story ends with Tristan dying of despair, convinced that Iseult does not want to come to him, while Iseult dies of grief after finding her lover dead. It is thought to have been inspired or influenced by that of Tristan and Iseult. Just like the latter, Lancelot and Guinevere are adulterous lovers.
Guinevere is married to King Arthur who, just like King Mark does not suspect anything at first. He eventually finds out about his wife being unfaithful to him with one of his most loyal knights. After several fierce battles between the two men, Guinevere returns to King Arthur but the destruction of the Round Table enables Mordred to challenge Arthur. The legendary king kills his rival but he is mortally wounded. Lancelot enters a hermitage and eventually becomes a priest.
Both spend the rest of their lives in repentance. Romeo and Juliet Probably the most famous love story of all was written by the celebrated English poet and playwright William Shakespeare sometime in the s. The latter is believed to be an English translation of a novella of Italian writer Matteo Bandello.
But even his Romeo and Juliet are not original.
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The story reveals a major influence of ancient tragic love stories, most notably of the Roman story of Pyramus and Thisbe whose families despise each other and prevent the lovers to be together.
Just like Pyramus kills himself, falsely believing that Thisbe is dead, Romeo also commits suicide for mistakenly believing that Juliet is dead. Thisbe follows her lover in death upon discovering his dead body which is exactly what Juliet does when she finds Romeo dead. Both Thisbe and Juliet stab themselves but Romeo, unlike Pyreus who stabs himself with his sword, drinks a poison. Shah Jahan and Mumtaz Mahal Their names may largely be unfamiliar to most people in the West but their love produced a monument that is famous all over the world — Taj Mahal.
Shah Jahan and Mumtaz Mahal were Mughal Royal couple who shared a loving marriage until Mumtaz died while giving birth to their 14th child. Shortly after completing Taj Mahal, Shah got ill and was overthrown by his eldest son.
He spent the rest of his life in house arrest and was buried next to his wife. The legend has it that he planned to build an exact copy of Taj Mahal in black marble on the opposite bank of the river Yamuna but the works never started.
Napoleon and Josephine The relationship between Napoleon and Josephine, a six years older widow with two children was turbulent from the very start. Only two days after their wedding day, Napoleon left on a military campaign in Italy.Love By Chance Cute Romantic School Love Story - 2018 - Hindi Short Film - Love With Driver's Son
Josephine who stayed behind in Paris soon started an affair with lieutenant Hippolyte Charles. And when it became clear that Josephine is unable to have children, Napoleon decided to divorce her.
The dark spots are very small when compared to everything we have in our lives, but they are the ones that pollute our minds. Take your the eyes away from the black dots in your lives. Enjoy each one of your blessings, each moment that life gives you. Be happy and live a life filled with love! There's a hole in the sidewalk. It is a very deep hole. It isn't my fault. It takes forever to find a way out. There's a deep hole in the sidewalk. I pretend I don't see it. I can't believe I'm in the same place, but it isn't my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out. I see it is there. I still fall in I know where I am. It is my fault. I get out immediately. I walk down the same street. I walk around it.
I walk down another street. Portia Nelson Changing our vision There was a very wealthy man who was bothered by severe eye pain. He consulted many physicians and was being treated by several. He did not stop consulting a galaxy of medical experts; he consumed heavy loads of drugs and underwent hundreds of injections.
But the ache persisted with more vigour than before. At last, a monk who was supposed to be an expert in treating such patients was called for by the suffering man. The monk understood his problem and said that for sometime he should concentrate only on green colours and not to let his eyes fall on any other colours. It was a strange prescription, but he was desperate and decided to try it. The millionaire got together a group of painters and purchased barrels of green paint and directed that every object his eye was likely to fall to be painted green just as the monk had directed.
When the monk came to visit him after few days, the millionaire's servants ran with buckets of green paint and poured it on him since he was in red dress, lest their master see any other colour and his eye ache would come back. Hearing this, the monk laughed and said "If only you had purchased a pair of green spectacles, worth just a few dollars, you could have saved these walls and trees and pots and all other articles and also could have saved a large share of his fortune.
You cannot paint the world green. It is foolish to shape the world, let us shape ourselves first. The two pebbles Many years ago in a small Italian town, a merchant had the misfortune of owing a large sum of money to the moneylender.
The moneylender, who was old and ugly, fancied the merchant's beautiful daughter, so he proposed a bargain. He said he would forgo the merchant's debt if he could marry the daughter. Both the merchant and his daughter were horrified by the proposal. The moneylender told them that he would put a black pebble and a white pebble into an empty bag.
The girl would then have to pick one pebble from the bag. If she picked the black pebble, she would become the moneylender's wife and her father's debt would be forgiven. If she picked the white pebble, she need not marry him and her father's debt would still be forgiven. But, if she refused to pick a pebble, her father would be thrown into jail. They were standing on a pebble-strewn path in the merchant's garden.
As they talked, the moneylender bent over to pick up two pebbles. As he picked them up, the sharp-eyed girl noticed that he had picked up two black pebbles and put them into the bag. He then asked the girl to pick her pebble from the bag. The girl put her hand into the bag and drew out a pebble. Without looking at it, she fumbled and let it fall onto the pebble-strewn path where it immediately became lost among all the other pebbles.
We are never alone Do you know the legend of the Cherokee Indian youth's rite of passage? His father takes him into the forrest He is required to sit on a stump the whole night He is all by himself. He cannot cry out for help to anyone.
Once he survives the night He cannot tell the other boys of this experience. Each boy must come into his own manhood. The boy was terrified Beasts were all around him. Maybe even some human would hurt him. The wind blew the grass and earth But he sat stoically It would be the only way he could be a man. Finally, after a horrific night It was then that he saw his father We are never truly alone. Even when we do not know it, our family and friends are watching out for us What love is all about It was a busy morning, approximately 8: He stated that he was in a hurry and that he had an appointment at 9: I took his vital signs, and had him take a seat, knowing it would be over an hour before someone would be able to see him.
I saw him looking at his watch and decided, since I was not busy with another patient, I would evaluate his wound. On exam it was well healed, so I talked to one of the doctors, got the needed supplies to remove his sutures and redressed his wound.
While taking care of him, we began to engage in conversation. I asked him if he had a doctor's appointment this morning, as he was in such a hurry. The gentleman told me no, that he needed to go to the nursing home to eat breakfast with his wife.
I then inquired as to her health. He told me that she had been there for awhile and was a victim of Alzheimer's Disease. As we talked and I finished dressing his wound, I asked if she would be worried if he was a bit late.
He replied that she no longer knew who he was, and hadn't recognized him in five years. I was surprised, and asked him, "And you still go every morning, even though she doesn't know who you are? In her grief, she went to the holy man and asked, "What prayers, what magical incantations do you have to bring my son back to life? We will use it to drive the sorrow out of your life. She came first to a splendid mansion, knocked at the door, and said, "I am looking for a home that has never known sorrow.
Is this such a place? It is very important to me. The woman said to herself, "Who is better able to help these poor, unfortunate people than I, who have had misfortune of my my own? But wherever she turned, in hotels and in other places, she found one tale after another of sadness and misfortune.
The woman became so involved in helping others cope with their sorrows that she eventually let go of her own. She would later come to understand that it was the quest to find the magical mustard seed that drove away her suffering. It is six days of no sleep, constant physical and mental harassment and one special day at the Mud Flats. The Mud Flats are an area between San Diego and Tijuana where the water runs off and creates the Tijuana slues—a swampy patch of terrain where the mud will engulf you.
It is on Wednesday of Hell Week that you paddle down to the mud flats and spend the next 15 hours trying to survive the freezing-cold mud, the howling wind and the incessant pressure from the instructors to quit. As the sun began to set that Wednesday evening, my training class, having committed some "egregious infraction of the rules" was ordered into the mud.
The mud consumed each man till there was nothing visible but our heads. The instructors told us we could leave the mud if only five men would quit—just five men and we could get out of the oppressive cold. Looking around the mud flat, it was apparent that some students were about to give up. It was still over eight hours till the sun came up—eight more hours of bone-chilling cold. The chattering teeth and shivering moans of the trainees were so loud it was hard to hear anything.
And then, one voice began to echo through the night—one voice raised in song. The song was terribly out of tune, but sung with great enthusiasm. One voice became two, and two became three, and before long everyone in the class was singing.
We knew that if one man could rise above the misery then others could as well. The instructors threatened us with more time in the mud if we kept up the singing—but the singing persisted. And somehow, the mud seemed a little warmer, the wind a little tamer and the dawn not so far away. If I have learned anything in my time traveling the world, it is the power of hope.
The power of one person—Washington, Lincoln, King, Mandela and even a young girl from Pakistan named Malala—can change the world by giving people hope. So, if you want to change the world, start singing when you're up to your neck in mud. The commencement address by Admiral William H. McRaven, ninth commander of U. Special Operations Command, at the University of Texas at Austin on 17 May The two brothers Once upon a time, two brothers who lived on adjoining farms fell into conflict.
It was the first serious rift in 40 years of farming side by side, sharing machinery, and trading labour and goods as needed without a hitch. Then the long collaboration fell apart. It began with a small misunderstanding and it grew into a major difference, and finally it exploded into an exchange of bitter words followed by weeks of silence.
One morning there was a knock on John's door. He opened it to find a man with a carpenter's toolbox. Could I help you? Look across the creek at that farm. In fact, it's my younger brother.
Last week there was a meadow between us and he took his bulldozer to the river levee and now there is a creek between us. Well, he may have done this to spite me, but I'll go him one better.
See that pile of lumber curing by the barn? I want you to build me a fence - an 8-foot fence - so I won't need to see his place anymore. Cool him down anyhow. Show me the nails and the post hole digger and I'll be able to do a job that pleases you. The carpenter worked hard all that day measuring, sawing, and nailing. About sunset when the farmer returned, the carpenter had just finished his job. The farmer's eyes opened wide, his jaw dropped.
There was no fence there at all. It was a bridge - a bridge stretching from one side of the creek to the other! A fine piece of work - handrails and all - and the neighbour, his younger brother, was coming across, his hand outstretched. They turned to see the carpenter hoist his toolbox on his shoulder. Stay a few days. I've a lot of other projects for you," said the older brother. One leads to isolation and the other to openness.
The other side of the wall There was a young woman who took great pride in the growth and care of the flowers in her flower garden. She had been raised by her grandmother who taught her to love and care for flowers as she herself had done. So, like her grandmother, her flower garden was second to none. One day while looking through a flower catalogue she often ordered from, a picture of a plant immediately caught her eye. She had never seen blooms on a flower like that before.
When it arrived, she already had a place prepared to plant it. She planted it at the base of a stone wall at the back of her yard. It grew vigorously, with beautiful green leaves all over it, but there were no blooms.
Day after day she continued to cultivate it, water it, feed it, and she even talked to it attempting to coax it to bloom. But, it was to no avail. One morning weeks later, as she stood before the vine, she contemplated how disappointed she was that her plant had not bloomed.
She was giving considerable thought to cutting it down and planting something else in its place. It was at this point that her invalid neighbor, whose lot joined hers, called over to her. There were indeed the most beautiful blooms she had ever seen. The vine had crept through the crevices and it had not flowered on her side of the fence, it had flowered luxuriantly on the other side.
Just because you cannot see the good result of your labour does not mean that it bore no fruit. Randy Reynolds The two lumberjacks It was the annual lumberjack competition and the final was between an older, experienced lumberjack and a younger, stronger lumberjack.
The rule of the competition was quite simply who could fell the most trees in a day was the winner. The younger lumberjack was full of enthusiasm and went off into the wood and set to work straight away. He worked all through the day and all through the night. As he worked, he could hear the older lumberjack working in another part of the forest and he felt more and more confident with every tree he felled that he would win. At regular intervals throughout the day, the noise of trees being felled coming from the other part of the forest would stop.
The younger lumberjack took heart from this, knowing that this meant the older lumberjack was taking a rest, whereas he could use his superior youth and strength and stamina to keep going. At the end of the competition, the younger lumberjack felt confident he had won. He looked in front of him at the piles of felled trees that were the result of his superhuman effort.
At the medal ceremony, he stood on the podium confident and expecting to be awarded the prize of champion lumberjack.
Next to him stood the older lumberjack who looked surprisingly less exhausted than he felt. When the results were read out, he was devastated to hear that the older lumberjack had chopped down significantly more trees than he had. He turned to the older lumber jack and said: I heard you take a rest every hour and I worked continuously through the night.
The older lumberjack turned to him and said: The last ride I arrived at the address and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes, I honked again. Since this was going to be my last ride of my shift, I thought about just driving away, but instead I put the car in park and walked up to the door and knocked. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.
After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90s stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a s movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase.
The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters.
In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness.
When we got in the cab, she gave me an address and then asked, 'Could you drive through downtown? I'm on my way to a hospice. Her eyes were glistening. For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.
True And Untold Love Stories
Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing. As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, 'I'm tired.
We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her.
I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair. Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly. Behind me, a door shut.
It was the sound of the closing of a life. I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift?
What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away? On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life. We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware - beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one. I found it was difficult to change the world, so I tried to change my nation.
When I found I couldn't change the nation, I began to focus on my town. I couldn't change the town and as an older man, I tried to change my family. Now, as an old man, I realize the only thing I can change is myself, and suddenly I realize that if long ago I had changed myself, I could have made an impact on my family. My family and I could have made an impact on our town.
Their impact could have changed the nation and I could indeed have changed the world. We were driving in the right lane when suddenly a black car jumped out of a parking space right in front of us. My taxi driver slammed on his brakes, skidded, and missed the other car by just inches!
The driver of the other car whipped his head around and started yelling at us. My taxi driver just smiled and waved at the guy. And I mean, he was really friendly. So I asked, 'Why did you just do that? This guy almost ruined your car and sent us to the hospital!
He explained that many people are like garbage trucks. They run around full of garbage, full of frustration, full of anger, and full of disappointment.
As their garbage piles up, they need a place to dump it and sometimes they'll dump it on you. Don't take it personally, just smile, wave, wish them well, and move on. Don't take their garbage and spread it to other people at work, at home, or on the streets. The two hospital patients Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs.
His bed was next to the room's only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back. The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on holiday. And every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.
The man in the other bed began to live for those one-hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and colour of the world outside. The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats.
Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every colour of the rainbow. Grand old trees graced the landscape and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance. As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.
One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by. Although the other man couldn't hear the band - he could see it in his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words. Days and weeks passed. One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep.
She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away. As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window.
The nurse was happy to make the switch and, after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone. Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the world outside. Finally, he would have the joy of seeing it for himself. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed.
It faced a blank wall. The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window. The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall. She said, "Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you.
Her husband had always been a tender and loving soulmate before he had left for the wars but, ever since he returned home, he was cross, angry, and unpredictable. She was almost afraid to live with her own husband. Only in glancing moments did she catch a shadow of the husband she used to know and love. When one ailment or another bothered people in her village, they would often rush for a cure to a hermit who lived deep in the mountains.
She always prided herself that she could heal her own troubles. But this time was different. As Yun Ok approached the hermit's hut, she saw the door was open. The old man said without turning around: His back still to her, he said, "Ah yes, it's often that way when soldiers return from the war. What do you expect me to do about it? There is a potion that will restore your husband to the way he used to be, but you should know that it requires an unusual ingredient.
You must bring me a whisker from a live tiger. He turned his back. As you can see, I'm very busy. How could she get a whisker from a live tiger? The next day before dawn, she crept out of the house with a bowl of rice covered with meat sauce. She went to a cave on the mountainside where a tiger was known to live. She clicked her tongue very softly as she crept up, her heart pounding, and carefully set the bowl on the grass.
Then, trying to make as little noise as she could, she backed away. The next day before dawn, she took another bowl of rice covered with meat sauce to the cave. She approached the same spot, clicking softly with her tongue. She saw that the bowl was empty, replaced the empty one with a fresh one, and again left, clicking softly and trying not to break twigs or rustle leaves, or do anything else to startle and unsettle the wild beast.
So it went, day after day, for several months.
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She never saw the tiger thank goodness for that! Then one day as she approached, she noticed the tiger's head poking out of its cave. Glancing downward, she stepped very carefully to the same spot and with as little noise as she could, set down the fresh bowl and, her heart pounding, picked up the one that was empty.
A sweet Hindi Love Story - Muhabbat ho to aisi
After a few weeks, she noticed the tiger would come out of its cave as it heard her footsteps, though it stayed a distance away again, thank goodness! Another month went by. Then the tiger would wait by the empty food bowl as it heard her approaching. As she picked up the old bowl and replaced it with a fresh one, she could smell its scent, as it could surely smell hers. Not a week later, the tiger allowed her to gently rub its head, and it purred and stretched like a house cat.
Then she knew the time had come. The next morning, very early, she brought with her a small knife. After she set down the fresh bowl and the tiger allowed her to pet its head, she said in a low voice: She stood up, speaking softly her thanks, and left, for the last time. The next morning seemed endless. At last her husband left for the rice fields.
She ran to the hermit's hut, clutching the precious whisker in her fist. Bursting in, she cried to the hermit: I have the tiger's whisker! With pride she handed him the whisker. The hermit examined it, satisfied himself that it was indeed a whisker from a live tiger, then flicked it into the fire where it sizzled and burned in an instant.
Tell me, is a man more vicious than a tiger? If a dangerous wild beast will respond to your gradual and patient care, do you think a man will respond any less willingly? Then she turned and stepped down the trail, turning over in her mind images of the tiger and of her husband, back and forth. She knew what she could do. Korean fable The hedgehogs It was the coldest winter ever. Many animals died because of the cold.
The hedgehogs, realizing the situation, decided to group together to keep warm. This way they covered and protected themselves; but the quills of each one wounded their closest companions.
After awhile, they decided to distance themselves one from the other and they began to die, alone and frozen. So they had to make a choice: Wisely, they decided to go back to being together.
They learned to live with the little wounds caused by the close relationship with their companions in order to receive the heat that came from the others. This way they were able to survive. The best relationship is not the one that brings together perfect people, but when each individual learns to live with the imperfections of others and can admire the other person's good qualities.
The fence There once was a little boy who had a bad temper. His father gave him a bag of nails and told him that every time he lost his temper, he must hammer a nail into the fence. The first day the boy had driven 37 nails into the fence. Over the next few weeks as he learned to control his anger, the number of nails hammered daily, gradually dwindled down. He discovered it was easier to hold his temper than to drive those nails into the fence.
He told his father about it and the father suggested that the boy now pull out one nail for each day that he was able to hold his temper. The days passed and the young boy was finally able to tell his father that all the nails were gone. The father took his son by the hand and led him to the fence.
The fence will never be the same. When you say things in anger, they leave a scar just like this one. Make sure you control your temper the next time you are tempted to say something you will regret later. Your influence on the universe I read the first chapter of "A Brief History Of Time" when Dad was still alive, and I got incredibly heavy boots about how relatively insignificant life is, and how, compared to the universe and compared to time, it didn't even matter if I existed at all.
When Dad was tucking me in that night and we were talking about the book, I asked if he could think of a solution to that problem. What would that mean? And it has existed for million of years. And you changed it! I'm just talking about moving that one grain of sand one millimetre.
Affronted, the factory owner demands an itemised version. The expert is happy to oblige: For knowing which screw to turn: Oliver Burkeman in "The Guardian Weekend", 13 August Every bucket counts Once day, having learned that the King of Fez was hunting lions in the neighbourhood, they decided to invite him and his court, and killed a number of sheep in his honour.
The sovereign had dinner and went to bed. Wishing to show their generosity, they placed a huge goatskin bottle before his door and agreed to fill it up with milk for the royal breakfast. The villagers all had to milk their goats and then each of them had to tip his bucket into the container.
Given its great size, each of them said to himself that he might just as well dilute his milk with a good quantity of water without anyone noticing. To the extent that, in the morning, such a thin liquid was poured out for the king and his court that it had no taste than the taste of meanness and greed. One frog was fat and the other skinny. One day, while searching for food, they inadvertently jumped into a vat of milk.
They couldn't get out, as the sides were too slippery, so they were just swimming around. The fat frog said to the skinny frog, "Brother frog, there's no use paddling any longer. We're just going to drown, so we might as well give up. Somebody will get us out. After a while, the fat frog said, "Brother frog, there's no use. I'm becoming very tired now. I'm just going to stop paddling and drown. It's Sunday and nobody's working. There's no possible way out of here.
Something will happen, keep paddling. The fat frog said, "I can't go on any longer. There's no sense in doing it because we're going to drown anyway. And he drowned in the milk. But the skinny frog kept on paddling. Ten minutes later, the skinny frog felt something solid beneath his feet.
He had churned the milk into butter and he hopped out of the vat. He was in the news because of his most recent catalogue of cake designs; Klaschka is a pastry specialist. Of course, Austrian pastries are famous the world over.
Herr Klaschka insists he is not a Nazi. There is a market in Austria in for cakes with babies raising their arms in Nazi salutes, cakes with swastikas on them? There are parties where people serve such cakes?