Romance Quotes - Page 25

…he grabbed my hand again. That same warmth hit me, seeping into my skin. I bit my lip and forced myself not to relish in the tingling heat. Samuel’s eyes widened. Fangs erupted from his gums. His nostrils flared as he inhaled me.

When a man falls in love, he sees the beloved in an idealized vision which to the rest of the world seems unjustified by the facts of the woman's character and appearance. The lover feels towards his beloved, thus idealized, a rapture of devotion, which seems to blend humility with exultation, self-giving with grateful receiving, in a joyful interchange of laughter and courtesy. What is the real significance of this vision and the mutual relationship which can emerge from it? [Charles] Williams tells us that the lover sees his beloved as all men would see one another, and all things, had not man fallen from his state of original innocence. He sees his beloved as all men ought to see their fellow-men 'in God'. The relationship between lover and beloved which emerges is (at its best) the relationship of joyful giving and receiving which ought to join all men together. Already such relationships exist among the perfected in Heaven. And the archetype of such perfected relationships is the coherence of the Three Persons of the Trinity.

You’re not worried about being compromised, are you?” he asked. “Because I’ve already done that.

I resented you for inserting yourself so fully into my life, and then one day I realized I couldn't imagine my life without you...

Now they are empty, Ramon replied with a shrug of broad, muscled shoulders on his six-foot-three-inch frame....For the first time, a glint of humor touched Ramon Galverra's finely sculpted mouth and arrogant dark eyes.

Jenny: You didn't leave?Gareth: Of course I left. I was hungry, and I couldn't find anything to eat. I bought a loaf and some cheese. And oranges. Wait. You mean you thought I had left. Without saying a word to you. Would I do that?(Jenny nodded)Gareth: Damn it. You know better than most I'm no good at these things but even I am not that bad. Really, Jenny. Why would you believe such a thing of me?Jenny: I don't know, Maybe because you once told me all you wanted from me was a good shag?Gareth: I said that? (he looked surprised, then contemplative. Then apparently, he remembered and winced) God. I said that? Why did you even touch me?

He’s close enough now that I can hear his footfall on the pavement, and I knowmy chances of outrunning him are slim. I’m practically in a full sprint, and my pounding heart is begging me to take it down a notch. I try to will my feet to keep pace with its beat; but I think it’s humanly impossible to run that fast. And then it dawns on me that my footsteps are the only ones I hear. Somewhere along the way, Tristan’s must have come to a stop. And I can’t quite explain why I’m running this fast in the first place. I slow to a jog, intending to just pick up with my original pace; but I can’t seem to suck in breaths fast enough to propel my feet any further. My molten shoes stutter to a stop, as my hands come to rest on my knees. I’m stillwheezily sucking in breath after breath of thick, humid air, when I warily turn to look over my shoulder.Tristan’s standing about fifty feet back, hands on his hips and a comp

I didn't come up with the lie. It wasn't mine. They handed the lie to me, and I tried like hell to make it work for a while.

Sexual intimacy is not the destination, it is the path - the path that leads to mental union.

He's reading a book called Great Warlocks of the 18th Century, and to get this ball rolling before Dean Devlin shows up and rains on our private parade, I snort and ask, "Good book?"I forget I'm pretending to be sitting behind my two-thousand-ninety-eight-page Highlights of Modern Chemistry book, so he snorts back. "Better than yours.

Have you ever asked yourself this question "what can God do through me?" The preacher has no platform if the people has no sense of mission.

I'm not blaming you," he stated firmly. "I'm just trying to think. God, Kate, there are times when I think you hate me. When I think you would do anything to get rid of me. And then... then there's last night. And all of the other times like it. I have never been more alive than when I'm with you.

I'm sorry," I heard him say again. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a sudden blur of movement as he slid out of his seat, left some bills for the breakfast he wouldn't eat, and walked away. And as he did, I thought again of those mornings in the hallway at school, way back in ninth grade. Everything had started in such sharp detail, each aspect pronounced and clear. Obviously, endings were different. Harder to see, full of shapes that could be one thing or another, with all the things that you were once so sure of suddenly not familiar, if they were even recognizable at all.

Of course. If you're not afraid of kissing someone, they're not worth kissing.

Our hearts have already been broken. Maybe I can help to heal hers, even if it means ripping mine to shreds when she leaves and I have to say good-bye.

What would your young students say, who have come so far to hear you and prefer your severe lectures to ease of a worldly life, if they should discover you secretly a slave to your passions and a victim of those weaknesses from which your rules secured them?

... in spite of being happier than I ever dreamed I could be, I'm also soberer. The fear that something may happen to you rests like a shadow on my heart. Always before I could be frivolous and carefree and unconcerned, because I had nothing precious to lose. But now -- I shall have a Great Big Worry all the rest of my life. Whenever you are away from me I shall be thinking of all the automobiles that can run over you, or the signboards that can fall on your head or the dreadful, squirmy germs that you may be swallowing.

Rose looked down to the sheet of paper, saw a number and where to sign. Butch was holding out a pen for her to take. When she reached for the pen her fingers grazed lightly against his. She felt it. She saw it. The tiniest arc of electricity. It was as if flint and steel met, just waiting for the right moment to spark the dry tinder into a burning inferno.

When you do away with God you become your own god, because you recognise no greater power in the universe than yourself.

I wrote this about you, about our love, our story. And I feel so damn lucky that others in this world, strangers in other parts, can steal a piece of what we have and feel so lucky too.

Now I get why I'm incapable of flirting for I can't Lie!

Even before we met and long after we're both gone, my heart lives inside of yours. I'm forever and ever in love with you.

I want him to love me as much as I love him.

Later she would think about how he'd snuck up on her so silently. The man was on crutches - what was he, a ninja or something?

Ranger locked eyes with me. "Please," he said.Tank and Hal were goggle-eyed. They weren't used to "please." I wasn't used to it either. But I liked it. Okay," I said. "Be careful. He's insane.

When you healed this tree, I felt like the leaves waved and made gentle sounds. Maybe the tree was saying thank you.

I can't be yours forever, Mab," I told her, the words flying into my mouth as if by magic. "I already belong to someone else. I belong to Alice!

A mysterious ability, a broken promise, a life changed forever...

How many more times would I have embraced him that night, how many more times would I have kissed him, if I had known the name of that stranger lover who was already in Montreal, who had already bought his stadium ticket from a scalper for the 5,000 tomorrow. That implacable lover who was going to turn Billy's eyes away from me forever.

Every time I had things straight in my head abouthim, I saw him smile or crook an eyebrow, and all my sensible reasons on why I couldn’t have feelings for him seemed redundant.

Leo was a force of nature. He lived life big and loud in all respects…which meant that when he got riled up, everyone was sucked into the vortex along with him. His temper was legendary, but then again, so were his passions. He was charming and charismatic, brilliant and quick. He loved to argue, loved to box and work out, loved to laugh, loved to…love. And from the day they’d met, he’d swept her up into his whirlwind sphere, and she felt like she hadn’t been allowed a second to breathe since. Not that she’d minded, not while it had all still been safe and contained. She’d delighted in his passions…all of them. But everything was different now.

Some men are like that - they get a woman in their mind, and that's that. They will destroy themselves and everyone else over her; they will let everything else fall apart.

I’d stumbled upon the inner sanctuary of a woman who loved the world. Loved the faces of people she saw. Loved the way a hand looked when it was relaxed. Loved the way a woman looked when she touched her own face. The way a man looked when he opened himself to her. Loved the way wind changed a tree or a field or a child’s hair. The beauty of a neck meeting a shoulder. The softness of a smile that wasn’t forced.

The older lady smiled a friendly welcome that rivaled her preserves for sweet appeal. She could have been someone’s grandmother complete with close-cropped white hair if she wasn’t wearing a worn Grateful Dead T-shirt over a long-sleeved thermal. The 1987 Summer Tour.

Old Woman Nora of Loch LomondTo her three wee Grandaughters one cold night.

I really don't know how he does it. How he can take any situation and seduce its pants off. It's a talent really.

He took in the bubbles covering her and smiled. "I think that's enough.""Enough?""To get me clean." Taking one step forward, he slipped and slided up and down the length of her body.

You may not mean to, but you do seem to look down your nose at many of us mere mortals muddling along down here. I feel as though you think everyone should be better than they are. I certainly think you expect me to behave like some sort of perfect princess. But I’m just an ordinary girl who wants to grow up and find out where I belong in the world.

Falling in love is the most beautiful wonder.

All the labour of man is for his mouth, and yet the appetite is not filled.

He is the one pocket of warmth in a sea of ice.

All I could think about was the heat of his soft lips, the way they fitted so wonderfully as I was coaxing him to open them some more, just enough to let my tongue slip in and taste him. I needed a taste, needed to complete this fantasy of mine.

He was wearing a gleaming cream-coloured linen suit, and a Panama hat. The weirdest thing about this was that he was not the most outlandish-looking person in the room by a long way. Not that Little Miss Dresses-Like-Bogart over here has a right to complain

Give her books, where other people did all the running around and courting; it was far easier to read about such matters than to experience them herself.

We think of ourselves as failures, rather than renounce our belief in the possibility of perfection. We hang on to the hope of eternal love by denying even its temporary validity. It´s less painful to think 'I'm shallow', 'She's self centred', 'We couldn't communicate', 'It was all just physical', than to accept the simple fact that love is a passing sensation, for reasons beyond our control and even beyond our personalities. But who can reassure himself with his own rationalizations? No argument can fill the void of a dead feeling -- that reminder of the ultimate void, our final inconstancy. We're untrue even to life.

You’re wasted on the occasional bout of missionary sex with a disinterested man.

Never stop believing that your dreams are eternal.

He pulled my head back further, and I could hear his ragged breathing as his mouth came close to my ear, sounding so desperate for me. God, I was turned on so much…

Oh, Lord, why was she doomed to adore a man steeped in blindness and utter stupidity?

You didn’t just accidentally win my favor,” I dispute, slowly shaking myforehead against his. “You earned it. Now, if I can just save your life twenty or thirty more times…We might actually be able to call it even.

I’m here for as long as you want me.”“What if that’s forever?” He asked.“Then I’m the luckiest girl in the world.

Cam knew that if she succeeded, it was going to destroy her, but she could worry about that later. All she had to do at the moment was cut her own heart out without letting the wound show too much; she'd have plenty of time to bleed after Alex had gone.

She knew all about love—that beautiful, exquisitely painful but precious journey.

She threw up her hands. "All right. Why not?" Why not?" Sure." His arms fell to his sides. "That's it? I pour my heart out. I love you so much I've got freakin' tears in my eyes. And all I get in return is 'Why not'?" What did you expect? Am I supposed to fall all over you just because you've finally come to your senses?" Would it be too much to ask?"...He'd begun to glare at her again, his eyes growing stormier by the minute."When do you think you might be ready? To fall all over me, that is.

Weave the circle, tightly sewn,Let nothing evil or unknownEnter within. Stay withoutOn pain of death, we cast you out.

True heroes and ideas never fall in the final sense of the word. They can only encounter temporary setbacks in their difficult journey to progress and success,

Love when you can, and fight when you must, but stand together and never give up, not to the enemy, and not on each other.

Get your sticky fingers away from my cookies,” Ben ordered, without turning his head, to see Jaxton trying to steal one from the cooking tray.“You weren't saying that last night,” Jaxton retaliated, coming up to Ben's side, to give him a nudge. They were both smiling, while looking down at the counter, where Ben was making his delicious rosemary cookies. “In fact, I seem to remember you grabbing my sticky fingers and putting them in your mouth,” he teased, speaking quietly, so that Lyon wouldn't hear them at the other side of the room.Ben turned to Jaxton and abandoned his baking, to catch his face in flour covered hands and plant a deep kiss on his lips.Jaxton opened his mouth, in acceptance of his kiss.~ From the Heart

The problem with romance is the occlusion. The tunnel vision, drawing your every gaze downstream, into those other eyes, the flotsam of your better self, your clearer self, along for the ride. It doesn't matter what secrets swirl and bob in the waters beneath you, as you float toward that lady at Delphi, who, you imagined, reading Mythology, must have been beautiful. It doesn't matter that Charybdis, with no body, with no form, with only a mouth-as-being, couldn't have been evil, because she lacked the brain for it. It doesn't matter that following the logical course of events, the natural course, always disadvantages someone else, because love, after all, is simply a competition for resources, made infinitely complex and unknowable when squared and cubed and raised to every other emotional exponent - and then layered with sex and society and a bad memory for what those resources were in the first place.

Sex or sleep? What will it be, Lila?