Romance Quotes - Page 13

Any time not spent on love is wasted.

Their beauty had always seemed to him like the beauty of pressed flowers - lovely, but dead.

This is how life works. Deciding whom to love is not an alien form of decision-making, a romantic interlude in the midst of normal life. Instead, decisions about whom to love are more intense versions of the sorts of decisions we make throughout the course of our existence, from what kind of gelato to order to what career to pursue. Living is an inherently emotional business.

It's unnerving how you fit in the basin of my thighs.

But I did feel the vertigo of death’s invitation, beckoning me towards the dark waters below. Only a newfound perspective and desire steadied my wavering soul. I came to realize, just in time, that suicide was far too easy – and obscenely cowardly – after someone I knew, not even half my age, had been through so much worse and still marched gloriously on.

I'll never love you anymore than I do, right this second. And I'll never love you any less than Ido, right this second.

You are more beautiful at first light then most girls are dressed and glamorous." Dana Christy

Lucy: I don't understand men.Nettie: What is there to understand? If you feed 'em regular-like and give 'em a bit of 'sugar' now and then, they're easy enough. And if they don't behave, you just toss 'em out on their arses. That's what I always say.

Imagine how wild a night like this could be if you enjoyed the time spent and enjoyed the mind of the person beneath your sheets?

Isabelle - "She laughed out loud, not able to recognize her own voice. She found her situation suddenly hilarious. She laughed and laughed at the door. Just a simple, silly, stupid door had her trapped. And now the ones that had been closed so long within her mind began to open. She closed her eyes and walked through one.

It’s as if our bodies know the secret that we don’t wish to admit yet.

I have a history of making decisions very quickly about men. I have always fallen in love fast and without measuring risks. I have a tendency not only to see the best in everyone, but to assume that everyone is emotionally capable of reaching his highest potential. I have fallen in love more times than I care to count with the highest potential of a man, rather than with the man himself, and I have hung on to the relationship for a long time (sometimes far too long) waiting for the man to ascend to his own greatness. Many times in romance I have been a victim of my own optimism.

Let’s talk about mankind’s most adored emotion – Love. However, love itself is not a single emotion, rather a blend of many. It is such an enchanting sensation, that it has been inspiring artists, scientists, philosophers and thinkers for ages. Albert Einstein said, “any man who can drive safely while kissing a pretty girl is simply not giving the kiss the attention it deserves”. Geniuses around the world came up with various creations under the spell of love. Schrodinger’s Wave Equation, Hawking’s Hawking Radiation, Tagore’s songs, Rumi’s poems, are just a few among the plethora of scientific and philosophical literature created under the enigmatic and warm influence of love. So, technically it is totally worth being crazy in love.

Now that I've found you, it scares me witless to think of anything happening. To you. I'm not used to being... afraid." A sudden realization came to her, "So this is love," she said quietly. "The daily prospect of joy or disaster

The Challenge is to pry Bertie loose from Dain and his circle of oafish dengenerates,” Jessica said severely. “It would be far more profitable to pry Dain loose for yourself,” said her grandmother. “He is very wealthy, his lineage is excellent, he is young, strong, and healthy, and you feel a powerful attraction.” “He isn’t husband material.” “What I have described is perfect husband material.” said her grandmother. “I don’t want a husband.” “Jessica, no woman does who can regard men objectively. And you have always been magnificently objective.

Syldor was not a land of oppressive rules, roles, and labels. Here, love and power were open to, for, and between all; woman or man, rich or poor. What mattered was the sharpness of your mind, the speed of your blade, and the heat of your touch.

Inside Ms. Maddox's classroom, it was so quiet you could hear the breathing bounce off the walls.

No matter how many rules we make for ourselves, rules don't create godly relationships. Only leaning on our faithful Father and longing to please Him with everything we do will set the stage for a beautiful romance!

He gazed into eyes the color of a summer morning sky and sighed. It felt as if his soul had just come home.

Pick a sunset, and we'll ride off into it together.

I would rather a romantic relationship turn into contempt than turn into apathy. The passion in the extremities make it appear as though it once meant something. We grow from hot or cold, but lukewarm is the biggest insult.

My past still haunts me when I sleep, although I saw that - much to my surprise- his does as well.

My inner goddess confirms that staring at a beautiful/rich/powerful face is the basis of True Love.

I’d like to say I’m not dressed up for anyone in particular, but that would be a lie.

Balls to ten minutes.

A leprechaun did not just kill off my car in a hailstorm.

In the past year I’ve learned that love can make you do crazy, silly, stupid, ridiculous things. And the fact that one person can make you feel this way and do those things is amazing to me.

When two people fall in love, they not only give up their genuine authority over their own lives, but also, they become mutual authorities of the collective life that they build together.

I write to raise the curtain on life's endless possibilities. Because you asked, "Pourquoi?

Reality runs the risk of spoiling things, don't you think? The fantasy is often better. That's where the soul is fulfilled. Reality struggles to fulfil the soul, that's why we're often so unhappy. But fantasy is the world of the soul...

What is more natural than that a solidity, a complicity, a bond should be established between Reader and Reader, thanks to the book? You can leave the bookshop content, you, a man who thought that the period where you could still expect something from life had ended. You are bearing with you two different expectations, and both promise days of pleasant hopes; the expectation contained in the book - of a reading experience you are impatient to resume - and the expectation contained in that telephone number - of hearing again the vibrations, a times treble and at times smoldering, of that voice, when it will answer your first phone call in a while, in fact tomorrow, with the fragile pretext of the book, to ask her if she likes it or not, to tell her how many pages you have read or not read, to suggest to her that you meet again...

A zing travels up my arm from the contact. My nostrils flare, and I catch a whiff of her female scent. She may not wear perfume, but there’s a bewitching essence to her that ensnares my senses.

Florence, listen to me carefully. He squeezed her hand. Take whatever that agent offers you. Give him what he wants, and don’t ask too many questions. Get yourself an exit visa as soon as you can. Then leave! Disappear. Forget this wretched place

You had to be willing to fight in order for a love story to last a life time.

It was so odd what brought out tenderness in people. It was never what you have expected.

Making-out is one thing that won’t change even if civilization fizzles and humanity is reduced to two people. So each time Jack and I kiss, it’s as if we’re flipping off the jerks who destroyed our planet, as if we’re screaming at the top of our lungs… We know your secret.And we won’t be made invisible.

They say marry the person with whom you are the closest to, the guy with whom you can share your 3 am thoughts with, sitting on a rooftop and discussing random things like why cavemen were hirsute or why the earth isn’t a square. The genie who knows what you want before you open your mouth. The angel who reads your mind before you can articulate your thoughts. The friend you can laugh and cry with. The brother whose arms are safer than any amount of security and protection the outside world can provide you. The parent that will support you through thick and thin, no matter what. The soul whose love for them in the river of your heart will never dilute, even when the currents get rough, and the waters, dark. The fellow who would tell you that he loves you every night and spend the day proving it through little gestures that speak much louder than any words of love. The person with whom you can hold hands when you turn eighty and announce to the world- ‘we made it!

Semua orang pernah patah hati. All you have to do is move on.

CRUEL HARVEST by Fran Elizabeth Grubb is a compelling, riveting, unforgetable memoir that will keep you turning the pages. Published by Thomas Nelson and due for release August 2012. Kidnapped from an orphanage Frances is dragged across the country working in the fields. Youtubefrangrubb to see video book trailer.

94 was a good year to be twelve. Star Wars still had two more years as Box Office King, cartoons were still hand-drawn, and the Disney "D" still looked like a backwards "G." Words like "Columbine," "Al Qaeda" and "Y2K" were not synonymous with "terror," and 9-1-1 was an emergency number instead of a date. At twelve years old, summer still mattered. Monarch caterpillars still crawled beneath every milkweed leaf. Dandelions (or "wishes" as Mara called them) were flowers instead of pests. And divorce was still considered a tragedy. Before Mara, carnivals didn't make me sick.

I came from Thailand for you, because Mia said she could probably get you here. I'd have come from Zimbabwe, Outer Mongolia, or a prison in Central America. In truth, I came through hell getting here....because for me that's anywhere you're not.

Jaxon snorted in disbelief. He cupped his sac just to make sure his balls and dick were still there. If he hadn’t been so content in his life he would’ve thought he was growing a vagina.

I opened the window to let some fresh air into the room and was surprised to see that the rain was not just falling, but that it formed an actual wall of water, as if the whole sky were falling. While I was staring at the strange phenomenon, the form of an angel began to appear before me… It was Matariel, the Angel of Rain, whom I had not seen since my descent and who on this occasion appeared in a shiny, blue-grey form. She was only an arm’s length away and stared straight at me. She looked like a young woman floating on enormous wings -not a single drop of rain touched her. The smell of the cool rain swept the room as Matariel began talking to me. She never once moved her lips, but her every word was clearly audible in my head.

I found the only place I ever wanted to live again in this girl, right her in my arms. I leaned back just barely, ran my thumb from her brow o the tip of her nose and stopped at her lips, loving the way her eyes fluttered. “I’ll always come to you.

And if you want to scream her name out when my cock is fucking you, you scream it, right into my ear.

I would rather be destroyed by you than loved by anyone else.

I'm not too heavy?" she asked. He had just come off crutches, after all.Sophie, you're practically a midget," he reminded her.

El sabor metálico de su propia sangre le invadió la boca sin previo aviso. Sus colmillos habían crecido y le lastimaban el labio inferior. No sentía dolor, sino sed. Una sed que ella no comprendía, que no llegaría a entender nunca. Le quemaba la garganta. Le secaba la boca. A pesar de no ser un vampiro, Grimm tenía sed de ella desde que había probado su sangre. Unas gotas habían sido suficientes para condenarlo de por vida. Para atarlo a un deseo de exquisita y prohibida destrucción.

After a while I noticed that the pendant heart-shaped I wore around my neck, as every angel does, had begun to pulsate with blue light. I knew that this was thanks to Raphael and that he was sending healing energy for Joshua. I took my necklace off and gently put it round his neck so as not to wake him. The blue light grew stronger and started to flicker – then, drawing circles on the sick boy’s skin, it vanished around the level of his heart chakras. As blue light pervaded his entire body from head to toe, I could feel his burning skin slowly cool and his breathing became even.

Sometimes we want God to use us to do big things when we would not even want to do the basics.

You don't have to feel grateful in order to be grateful.

I’m in love with fiction. A fantasy that slips between my fingers when reality sets in.

This was home. This was perfection. This was everything he'd never known he wanted. (Griff)

Bare essentials. Like packing for paradise when you know you’re boarding the barge to hell.

Helen looked up at Paris, her face wet with tears and blotchy with grief, and nodded her consent. 'Together we are chained on rocks before the beast of Poseidon. Naked and bare and helpless.''But we are more fortunate.''How so?' Helen asked.'We have each other as comfort in our misery.

I swear I won't touch you even with a finger until you ask me yourself.

He hadn’t struck her as particularly religious unless she counted the number of times he’d called out to Jesus when he’d been deep inside her.

… Looking at her, I think I know better what romantic love is.”… she asked, “What is it?”“It is parental love,” he answered thoughtfully. “Wanting to protect and keep the other person safe. As well as the love of friendship - esteeming the other person, even desiring each other’s company beyond all others. And it is lust,” he said, meeting her eyes, and was rewarded with seeing them darken, her breath becoming slightly unsteady, one little word jerking her out of her clinical assessment. He smiled, a predatory, seductive grin. “The physical needing of the other person, the quickened pulse, the sweaty heat.” His hand, which still rested on hers, began slowly moving, his fingers dancing over her skin. “Combining them makes the result greater than its individual parts. Because it produces something else. It creates … a steadiness. A strength. I can’t explain it well - being only an outside observer - but I only know that out of my friends' relationships, my sister‘s marriage is the epitome of grace.

The heart is an arrow. It demands aim to land true.

Ugh. You’re being . . . you.”“Was that in English?”“This is all your fault.”“Nope. Definitely not English.”“You’re being all hot and sexy, dammit,” she said. She banged her head on his chest a few times. “And I can’t seem to . . . not notice said hotness and sexiness.