Best 1397 quotes in «romantic quotes» category

He never believed in miracles until he met her.

He put a hand on his throat, as though trying to stop the words, but they came anyway. "You're home. To me.

He pinned me in place with a direct look, his dark brown eyes smoldering. “You’re Mary Jane,” he said finally. “And you have all these Flash Thompsons and Harry Osborns hovering around you, trying to make a move. Because...you’re basically amazing.

Her dad turned to me. "You. Follow Me." "Woof," I said.

He raised himself on his hands and looked at Irene's face: the nudity of that feminine body had risen into her face, the body had reabsorbed it, as nature reabsorbs forsaken gardens.

Her hands slid to his shoulders, his biceps, and dug in as if to hold him here, right here. But he wasn't going anywhere. He liked her hands on him, liked her tongue in his mouth, and when she made that noise deep in her throat, the one that said she was as lost as him, he groaned, both in pleasure and with a good amount of what-the-fuckery, because he knew. He was in trouble. Down to the bone trouble, and he didn't give one single shit.

Here's what women want. Most of us, anyway. They want a guy with a bit of an edge who has confidence in himself and who knows what he's looking for in life. Combine that with someone who treats them well, makes them laugh and that they have chemistry with, and ta-da, magic. It's not rocket science.

Her honest eyes still don’t hate my dishonest heart....... Love Unsung.

Her steel blue eyes captivated him at first glance and along with the alluring scent of jasmine surrounding her presence, he lost all sense of time and rhythm, and barely remembered the ensuing conversation. Thinking he had died and gone to heaven, the only thing that stuck in his memory, as they found themselves pressed urgently against the wall of her hotel room, was her name; Ginny.

Her kiss was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering.

Hers were gloriously improbable tales, stuffed with happy coincidences, eternal devotion, and the unwavering recognition of inner beauty.

Her feelings had come like a flower on a tree. A bud, gently forming - and just like that, an undying blossom.

Her smile makes me feel like a million little stars have just found their home in the gravitational force of my heart's most natural orbit

Her veins flowed with liquid poetry. I stole the words from her mouth with my kisses.

Her wavy, shoulder-length hair was the colour of polished mahogany.

He’s a paradox but so am I, and two paradoxes trying to solve the other is the Devil’s favourite game to play.

He's cheap and cheesy, coz he loves you. If you want to know how 'expensive' he has been, just check his inbox, see how may gals he disappointed for you.

He smiled at me shyly and took a step closer. I froze, heart pounding, as he put one hand on my cheek and leaned toward me. I swallowed, gazing up at him with what I hoped was an expectant (and not alarmed) expression. He bent his head toward mine and...

He sighed, then said, "So basically, you're stalking her." "I am NOT stalking her." I insisted. "That's where you come in. If I followed her by myself, someone who did not understand the situation and did not realize that I am so responsible-" McGillicuddy snorted. "- might mistake what I am doing for stalking. However, her big brother is with me. Therefore we are protecting her.

He’s silent for a few seconds staring back at me with his soulful blue eyes. Even though he never says a word I can feel his emotions rising up inside him. He reaches out to wipe the tear from my cheek and I feel his love for me, smell it, taste it, his love is intoxicating.

Her voice was soft and layered, like a wind chime in the breeze before it rains.

He turned back to Lara, his alert gaze raking over her tearful face. Somehow the solid reality of his presence eased her panic. He folded her in his arms, anchoring her against his chest, murmuring quietly into her hair. Sniffling, Lara reached inside his waistcoat until her palm rested over the steady beat of his heart. The sensation of his warm breath sinking down to her scalp me her quiver. It was so terribly intimate, crying in his arms... even more personal than making love. But he had never felt so much like a husband to her as he did in this moment. Quieting, she inhaled his familiar scent and let out a shaky sigh.

He stood frozen, staring at me as if he didn’t know how to do anything else. I couldn’t focus; it was like all the world’s blue had originated from his eyes. It was all there, the color of midnight, the sky, the ocean, and blue raspberry lollipops. Why had I spent so much time pretending they weren’t remarkable?

He took a breath. “My future wife’s in the police... “Wait, wait, wait. How long have you been going out with this woman?” Luca cleared his throat again, this time with deserved sheepishness. “We met yesterday.

He waits. "And I think that is what I would like love to be. Leaving room for each other, knowing that not every step is going to be side by side. Giving more than taking. Waiting. Trusting,

He was so stark and male and beautiful that she hungered for him. Physically, to be sure. But also from someplace even more intimate, someplace where heart and soul melded into a yearning so strong, that she wanted to weep from it.

He was an erotic necessity, clad in denim...

He was perfect, was how she'd put it to herself. And then that clear-eyed, calm-faced boy would shine forth from Red's sags and wrinkles, from his crumpled eyelids and hollowed cheeks and the two deep crevices bracketing his mouth and just his general obtuseness, his stubbornness, his infuriating belief that simple cold logic could solve all life's problems, and she would feel unspeakably lucky to have ended up with him.

He was supposed to be the one I loved forever. But he never saw the tears stream down my face. Never knew the hurt and humiliation and anguish. He just disappeared into the night,

He whispered my name. And there, at that moment, I knew I had never heard a sweeter song of love before.

He who sacrifices his respect for love basically burns his body to obtain the light.

He wrapped his arms around me. We were cuddled up like a couple of spoons in a cutlery drawer.

Hey, Noah?” “Yes?” he says sweetly. “Why do you call me Snowflake?” He steps closer and runs one finger along my cheek, making my skin tingle in its wake. “Because you’re just like a snowflake. Beautiful and unique, and with one touch you’ll be wet.

His breathing was heavy, and full of life. He shivered still, his hand finding Katty unsteady and unprepared of what was going to come next. “I hurt you!” Nico said, his voice raised with worry. “No, not at all, honey, my sweetest Master, but you have me, all of me, the wholeness of me and my darkness.” “You play with the devil dear.” Nico sombered. “No.” Katty defiantly said. “You took my blood and it made me your slave, yet I love every minute of it.” “Tell me you love me Katty.” He said, nearing her closer than close, mending the space between them with the threads of courage. “Tell me you have no fear, nor no weakness against me. Or no shame in loving me.” “I fear you not, my love.” Katty sincerely committed. “I fear only that you will be taken away by the hands of the vampire hunter, and only then, will I fall.

His gentle exploration in search of every freckle sparked the realization that love does not equal pain.

His smile is beautiful. It's the kind of smile that can take away all nervousness and tension in a room, no matter how big. I have no choice but to smile back.

He wants to know everything about her. How she spends her time when not performing. How she interacts with her audiences. How she takes her tea.

His smiles were hard won, but when they came, they were well worth it. They lit up his face like summer sunshine. The rest of the time, and far more frequently, he seemed lost in winter. And when he laughed, he was a different person.

His sisters had posters of Henney plastered all over their bedroom walls, had even established a man-beauty scale of one to Henney.

His smile is too beautiful for this world, and I am dying of love.

He was glad she had come; she was for him, as he for her, 'another place'.

Hopes were high. But just like a balloon pushed past its breaking point, hope is fragile. One lungful of air too many and the balloon bursts leaving ugly, shriveled fragments behind, impossible to piece back together.

How do you know you love her?' His friend asked. 'Because I would cross a hundred rivers and die a thousand suns just to be with her,' He said.

Honey, I have a feeling he doesn’t think of you as a friend. Have you seen the way he looks at you?” She glanced at him and as if he could feel her gaze, he turned his eyes on her. Soft and hard all at once. “Yeah,” Mel said. “He promised to stop doing that.

How can the moon be scooped from the water's surface, or flowers be plucked from the void?

How do we rid ourselves of romantic sentiments we know to be illusory without invoking apathy or becoming cold from the rest of this lost race? Answer unknown.

How do you know?” “Well, I don’t, I’m making this up, but I bet I’m right.

How easy your life becomes when a nice girl enters in.

How easily such a thing can become a mania, how the most normal and sensible of women once this passion to be thin is upon them, can lose completely their sense of balance and proportion and spend years dealing with this madness.

However, I have to warn you, I kind of like that you find me irresistible.” “Did I say that?” he asked, a slight tint creeping up his stubbled cheeks. “I didn’t say that! I find you completely resistible.