Best 9447 quotes in «romance quotes» category

All I know is that you are the only person that has ever made me feel this way. Break my heart and mend it at the same time, make my breathing feel inadequate. You, Clara, make me want more.

All I want is you. You don't have to choose me now or ever, but when you choose, I want you free.

All masculine, hard-bodied and sensual, he was a deadly weapon sent by the gods to drive women mad, and a walking billboard for all things wicked and carnal. Orgasms! Get your orgasms here. Hot and juicy! Just how you like ‘em!

All my life I’ve lived a beautiful lie. The governor’s son with the bright future set for him. The middle child. The one who no one knew how bad he was suffering until it made the nightly news.

All my memories still smell of you!

All my pains has always increased my sense of purpose.

All literature, or most literature, is about sex." (A. Burgess)

All love is immortal.

All men are dogs, Nichelle, and if you don’t feed your dog, you can’t be surprised when he’s in the neighbor’s trash looking for food.

All of the things that were shown in early studies to be good for longevity—happy marriages, healthy bodies—are ours to have. We live long, good lives. We die on our eightieth birthdays, surrounded by our families, before dementia sets in. Cancer, heart disease, and most debilitating illnesses are almost entirely eradicated. This is as close to perfect as any society has ever managed to get.

All of the emotions that hit people at times like these, all of them, were coursing through us both like a secret we couldn’t tell. Because if we said everything we were thinking and feeling right then…if we laid it all out for one another…we might not like the way the words strung together. Or the way fear and hope and bitterness and love mashed up into one big mess in the pits of our stomachs.

All of my life God has allowed me to share prospectives with people who are different. You cannot lead people whose prospective you are not willing to understand.

All of my life wishing on stars, wishing for him has finally come true... My wishes are no longer for me anymore, my wishes now have become for two.

All of sudden I cared what someone thought of me. Because we are friends. And making you miserable and angry makes me miserable and angry. I don’t want to be the person to make you mad or cry, Ryiah. I want to make you laugh. I want you to make me laugh, because gods know you are the only one who can. So, yes, I am sorry, I am sorry because even if I was right, I was also wrong. And I’d rather lose a silly battle than your friendship.

All religions want the same thing-salvation. We're all the same.

Allow your old love to hold your hands and guide you to a new love. --- Evolution.

All paths lead me to you.

All right, then,” she snapped, “do as you please! Perhaps afterward we could manage a coherent discussion.” Twisting beneath him, she flopped onto her stomach. Christopher went still. After a long hesitation, she heard him ask in a far more normal voice, “What are you doing?” “I’m making it easier for you,” came her defiant reply. “Go on, start ravishing.” Another silence. Then, “Why are you facing downward?” “Because that’s how it’s done.” Beatrix twisted to look at him over her shoulder. A twinge of uncertainty caused her to ask, “Isn’t it?” His face was blank. “Has no one ever told you?” “No, but I’ve read about it.” Christopher rolled off her, relieving her of his weight. He wore an odd expression as he asked, “From what books?” “Veterinary manuals. And of course, I’ve observed the squirrels in springtime, and farm animals and-” She was interrupted as Christopher cleared his throat loudly, and again. Darting a confused glance at him, she realized that he was trying to choke back amusement. Beatrix began to feel indignant. Her first time in a bed with a man, and he was laughing. “Look here,” she said in a businesslike manner, “I’ve read about the mating habits of over two dozen species, and with the exception of snails, whose genitalia is on their necks, they all—” She broke off and frowned. “Why are you laughing at me? Christopher had collapsed, overcome with hilarity. As he lifted his head and saw her affronted expression, he struggled manfully with another outburst. “Beatrix. I’m . . . I’m not laughing at you.” “You are!” “No I’m not. It’s just . . .” He swiped a tear from the corner of his eye, and a few more chuckles escaped. “Squirrels . . .” “Well, it may be humorous to you, but it’s a very serious matter to the squirrels.

All she could see was her demise and it called out a tempting ruse, offering a suffering less potent than what sickened the living.

All that I am. All that I will be is defined by this moment.

...all she could think was 'This is how close a kiss is'. It felt every bit as dangerous as she'd imagined.

All stories are love stories, and there are numerous kinds of love, from the love of a mother holding her child for the first time to the love of blood that drives a psychopath, so I will always write about love, but not necessarily romance. Let the saner people do that.

All the bad in my life led me to her, which makes me think that I can live with the past if she is my future. —HEW

All that matters is me and this sweet boy who thinks I’m beautiful.

All the joints and drinks in the world could only serve to remind me. I imagine myself being Gatsby watching the party that I have thrown to get to where I am. A future where there is a something. Where I am better, where I am something.

All the labour of man is for his mouth, and yet the appetite is not filled.

All the real secrets are buried, and only ghosts speak the truth.

All the failures in my life freed me from all my fears so that I can succeed.

All these men who loved Emma, I think. For all her problems, men were fixated on her. Will anyone ever feel like that about me?

All the friends in the world are in the fountain of a pen.

All the privilege I claim for my own sex (it is not a very enviable one, you need not covet it) is that of loving longest, when existence or when hope is gone.

[A]ll these years, I had been telling myself that my feelings for you were a juvenile infatuation; a dream inspired by my secret hope that somewhere there could be a creature who could love me.

All the wrong things in life will make sense at the write time.

All this have I proved by wisdom: I said, I will be wise; but it was far from me. That which is far off, exceeding deep, who can find it out?

All this is what it means to regret.

All this sexual tension is making me sweat.

All things in Fiji are paid for in blood.

All they told me was that he was forty-two when he died. I just wanted...to find out more about what kind of person he was. I could tell you more, amanda thought to herself. A lot more. She'd suspected the truth since Morgan Tanner had called, and she'd made some calls to confirm her suspicions. Dawson, she'd learned, had been taking off life support at CarolinaEast Regional Medical Center late Monday night. He's been kept alive long after doctors knew he would never recover, because he was an organ donor. Dawson, she knews, had saved Alan's life-but in the end, he'd saved Jared's as well. And for that meant...everything. I gave you the best of me, he'd told her once, and with every beat of her son's heart, she knew he'd done exactly that. How about a quick hug," she said, "before we go inside?" Jared rolled his eyes, but he opened his arms anyway. "I love you, Mom," he mumbled, pulling her close. Amanda closed her eyes, feeling the steady rhythm in his chest. "I love you, too.

All the world is in your shadow, Zahra.

All things are full of labour; man cannot utter it; the eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear filled with hearing.

All too often, when we love somebody, we don't accept him or her as what the person effectively is. We accept him or her insofar as this person fits the co-ordinates of our fantasy. We misidentify [...] him or her – which is why, when we discover that we were wrong, love can quickly turn into violence.

Almost painfully he took his eyes from her.

All your doing is keeping wayward teenage punks off the street. You should leave the real investigative work to us big girls with the pens and paper.

Al margen del paréntesis en el pulso constante que manteníamos desde que nos habíamos conocido, yo creía seguir teniendo claro lo que me convenía. Hubiera firmado en ese mismo instante por una aventura de una noche con algún tipo guapo y amable, algo que devolviera mi corazón a la vida, que me mostrara que los para siempre no existen pero los aquí y ahora no están tan mal. Porque seguir esperando el amor perfecto me resultaba pueril y ya había descubierto que la ingenuidad solo se traduce en dolor y heridas que nunca terminan de cicatrizar.

A lone Japanese man stood on the sidewalk a short distance away. Sleek, self-possessed, dressed in gray. Emma’s lover. Moon’s prime suspect. The man who had once been Dr. Toshi Okada—maimed, supposedly dead, come back alive for revenge.

Alma didn’t want Isabel to start singing the praises of their pet, a rescue beagle, or she wouldn’t shush until sundown. “I’ve found the missing lady,” Alma said. “Say welcome home, Betsy Sweet.

Almost-Sister, you picked a real catch.” “It was I who caught her,” Adam said softly. “It took years.

Al momento lo sentí entrar y se acercó sigilosamente, subió a la cama y se colocó justo detrás de mí, estaba aterrada no quería abrir los ojos, no quería saber nada, sólo quería que esto pasara rápido y se acabara.

A lot of who you were in middle age was determined before you had a chance to manipulate, control, or eve understand the things around you. It was no mystery, he thought, why some old people's minds returned to their youth; the wonder of those years, the discoveries, the first experience with the dirty secret of death, and the first stirrings of lust and love were indelible, drawn in luminous colors on clean canvas. Indeed, the first sex act was so mind-boggling that most people could still remember it clearly twenty, thirty, sixty years later.

A love letter lost in the mail, forgotten, miss delivered and then discovered years later and received by the intended is romantic. A love letter ending up in someone's spam filter is just annoying.