Best 9447 quotes in «romance quotes» category

Our eyes met and the cloudy sky filled with light.

Our eyes met and a never-before feeling entered our hearts. We gazed at each other longingly. We were indeed smitten by each other. Even before we realised, our lips locked. Ah, my first kiss. I had heard stories of how the first kiss is etched in one’s memory forever. This was absolute bliss. I felt a sense of belonging, a sense of togetherness. He took me by surprise with his proposal of love for me. Those magical words still linger in my heart. My dream of finding the right man had become a reality.

Our first kiss was there on the bridge in the woods. How do you describe a first kiss? It is like trying to hold water in your hands. There is an ancient Chinese proverb that compares kissing to drinking salted water. “You drink, and your thirst increases,” it says. Time, I’m sure, passed by, but we remained unavailable for comment.

Our eyes are closed, but even without seeing, they’re only for each other.

Our eyes met. I kissed her soft face, and down the stairs they descended. Their voices blended into an echo, a murmur. I ventured barefoot into the bedroom. The dark gown lay crumpled upon the bed

Our feelings are best articulated with words.

our feet are grape-squashed in memories our skins are still flushed from the touch of summer’s lips.

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.

Our group pressed west on what was left of Highway 93, toward the pass leading to Las Vegas. Sand covered the road in loose drifts so deep the horses' hooves sank into them. The metal highway signs were bent low by the strong wind, and above us, billboards that once screamed ads for the casinos were now stripped of their promises of penny slots and large jackpots. The raw boards underneath were exposed, like showgirls without their makeup. Some signs had been blown over completely and lay half-buried under mounds of sand, like sleeping animals. Cars dotted the highway, their paint scoured off and dead tumbleweeds caught underneath them. Their windows were fogged with death, and despite my effort not to look, my eyes were drawn to the blurred images of the still forms inside. I tried to concentrate on the dark road ahead of us instead.

Our lips were for each other and our eyes were full of dreams. We knew nothing of travel and we knew nothing of loss. Ours was a world of eternal spring, until the summer came.

Our love is not new It has its roots in the sky Our love has overcome The darkest of the stars Our love goes daily Because it lives in obviousness.

Our lives may not have fit together, but ohhh did our souls know how to dance...

Our love is a wonder.

Our marriage began with knots and fangs; vows inked on skin. Black venom stained our fingers, twinned snakes strangling the marriage vein in Celtic macramé – cocksure monogamy. We became one, me and the gun, the serpent reeling itself from the needle. I had few firsts left; marriage a wild west for the hedonist. Snakes unspooled like figure-eights, symbols of eternity. Acrimony, alimony; Leave the moaning to adults. We children will be wiser wed, inoculated – these hickeys, homeopathy.

Our place is here, our time is now!" Killian firmly declared.

Our partners can add sweet dimensions to our lives, but for us to be utterly fulfilled we need to be totally aligned with our own sensuality.

Our paths crossed for a moment. But that was enough!

Our movements flow, a little awkwardly at first, but then we move together – the drum beat beckoning quicker steps, more passionate turns, closer touches, and glances traded as our eyes meet mid-dance. I wonder if Selena is watching but in this moment, it really doesn’t matter. I can’t recall having such an intriguing dance partner who has won me over so fast, and who I find myself wanting to touch even more. I barely know his name and I sense I should get to know him better first. In fact, I’m certain I want to.

Our souls stretched across time, spanning the universe in search of each other and suddenly, there it was...life, love, desire, all we had to do was indulge...

Our tongues meet, probing, exploring, welcoming, and everything else fades into the background. All the secrets and lies. All my worries and concerns. When we’re together like this, I have all the proof I need to know this is what’s right for me. He’s right for me.

Our surroundings fade and we exist in unison, two people who once shared cups of coffee, unprecedentedly ourselves in a changing world.

Ours was not one of those nice, quaintly old-fashioned mobile homes that senior citizens putter around in. We lived in the beat-up tin can of clichéd poverty.

Outside of note passing and the occasional tight-lipped kiss after school events, "going together" in seventh grade was pretty meaningless. You couldn't drive, had nowhere to go, and either weren't allowed or couldn't afford to do anything. I was kind of like being an old married couple, except you could control you bowels and stay awake past 8 p.m.

Our women – our wives – are the heart of Calberna. Without them, Calbernan males could not function. We would die. Just as you would die without the heart that beats in your chest.

Out in the field, any connection with home just makes you weaker. It reminds you that you were once civilized, soft; and that can get you killed faster than a bullet through the head.

Outline of your frame My paper witness your silhouette Sipping in coffee My muse, my Juliet. Afternoon spent, In hungry desires Ending with a kiss On your coffee lips.

Outside, the guys took care of loading the groceries into the back of Shane's pickup. Emilie watched as four very attractive men stretched over the lowered tailgate to place the bags in the truck bed. A girl could get used to this.

Outstanding romance! — JoAnna

Oversimplifying the cosmos just for a transaction of currency and holy spit, those heartless fucks with time to spare, with conceptual frameworks within the word becoming flesh once again upon remote islands our soul could never escape. So my question lies with my Spanish tongue, exploring the pitch black labyrinth where you listen to the deepest drums; hung on a single string wrapping up my skin in dead languages. Oversimplifying the 21st century with a single search, the awakening hatred boiling the oceans and cities; diving below the surface, witnessing underwater queens and goddesses drenched in my lovers scent and deadly sex untouched by any depth.

Over the top sex —Actionjackson

Ô, Wanderess, Wanderess When did you feel your most euphoric kiss? Was I the source of your greatest bliss?

Owen felt like he was bearing witness to the birth of someone new, like watching the rising of a phoenix or a snake shedding an ill-fitting skin. She hadn't taken her clothes off with the aim to seduce him, and that made the act even more enticing... Awareness, a new state of herself, that was what she was after, and in it she was glorious.

Painfully, the tips of his fingers grazed over her neck, torturing her soul. She didn't move as his hand stroked the length of her nape, feeling the slight warmth of her aura make him lightly tingle with a frenzied anticipation. Her blood burned for him, feeling her veins bubble hot as he continued to linger his seductions along the rims of her body. He listened attentively as the beating of her heart increased tri-fold, the quickening pulse thump beneath his horny fingertips.

Owen folded his arms around Morgan to steady her when she crashed into him, and was enveloped by her scent, her warm softness. When she gave a scared little scream, he tightened his arms in a protective reflex. She fit him perfectly, he noted distractedly. And she was soaked: he'd seen her come in from the rain, her expression frantic, just as he had rushed in the front door. His shirt was plastered to his chest between them. "Hi Honey, I'm home," he breathed, astounded to be holding her at last.

Owen remarked "The basis of science and art is magical - vice versa, magic is art and science. It goes both ways. There's not ever black and white...in magic or in anything to my way of thinking.

Óyeme como quien oye llover, ni atenta ni distraída.

Pack or clan, they took care of each other.

Papa, you were right. Love did come after security.

Pain is an inevitable part when you truly love.

Pain is an old friend who left briefly and has now returned. Starvation without sustenance, I had grown acquaint. Satiety was a stranger who invaded my deepest being, and now I cannot live without.

Painters, writers, musicians are lonely people. So are statesmen and admirals and generals. But then, I added to be fair, so are criminals and lunatics. Let's just say, not to be too flattering, that true individuals are lonely. -- Vivienne Michel

Paint me by numbers and colour me in watercolour half tones.

Panty-melting” — Mary Johnston

Papa wants you to marry some decrepit old wigsby?” She gave him a charmingly rueful smile, all tousled golden curls like some angel who had rolled off a cloud in her sleep, he thought, and had fallen to earth with a thud. “Something like that,” she said in vague amusement. “I see. Well, surely we can find a solution.” He snapped his fingers and gave her a grin. “Shall I ruin you? That should solve your problem. The old wigsby won’t want you if you’re used goods, and I assure you, I’d be happy to oblige.

Parce que je suis magique et que tu est ma pierre précieuse.Marty B.M

– Parce que tu crois que c’est mon ex-petit-ami ? Ou que j’ai envie de me le taper ? Est-ce que ça veut dire que maintenant que tu es un homme marié, tu vas arrêter de voir toutes tes anciennes maîtresses ? demanda Elianor avec une naïveté exagérée. Et avant même que Tristan n’ait le temps de répondre, elle repartit en fou rire. – Ah mais, suis-je bête ! enchaîna-t-elle en se frappant le front avec la paume de la main. Ce serait synonyme de ne plus adresser la parole à la totalité de la gent féminine, je me trompe ? – Est-ce une pointe de jalousie que je perçois dans ta voix ? se moqua-t-il. – Pas du tout, c’est de la fatalité.

Parce que tu est magnifique que tu est une belle fleur radieuse.Et que tu devrais avoir plus que de simple mots Qui est tu,tu est Ma Reine.Marty B.M

Parents never you make church and studying the word of God optional for your children. If they are in your house, get them up, teach them the word of God, the greatest awards, PhD or achievements any child could have is to grow up in the word of God. I and my family are living witness and it is extending to our third generation.

Partly James was jealous because he was a virgin, but mostly it just felt really weird being in a room with two people who'd spent the night having sex. It reminded him of the feeling you get when you pull a hair off your tongue and realise it's not one of your own.

Paranoia. The more you think of an imaginary problem, the more you feel as though it’s real –