Best 9447 quotes in «romance quotes» category

It wasn’t often he met someone who had her emotions so on display. Most of the women he knew were interested in more material things and kept their emotions well hidden beneath a mask of sophistication. It was refreshing to find someone who was so natural – so passionate.

It was now twenty minutes past four in the morning, allowing for the fact that the clock in the library of his town house was four minutes slow, as it had been for as far back as he could remember. He eyed it with a frown of concentration. Now that he came to think about it, he must have it set right one of these days.Why should a clock be forced to go throught its entire existence four minutes behind the rest of the world? It was not logical.The trouble was though, that if the clock were suddenly right, he would be forever confused and arriving four minutes early -- or did he mena late? -- for meals and various other appointments. That would agitate his servants and cause consternation in the kitchen. It was probably better to leave the clock as it was.

It wasn't a romance; it was too perfect for that. With texts there were only the words and none of the awkwardness. They could get to know each other completely and get comfortable before they had to do anything unnecessarily overwhelming like look at each other's eyeballs with their eyeballs.

It wasn't like he could name one single thing about them that made them stand out in his mind. They just gave off a dangerous vibe. Being with them really did feel as if he were inside a tiger's cage, surrounded by the big cats.

It wasn't like that, darlin'." [Darcy] said quickly. "I swear on my mother's soul it wasn't!" Bronte bit her lip, trying not to smile. "Your mother is still living, is she not?" Darcy grinned sheepishly. "Yes, but…just the same.

It was never just about the money.

It wasn't the first time I'd been with someone, but it was different this time. Maybe it was because when I told them I was bisexual they weren't like the girls who thought I was *really* a lesbian; they weren't like the boys who thought it was hot. Maybe it was because when they told me they were genderqueer I just said that I knew and they cried as they smiled at me. Or maybe it was just because our limbs fit together, maybe because it tasted like salt water and was the colour of sunlight through grass. Or maybe it was just all these things.

It wasn't till Sebastian began to stalk toward her that she recalled her situation. She was wet and half naked, alone in a room with a strong brutish male of unknown intentions.

It wasn’t her first kiss, but it was the first one that mattered.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t come across hot guys throughout the course of the last three years, so why was her heart racing? Why did she feel flushed?

It was, of course, a great failure in a woman's life - to never have achieved even a doomed and unsuccessful love. But she was not quite sure whether she had failed or not. When she was young there had been moments, of course. But those moments had never amounted to much more than a little fever of admiration - a little flutter and agitation in a ballroom - so slight a feeling that the cautious Dido had never considered it a secure foundation for a lifetime of living together. And then, sooner or later, she had always made and odd remark, or laughed at the wrong moment, and the young men became alarmed or angry - and the flutter and the agitation all turned to irritation. Dido could laugh and gossip about love as well as any woman but, deep down, she suspected that she had not the knack of falling into it.

It was the calm before the storm, and holy crap, my bones knew it was going to be the storm of my life.

It was one of those disappointments that confirmed your every fear that you'd somehow kept at bay with the tiniest sliver of hope.

It was one thing to be fooled, and another thing to be taken for a fool all the time.

It was only that night, dreaming forbidden dreams of Laurence and the clear attraction he had already displayed towards her, that the dream was disturbed. She woke to pain, her eyes and mouth flashing open in a wordless scream as two strong fangs pierced her neck. A body lay across hers, warm and strong as she felt the life being sucked out of her. The moment he knew she was awake, Laurence had pulled back from feeding and smiled at her with a bloody grin. ‘You are mine now, Shiloh. You may never leave this house until the day I die.’ He had warned her, planting a tormenting kiss on her lips before resuming his feed.

It was our first time really talking to one another. We talked about the weather. Now, I dont like surface conversations about the weather. It seems to just be a way to have a polite conversation because there isn't really much else to say. Sometimes it's a way to buffer an awkward situation, or light enough of a topic to carry in passing and quickly abandon without anything left hanging. But this particular weather discussion was far from that. It was so eloquent. We talked about how the weather can inspire certain longings. It was laced with romantic intonations. You could sense the magnitude of how powerful this energy transfer between us in the climate we were existing in, already was and could be.

It was the easiest thing I’ve ever done. When I stood up there, in front of all those cameras, it was like when they say your life flashes before your eyes when you’re dying. I saw all the years ahead— and not one of them mattered worth a damn. Because I didn’t have you there with me. I love you, Olivia. I don’t need a kingdom—if you’re beside me, I already have the whole world.

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

It was quite a beautiful thing, the way we simply just came to be, with no effort or trying and slowly we found each other’s hands in the dark. No chains or promises, just a simple sign of hope that things will go on and get better and that things and people and views are still out there, yet to be found.

It was the impatience of the way he tore my panties from my body, that really turned me on: I was all he could think of, as his lust got the better of him. I glanced back, and saw the underwear torn and discarded, a little strip of thin black material on the floor, and thought, Yes, this is the kind of impatient sex I’m looking for. The way they looked so small, and cruelly forgotten, was a beautiful symbol of how much we both needed to satisfy our lusts.

It was... the most difficult walk anyone ever had to make. In every way, a walk to remember.

It was wonderful to see the sparkle back in her eyes. He wanted to keep it there. For the first time in years he’d found himself actually caring about how someone else felt. He’d been spending so much time being a tough successful businessman that he’d almost forgotten how pleasurable it was to help make other people happy.

It was the way he communicated it, while still being the man’s man that he was, the alpha, who liked being in charge

It was the way she looked at me the whole time. That look said more than she ever could and, in turn, scared me more than her words alone ever could.

It was unlike anything Maaya had ever expected, and yet still so much like what she always dismissed as stories. There was no way real life could ever match the pages in her books; that was what she used to think. It was all artistry, all made up by wordsmiths who took a dull concept and turned into poetry, the hopeless ones lost in the throes of young love who though every first kiss was a sign of forever. There was no way a simple touching of lips could mean that much.

It was William who would climb out of his carriage unafraid and help a farmer drive a herd of cattle or sheep across a road when necessary.

It will be a welcome change for her to feel his hands on her hips and his breath in her hair; She's been forlorn, but like all emotions, even loneliness doesn't last. She has fallen in love with the man with the quiet strength, the confident humility and the hands that show the flame of the heart.

It was the morning when she went confront my father's killer. I asked her why she wouldn't let one of the soldiers or gerents handle his rescue. And she said to me that all little girls, regardless of what they say, dream of a prince to come in and sweep them off their feet and save the day. But what no one ever mentions is that all little boys dream of a princess to do the same thing for them. But the problem with princes and princesses is that they're spoiled and self-absorbed. They act in their own best interest. They don't go after their loved ones to rescue them so much as they do it for their own vainglory, and to serve themselves. While she'd had many princes try for her hand, it was a king who had claimed her heart. Unlike princes, kings take responsibility. they think of others instead of themselves and they will risk everything, even their very lives , for those they love. It is never about them, but rather about the ones they cherish most. they love to such depth that they would sacrifice all just to see their family smile. For every thousand princes, there is only one king. And such rare men do not deserve a useless princess who sits on her duff and orders others to worship her and do her bidding. Kings deserve queens- rare women who never flinch to do whatever it takes to keep their king safe. Women who have the courage to face any attacker and to rally to whatever challenge life throws at them. I will not sit here, she said to me, and let your father suffer while I hide in comfort. He risked his life to keep us safe and I will do no less for him. If it means my life, so be it. After all, he is my life and I don't want to live without him. He deserves only my best and that's exactly what he's going to get, no matter the personal cost.

It was the worst nightmare possible for a boy like Steele. He felt responsiblity, even when he was just very little. Something in him needed to help all of us.

It was wondrous. Almost unbelievable. Like champagne bubbles, but in her soul. She felt effervescent. And so in love.

I twist my fingers through his hair, press my lips to his cheek. The words tangle in my throat, being born and dying a thousand times. I love you.

It won't work that way. You know me, Bree. You 'know' me. I might have misled things at the club. But I gave you the real man. I don't back away from a fight and I win.

It would be, like all of Pammy's parties, hot and crowded and filled with impossibly glamorous people with hip bones so sharp they could qualify as concealed weapons.

It would take a good amount of work, a considerable amount of patience, and an unfathomable amount of foot rubs, but in the end—at least for a while—they lived happily.

Typical. I had no contacts in, no make-up on, my hair was a frizzy state, my bum was on show for the whole world to see and, for the piéce de resistance, I also happened to be hanging upside-down from a tree.

It would be too easy to become infatuated with a man like him, and also decidedly unwise considering the female debris left in his wake.

It wouldn’t be long until I made my declaration. I didn’t just need my position to be clear, I needed to blind Whitney with blazing fireballs of glory. Real hardcore knock-em-down shit.

I understand that you want “normal” by what you define it, but normal is what you make it. You could spend a lifetime in the house you grew up in and never once feel normal.

It would be easier to forget you," he says to me, "and these past few weeks we've had together. It would be easier if I could hate you. But the sad truth is, I will more than likely love you for the rest of my life.

It would be the height of dishonour if you were to die while your Cankurian mate lived.

I understand the circumstances, and I chose you. Amore mio, you must believe that nothing can change my choice or how much I love you. There’s only one person who can keep me from you, and that’s you. Alvise

I used to wonder if we were destined to fail from the start, two people who lived hard and loved fast. Afraid to slow down. But now I know that my fingers weren’t long enough to reach your wounds, to caress the places that ached from the sharp words and careless actions of others. People had confused your gentleness for weakness. You carried everything heavy. Had I known, I would have danced delicate language all around you. I would’ve told you that your internal brightness illuminated mine. And that I only saw the beauty in myself when I looked at my reflection in your eyes. If only I had known that behind that strong gaze was everything else. Everything you didn’t want me to know. Your shine came from what you felt when you looked at me. And you feared that I would be yet another to use your light and leave you alone. In even more darkness. But I wouldn’t have. I didn’t know how to tell you, but I know that pain too.

I undid the wrappings with great curiosity, for Holmes did not normally give gifts. I opened the dark velvet jeweller's box and found inside a shiny new set of picklocks, a younger version of his own. "Holmes, ever the romantic. Mrs. Hudson would be pleased.

I used to be Autumn Winters, daughter of an actress and an architect. I had been one of three living in this home, but now I was just Autumn Winters, and I was alone.

I used to think timing was everything. I have since learned that now is the time for everything.

I usually can’t stop babbling, just to fill space, but with Julienne, I can see the appeal of just being. Julienne is quiet, obviously, but that’s because she can say what she means to in so few words. She has a commanding presence that’s hard to ignore. Julienne doesn’t seem to feel the same urgency other people do. Everyone else, myself included, is constantly vying for a space to occupy, just for the sake of it. But when Julienne does share, it’s incredible. She has an actual opinion on everything, not just something to say, and I want to hear about all of them.

I’ve always loved catching snow on my eyelashes.

I've been asking around to find out what girls are into," Eugene tells me, really pleased with himself. "So I'm gonna get a spray tan and make red-velvet cupcakes.

I’ve become skeptical of the unwritten rule that just because a boy and girl appear in the same feature, a romance must ensue. Rather, I want to portray a slightly different relationship, one where the two mutually inspire each other to live - if I’m able to, then perhaps I’ll be closer to portraying a true expression of love.

I’ve been so careful my whole life that I don’t even want to imagine what I’ve missed.” Sara realized she was speaking so quickly she hadn’t taken a breath, and suddenly felt lightheaded. “I can’t miss you.