Best 9447 quotes in «romance quotes» category

We have more faith in a well-written romance while we are reading it than in common history. The vividness of the representations in the one case more than counterbalances the mere knowledge of the truth of facts in the other.

We might possess every technological resource... but if our language is inadequate, our vision remains formless, our thinking and feeling are still running in the old cycles, our process may be 'revolutionary' but not transformative.

We [My Chemical Romance] didn't push ourselves to that next level. I think we purposefully held ourselves back, feeling like maybe in order to advance, we need to regress. There was definitely a sense of fear within the band about taking that next step.

We think of the romance novel as a lesser form of literature, but I don't think that's true. Love is a very important aspect of human life and worth exploring.

what a luxury it was for people to hold their loved ones whenever they wanted

We thought we were running away from the grownups, and now we are the grownups.

We travel for romance, we travel for architecture, and we travel to be lost.

When a writer calls his work a Romance, it need hardly be observed that he wishes to claim a certain latitude, both as to its fashion and material, which he would not have felt himself entitled to assume had he professed to be writing a Novel.

What I want is to talk about how someone raised Muslim struggles with the same stuff that everyone else theoretically could. Obviously, the particulars are different, but everybody can sympathize with being forced to answer for their identity, the colour of their skin or their religion. A lot of people struggle with mental illness or romance or failed marriages - these are all parts of my own struggle. I read them through the lens of Islam because that's the particular language I grew up in, but the grammar is universal.

What we need to know about loving is no great mystery. We all know what constitutes loving behavior; we need but act upon it, not continually question it. Over-analysis often confuses the issue and in the end brings us no closer to insight. We sometimes become too busy classifying, separating, and examining, to remember that love is easy. It's we who make it complicated.

When I have my students do erasures, I'm always amazed by the way their voice comes through, whether they're doing an erasure of a romance novel or an encyclopedia. Your sensibility will out.

When I did find guys with whom I was very sexually compatible, trying to figure out how romance worked... when you're a gay guy you don't necessarily have that same push to make a conventional relationship work.

When I was young, I liked romance. But to me, romance is the opposite of domestic life. I just don't want anyone in the apartment, not for longer than a few hours.

When I was growing up, I always read horror books, while my sister read romance novels.

When your parents split up, it's impossible to delude yourself about fairytale romance and happy endings.

When one makes sculptures of horses, one remembers all of that great relationship that humans had with them.....Even today one raises horses only for dressage, the races, for the pleasure of horseback riding. It has become an animal of romance, an animal of pleasure which has lost its utility in the West.

When you initiate romance in your marriage relationship, you communicate to your spouse that he or she is desirable to you.

When you're kissing on camera, it becomes an issue visually. It looks like a skinny dinosaur creature is trying to kiss someone. It doesn't look good. It does not look like the classic romance kisses. If an actress is 5'3" and I don't bend down to kiss her, she would probably be kissing my lower sternum.

When you're young, everything seems like a romance. At 96, I can still feel romantic about publishing young unknown writers.

Where love is concerned, too much is not even enough.

Wine has lit up for me the pages of literature, and revealed in life romance lurking in the commonplace.

Whether they yield or refuse, it delights women to have been asked.

Why don't the Beatles get back together? Why don't nobody sing of romance?

Wine has been to me a firm friend and a wise counsellor. Wine has lit up for me the pages of literature, and revealed in life romance lurking in the commonplace. Wine has made me bold, but not foolish; has induced me to say silly things, but not do them. If such small indiscretions standing in the debit column of wine's account were added up, they would amount to nothing in comparison with the vast accumulation on the credit side.

Wine, like food, is so emotional. If you think about it, so much of the courting ritual is surrounded by wine and food. There's a built-in romance to wine.

Wine is so much more than a beverage. It's a romance, a story, a drama-all of those things that are basically putting on a show.

You are mine, woman, and I am yours. Until you, my life was desolate. I existed, but I didn't truly live. Now I live, even in my death.

Yeah, but there's nobody who represents romance to me like Cary Grant.

You are my glue. Without you, I'd be nothing but broken pieces.

Without Steve Jobs, you would have well-designed computers, probably open and not integrated, but they wouldn't have sex appeal, they wouldn't have romance.

Women are my drugs and alcohol. When I'm involved with one woman, I'm involved with one woman. Period. But between romances, I am carnivorous.

You are my sunrise. Your smile lights up my world. I could give anything just to see you happy. True love is not in getting things from others but in giving and sharing more and more.

You need not attempt to shake off or to banter off Romance. It is an evil you will never get rid of to the end of your days. It is a part of yourself ... of your soul. Age will only mellow it a little, and give it a holier tone.

You make me want to be a better man.

You changed my life. You changed my ways. I don't even recognize myself these days. It must be a reflection of you, only you.

You may very well ask what the goddess of love is doing in St. Andrews, writing trashy romances. Adapting.

You should really stay true to your own style. When I first started writing, everybody said to me, 'Your style just isn't right because you don't use the really flowery language that romances have.' My romances - compared to what's out there - are very strange, very odd, very different. And I think that's one of the reasons they're selling.

You say one more thing that sounds like it's ripped from the pages of a really bad gothic romance and I'm out of here, are we clear?" - Valkyrie Cain

Youth cannot imagine romance apart from youth.

You walk into my bedroom at night, it looks like a nightclub. There's all kinds of lighting effects, there's all kinds of music. I want them to feel like they're in for a show. I believe in romance.

4th prince, Life is like a dream, continuously changing…But the days pass soundlessly…It’s hard to forget one’s foolish longings. When someone told me very calmly that he wanted the throne, he already held the key to my heart. When he threw away the umbrella and endured and suffered the rain with me, I had opened the door to my heart for him. When he protected me by using his own body to block the arrow, I would never forget him in this life. Everything that happened after that only drew me in deeper…If there is love, there is anger. If there is love, there is hate. If there is love, there is obsession. If there is love, there is longing. Since we parted, there has been nothing but hate, anger, and longing transforming into inches of memories. I don’t know if you still resent me… …in Ruo Xi’s heart, there is no emperor, only the 4th Prince who has stolen my soul. We love, we miss, we don’t meet…Everyday, I wait for your arrival... -Ruo Xi

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.

A ball feels different off every player's racket-there are minute but concrete subtleties of force and spin. Now, hitting with her (Steffi Graf), I feel her subtleties. It's like touching her, though we're forty feet apart. Every forehand is foreplay.

A beautiful body perishes, but a work of art dies not.” ~ Leonardo da Vinci

A bedroom is not necessary for me to demonstrate my womanliness!

A bed that can no longer fit two egos can only fit two sorrows and a separation.

Abominations. He did not say the last word aloud, but she felt something like pain echo through him, pity. “You sound like you know a lot about this kind of thing?” “You could say I have first hand experience.” Valdagerion was looking up at the tanks a dark twisted pain in his eyes. The expression made her heart pound with alarm. The alien was wounded, the kind of deep physiological wounds that could make a person very dangerous.

A bout of nerves crept up my spine and I tilted my head at him, hoping I was imagining the heat spreading over my cheeks to spare myself the embarrassment of blushing merely because he was piercing me with those chocolate eyes that I had never noticed were so amazing. “What are you staring at?” “Can I take you to prom?” He asked me. Just like that, no hesitation or insecurity to be found in his tone or facial expression. His confidence caught me completely off guard and I gaped at him in a stunned silence for almost twenty full seconds. His expression never faltered, though. He just watched my mouth work to make some sort of intelligible sound, waiting for my answer as he oozes at least the illusion of complete calm. “Huh?” I blurted in an embarrassingly high-pitched squeak. I sounded like a chipmunk and his smirk made me turn a deep shade of red. “Um… Uh… Prom?” I managed, eloquent as ever. He laughed at me fondly, nodding his head. “Yeah, prom.” Shock was not a deep enough word to describe what I was feeling over this proposal. This was Jim, the kid who swore up and down he would rather gouge out his eyes with a grapefruit spoon than put on dress clothes and he was offering to take me to a place where flannel shirts and ratty jeans were unacceptable and dance me around a room in uncomfortable shoes all night long? This couldn’t be real life. But it was real life. I was sitting in the car with him with my mouth hanging open like a fish waiting for him to laugh and tell me he was kidding, that there was no way he was going to put on a tie for my benefit, and he was sitting right there, a slightly nervous look crossing his features over my dumbstruck expression. Breathe, Lizzie, I scolded myself. Answer him! Say yes! You could have knocked me over with a feather and I was very relieved to be sitting down in a car so I could prevent anything humiliating from happening. Having already proved I could not trust my voice to answer him I jerkily nodded my head as my mouth grew into a Cheshire cat sized smile. I turned my face away and hid behind my hair as if I could hide my excitement from the world. Jim was visibly euphoric and that only made me want to squeal even more. He was excited to take me out. How cool was that?

Abril é o mês mais cruel, gera lilases da terra morta, mistura a memória e o desejo, mistura raízes dormentes com chuva de Primavera.

absence looks like a lake bed flooded with sky sounds like cotton howling tastes like tear-stained pillows smells like churning bile and burnt hair feels like screaming agony, my heart dying and dying