Best 9447 quotes in «romance quotes» category

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

In some cases, it is the woman’s stomach—not her heart—that has left her man for another.

Inspiration before intercourse.

Insta-love isn’t something that happens in real life. It happens in the books I read, but not in the world I live. Though here stands this beautiful, sexy, funny, sweet and amazing guy who has done everything short of professing love at first sight to me and I’m still standing here like a pair of lungs suffocating, needing him in order to breathe.

Instantly I regretted my decision. It was one of those times when you hear yourself saying something, and it seems like a good idea at the time, but once you blurt it out you can hardly believe it's you speaking. What was I thinking?

In sum, every pore of his being oozed one thing…okay, FINE. Every pore oozed two things. The first was irrelevant. The second was dangerous.

In that one moment, I wrapped a thousand others. A lifetime of joy, sorrow, laughter, frowns, smiles, tears... life!

In the beginning, being alone is always a choice. Then it's not a choice anymore. When did it stop being a choice? What is it in me that stopped choosing you, that moved into you instead so that I have to be with you in order to be with myself?

In the arc of an unremarkable life, a life whose triumphs are small and personal, whose trials are ordinary enough, as tempered in their pain as in their resolution of pain, the claim of exclusivity in love requires both a certain kind of courage and a good dose of delusion. Irish Mary, Eva's sister, would have been happy enough to accept my father's ring, I suppose, had Eva not chosen to stay in Ireland and marry Tom. My mother's first fiancé would have married her gladly if he hadn't been kept too long overseas by the Navy, if my father hadn't beaten him home, on points, a full year before. It might have been Cody or John in the car with your father, that day on Long Island. I might have been gone. Those of us who claim exclusivity in love do so with a liar's courage: there are a hundred opportunities, thousands over the years, for a sense of falsehood to seep in, for all that we imagine as inevitable to become arbitrary, for our history together to reveal itself as only a matter of chance and happenstance, nothing irrepeatable, or irreplaceable, the circumstantial mingling of just one of the so many million with just one more.

In the deepest, darkest depths of her heart where she kept all her dreams locked up in a pink journal decorated with ponies and unicorns, she’d fantasized about declaring her love for Sasha Karimi for two years. In those scenarios, he generally fell to his knees in thrilled delight before he reciprocated the feelings and then they got married and had lots of babies and maybe a pet iguana and lived happily ever after.

In the case of Michel Angelo we have an artist who with brush and chisel portrayed literally thousands of human forms; but with this peculiarity, that while scores and scores of his male figures are obviously suffused and inspired by a romantic sentiment, there is hardly one of his female figures that is so,—the latter being mostly representative of woman in her part as mother, or sufferer, or prophetess or poetess, or in old age, or in any aspect of strength or tenderness, except that which associates itself especially with romantic love. Yet the cleanliness and dignity of Michel Angelo's male figures are incontestable, and bear striking witness to that nobility of the sentiment in him, which we have already seen illustrated in his sonnets.

In the case of our fair maiden, we have overlooked two very crucial aspects to that myth. On the one hand, none of us ever really believed the sorcerer was real. We thought we could have the maiden without a fight. Honestly, most of us guys thought our biggest battle was asking her out. And second, we have not understood the tower and its relationship to her wound; the damsel is in distress. If masculinity has come under assault, femininity has been brutalized. Eve is the crown of creation, remember? She embodies the exquisite beauty and the exotic mystery of God in a way that nothing else in all creation even comes close to. And so she is the special target of the Evil One; he turns his most vicious malice against her. If he can destroy her or keep her captive, he can ruin the story.

In the distance, the mist parted and a woman slowly rose from the ground. She had creamy white skin and her hair was black as night. Her sheer gown was covered with leaves and ivy. Twigs shimmered and twisted into a high collar which looked as if they had sprouted from her shoulders. With magical grace, as if the woman floated, she made her way forward. “The winter fae queen,” Leana whispered. “What brings such tender creatures to my woods?” the queen asked.

In the dream, Tana's mother loved her more than anyone or anything. More than death.

In the end, Astrid couldn’t do anything about my . . . turning into light, but she made a prediction. She said the sun would help me and I would be cured thanks to its efforts.’ ‘The sun?’ ‘Yes. It was the symbol I drew from among the runes. Astrid says it represents . . .’ ‘What?’ he said, looking at me curiously, and I could see that he really wanted to hear the answer. I became embarrassed. ‘It’s not important . . .’ I muttered. ‘Please tell me!’ He turned fully towards me and I could feel myself blushing pink. ‘The . . . man in my life.’ I was done for. My heart was beating heavily but Elijah, for the first time since I had awoken, smiled. I was incredibly ashamed of myself, so I made to go back to the house, but the Dark Angel grabbed my wrist.

In the end, everything happens for a reason. Paths are meant to be crossed for a higher purpose than what we realize at the moment. Life for everyone goes on. This is just a fork in the road that has taken me for a slight detour. Tomorrow I’ll pick up a new map and set my sights on a new direction.

In the Mars-and-Venus-gendered universe, men want power and women want emotional attachment and connection. On this planet nobody really has the opportunity to know love since it is power and not love that is the order of the day. The privilege of power is at the heart of patriarchal thinking. Girls and boys, men and women who have been taught this way almost always believe love is not important, or if it is, it is never as important as being powerful, dominant, in control, on top-being right. Women who give seemingly selfless adoration and care to the men in their lives appear to be obsessed with 'love,' but in actuality their actions are often a covert way to hold power. Like their male counterparts, they enter relationships speaking the words of love even as their actions indicate that maintaining power and control is their primary agenda.

In their sleep, both boys kept moving closer to me, and when I finally drifted off, there was one arm wrapped around my stomach and one hand intertwined with mine.

In the late afternoon, Lily approached Ian as he reclined on the couch sketching. “I’ve got something to ask you,” she said, the tiniest waver in her voice betraying her nervousness. Ian went on high alert and placed his pad and pencil on the coffee table. “What is it, sweetheart?” he managed to get out, keeping his voice even. Lily wrung her hands. “Okay. Now, you don’t have to if you don’t want to, okay? I promise I’ll understand if you say no. Really, I will.” His shoulders slumped in relief and he rescued her hands from each other before either was damaged. “Darlin’, you needn’t be afraid to ask. I would love for you to take me to bed and spend the rest of the day making wild, passionate love to me. Tonight and tomorrow too, if that would make you happy,” Ian assured her. Lily blinked and frowned uncertainly. “Umm…tempting as that sounds, no, that’s not it.” “Need an organ donated, then? I’ve got one in mind just for you.” “This is serious.” She giggled, thumping him on the chest. “Damn right it is. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve seen you naked?” he said, raising an eyebrow in challenge. “How the hell am I supposed to get better under these horrific conditions? I may end up in therapy yet. See, look, my eye’s already starting to twitch…

In the light, our hearts only knows love.

In the morning, that moment, when I knew it was you. When I could feel you breathing and we opened our eyes at the exact same time.

In the new faith, there is only one commandment. It is this commandment, and this commandment alone, that must be followed to end the times of suffering, which are soon to come. FORSAKE USURY.

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.

In the Pretty Woman shopping scene, it’s not really about the clothes, or how much they cost, or how great she looks. When Vivian leaves the store, she’s not only a pretty woman, she’s a different woman. It gets me every time.

In the sallow afternoon, I watched her get dressed.

In the sin department, she stood side-by-side with Eric, neither one better than the other. Both cleansed, forgiven, and redeemed by the precious blood of the Lamb.

In the serenity and quiet of this lovely place, touch the depths of truth, feel the hem of Heaven. And when you leave, don't forget why you came...

In the purest sensual and intimate act of lovemaking, there is a give and take, and both partners actively choose among and agree to the expressions. In reciprocal lovemaking, a woman is equally satisfied and drives the experience just as much as her man.

In the space of a breath he had crossed the distance separating them and spun her around into a vise grip from behind. Somehow, the gun was out of her hand and in his. He locked her arms between them and raised the gun to her temple. His voice resonated low and dangerous at her ear. “Just so we’re very clear. If I want to kill you, I can kill you.

In the space between wake and sleep, where the real world juxtaposes with the imagination, that's where I live.

In the stillness, our eyes do all the silent talking. Our chests move with heavy breathing and desire pours out through our pores. It's unmistakable.

In this neighbourhood people don't venture out after dark. It's not safe for them. Only the terminally stupid and the criminally motivated come out at this hour.

In the world of today, human desires far supersede human needs. Waste, as you can see, is the result of all of those contradictions. That is how we ended up complicating our world.

In today’s world, human desires far supersede human needs. Waste, as you can see, is the result of that disparity.

In this world there are two types of people: the ones who hurt, and the ones who are hurt. But if we all claim to be the victims, then aren't we all the criminals too?

Intoxicating”— Shannon

In truth, I doubt I'd notice if a herd of giant Irish elk stomped through the entire chamber when I'm in the act of lovin' you, Lainna!

«In un tempo dimenticato» proseguì Faqr, «in un mondo che non era ancora il nostro mondo, Allah vedendo la malvagità degli uomini pianse». «E le sue lacrime si trasformarono nella lama della spada, mentre l’impugnatura venne forgiata dai primi uomini per non dimenticare il male commesso e il dolore arrecato all’Onnipotente» concluse Giahl.

In this moment there is no me, no him. Only us. One entity. One heart. One existence.

Intimacy and lovemaking—intertwined, meshed, and one becoming the other—are what I strive to achieve each time I am presented with the opportunity to enjoy a lovemaking experience.

Inutile de lui mettre entre les mains une culotte dépassant de loin la taille 32, il risquerait de confondre ça avec un filet de pêche géant.

In town, there's a tiny beach that's never busy, not even in the summer. I used to like walking there, looking for stuff. Like old fireworks. Or kelp. A hat knocked off someone's head by the wind. You basically never find what you were expecting to. And maybe you weren't expecting to find anything right from the start...

In true Bastien form—and keeping in mind that he’s only seven at the time—he yanks off his helmet, throws his backpack down, and lies on the ground, using the helmet for a pillow, and says to them, and I quote verbatim, ‘Later, bitches. I’m done for the day. Y'all can carry me home or call for a lift. Either way, I ain’t moving from here. My ass is too precious for this abuse.

Inviting God to write the chapters of our loves story involves work on our part - not just a scattered prayer here and there, not merely a feeble attempt to find some insight by flopping open the Bible every now and then. It's seeking Him on a daily basis, putting Him in first place at all times, discovering His heart.

In your voice, I will hear all my pains And with your words, I will understand them I will tell you That everything is uncertain (And so possible) And I will give you my hand (Inaccessible)

I offer my body and soul to you and Cameron till death parts us!

In your eyes I found something that shines brighter than a thousand rays of sunshine.

I passed by your place, but I didn't get in.

I opened the door and stepped in. Raw pain filled me at the sight of my painting. 'Show me what it looked like, before the fire.' His request surprised me, but I did as he asked. With eyes closed, I projected the exact details of the painting I had poured my soul into. Just as I had experienced his love of surfing in a visceral way, he shared not just the visual beauty of my work, but the love and passion with which I had dedicated myself to it. 'Thank you. Now, it will never truly be gone.' I choked back a sob and went to Mr. K's office.

I open my eyes. I want to know: what is in the abyss of a kiss? Are stars born in these black caves that house bated breaths and unspoken words? Do our souls crawl on these tender cheeks to greet one another by ivory gates? What happens when we kiss? Where do you go? Don’t tell me. For I have lost my desire to know. Kiss me so that I forget myself. I close my eyes and fall in the abyss.