Best 181 quotes of E. L. James on MyQuotes

All a writer wants is to be read, and people are so flattering and lovely. I mean, there are witches out there as well. But most are so kind.

Any relationship that you have is about negotiation - anything - whether there is a written contract or not.

Don't get your panties in such a twist... and give me back mine.

I cannot be with someone who takes pleasure in inflicting pain on me, someone who can't love me

I do not look at the world in terms of black and white - and I find people who do rather scary. I think it's all shades of grey.

I don't think [Fifty Shades of Grey is] a model for anything. Except maybe in bed.

If you've been married for 400 years, as I have, it's nice to experience first love again and you can vicariously through a book.

I'm looking forward to getting back to my house and my Ugg boots and not washing sometimes, and getting back to writing.

I really like clever men who challenge you.

I think virgins are far more interesting to write about. If we've been around the block a few times, we know what to expect. Not so with virgins.

I think women love to read love stories.

It's the fantasy of first love. If you've been married for 400 years, as I have, it's nice to experience first love again and you can vicariously through a book. And it is such a fantasy. It takes you away from doing the dishes and the laundry. I think of this as a contemporary romance rather than erotic fiction.

I've set the bar quite high in terms of storytelling.

Language evolves and moves on. It is an organic thing. It is not stuck in an ivory tower, hung with expensive works of art.

Men aren't really complicated. They are very simple, literal creatures. They usually mean what they say. And we spend hours trying to analyze what they've said, when really it's obvious.

Never trust a man who can dance.

Once you're in charge of your job, your house, your children, getting the food on the table, doing all of this, all of the time, it'd be nice for someone else to be in charge for a bit maybe.

People are talking about sex. They're talking about sex with their husbands. They're talking about sex with their girlfriends. They're talking about sex with their partners. And because of all of this communication, women are having much more intimate relationships, which is fantastic.

Sometimes I wonder if there's something wrong with me. Perhaps I've spent too long in the company of my literary romantic heroes, and consequently my ideals and expectations are far too high.

So you've just slept with him, given him your virginity, a man who doesn't love you. In fact, he has odd ideas about you, wants to make you some sort of kinky sex slave.

The best person to write for is yourself—and what better place to start than in a journal.

The candle flame is too hot. It flickers and dances in the over-warm breeze, a breeze that brings no respite from the heat. Soft gossamer wings flutter to and fro in the dark, sprinkling dusty scaled in the circle of light. I'm struggling to resist, but I'm drawn. And then it's to bright, and I am flying too close to the sun, dazzled by the light, fried and melting from the heat, weary in my endeavers to stay airborn. I am so warm. The heat... It's stiffling, overpowering. It wakes me.

There's a very fine line between pleasure and pain. They are two sides of the same coin, one not existing without the other.

Women basically want the same thing - a good passionate story, a great fantasy - and for our partners to do the laundry and the washing up.

Abruptly, Elliot startles us all by standing and pulling his chair back so it scrapes across the tile floor. All eyes turn to him. He gazes down at Kate for one moment and then drops to one knee beside her. Oh. My. God. He reaches for her hand, and silence settles like a blanket over the entire restaurant as everyone stops eating, stops talking, stops walking, and stares. "My beautiful Kate, I love you. Your grace, your beauty, and your fiery spirit have no equal, and you have captured my heart. Spend your life with me. Marry me." Holy shit!

After you've taken so much trouble to set up recorder, you ask me now?

Ana, honey, you've always had a tendency to overanalyse everything. Go with your gut.

Anastasia, you're going to have to learn to be rich, too, if you say yes.' He says softly. 'Wealth isn't something I've ever aspired to, Christian.' I frown. 'I know. I love that about you. But then you've never been hungry.' He says simply.

Anatasia You Are My More My Love, My Life Christian

And now my past and my future are colliding in a way I never thought possible.

And so a pattern develops: wake, work cry. sleep. I can't even escape him in my dreams. Gray burning eyes, his lost look, his hair burnished and bright and bright all haunt me. And the music... so much music-I cannot bear to hear any music. I am careful to avoid it at all costs. Even the jingles in commercials make me shudder.

And soon you will be my wife to have and to hold... To love and to cherish... "With my body I will worship you." Christian Grey--Fifty Shades Darker, E.L.James

And the baby?" The words are anguished, breathless. "The baby's fine, Mr. Grey." "Oh, thank God." The words are litany... a prayer, "Oh, thank God.

Are you crazy?" "Crazy for you," he whispers.

Are you still mad at me?" "Yes." "I'll go back to sleep, then." "Good.

Aș fi în stare să mă târăsc pe cioburi de sticlă pentru zâmbetul tău.

Bene, nell’esame orale ti meriti un 10. Vieni, andiamo a letto, ti devo un orgasmo.

Besides, immense power is acquired by assuring yourself in your secret reveries that you were born to control things.

But we were at your parents' dining table." I stare up at him, completely bewildered. "No one's ever said no to me before. And it's so - hot.

Carla: You have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince. Anastasia: I think I’ve kissed a prince. I hope he doesn’t turn into a frog.

Christian Grey: [answers phone] Anastasia. Anastasia Steele: Yeah, this is me. I'm sending back your expensive books because I already have copies of those. Thanks though for the kind gesture. Christian Grey: You're welcome. Where are you? Anastasia Steele: Oh, I'm in line because I have to pee really bad. Christian Grey: Anastasia, have you been drinking? Anastasia Steele: [laughs] Yeah! I have, Mr. Fancy Pants. You hit... you hit the hail on the nead. I mean the head right on the nail. Christian Grey: Listen to me. I want you to go home right now. Anastasia Steele: You're so bossy! Ana, let's go for a coffee. No, stay away from me Ana! I don't want you! Get away. Come here, come here! Go away!

Coveralls," I reply, and I know I'm no longer screening what's coming out of my mouth. He raises a eyebrow, amused yet again. "You wouldn't want to ruin your clothing." I gesture vaguely in the direction of his jeans. "I could always take them off." He smirks.

Damon: I'm mad at you because I love you!

Darling, you know what they say. You have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince.” I give her a lopsided, bittersweet smile. “I think I’ve kissed a prince, Mom. I hope he doesn’t turn into a frog.

Does this mean you’re going to make love to me tonight, Christian?” Holy shit. Did I just say that? His mouth drops open slightly, but he recovers quickly. “No, Anastasia it doesn’t. Firstly, I don’t make love. I fuck… hard. Secondly, there’s a lot more paperwork to do, and thirdly, you don’t yet know what you’re in for. You could still run for the hills. Come, I want to show you my playroom.” My mouth drops open. Fuck hard! Holy shit, that sounds so… hot. But why are we looking at a playroom? I am mystified. “You want to play on your Xbox?” I ask. He laughs, loudly. “No, Anastasia, no Xbox, no Playstation. Come.”… Producing a key from his pocket, he unlocks yet another door and takes a deep breath. “You can leave anytime. The helicopter is on stand-by to take you whenever you want to go, you can stay the night and go home in the morning. It’s fine whatever you decide.” “Just open the damn door, Christian.” He opens the door and stands back to let me in. I gaze at him once more. I so want to know what’s in here. Taking a deep breath I walk in. And it feels like I’ve time-traveled back to the sixteenth century and the Spanish Inquisition. Holy fuck.

Don't cry, Ana, please," he murmurs against my mouth. "It was long ago. I am aching for you to touch me, but I just can't bear it. It's too much. Please, please don't cry.

Don’t leave me,” he whispers. “Oh, for crying out loud—no! I am not going to go!” I shout and it’s cathartic. There, I’ve said it. I am not leaving. “Really?” His eyes widen. “What can I do to make you understand I will not run? What can I say?” He gazes at me, revealing his fear and anguish again. He swallows. “There is one thing you can do.” “What?” I snap. “Marry me,” he whispers.

Don't place some vague moral judgement on yourself based on what others might think. Don't waste your energy.

Do you know what you mean to me?" he murmurs, "If something happened to you, because of me..." His voice trails off, his brow creasing, and the pain that flashes across his face is almost palpable. He looks so vulnerable - his fear very much apparent.

Do you trust me Ana?" Ana! "Yes,I do."I respond spontaneously, not thinking...because it's true-I do trust him. "Well,then"he looks relieved. "The rest of this stuff is just details" "important details