Best 943 quotes in «love story quotes» category

Ok! So that's the spice. Typical gossips for or against a qualified newcomer!

Once fallen in true love, a person can't really fall out of it, no matter what. How much ever you try to hate your better half, you'll end up falling more instead. Some part of him will always reside in your heart.

One can be too ingenious in trying to search out the truth. Sometimes one must simply respect its veiled face. Of course this is a love story.

Once in a while, right in the middle of an ordinary life love knocks our doors, enters our lives & changes it forever. You start believing in dreams, you start making wishes & you start to trust your heart even more! That love holds your hands & makes you feel you are safer than ever; that love makes you believe that nothing can go wrong now; and oh that warm hug, which makes you want to spend your entire life then & there! That’s when you realise you are not living an ordinary life, but it’s a fairytale!

Only LEFT and RIGHT hand can hold each other and walk together...Only RIGHTs are enough to say bye. Nobody is perfect in the world, if you Love the perfection of his/her imperfections then LOVE exists.

One thing was certain: he was my one. Most people go on their whole lives and never find their one, but I found mine. I found him when I was twelve-years-old.

Or maybe our paths will diverge someday, taking us in separate directions, making our relationship a brief but beautiful spot in a series of unforgettable encounters. Either way, it will be a journey worth taking. Either way, it will be a love story.

Our communists aren’t like your communists. In New York they’re always on the street demonstrating, but their demands are absurd. Slash rents! Free groceries and electricity for the poor! They demand that landlords open up their vacant apartments to house the unemployed. They even demand that the Communist Party distribute unemployment relief instead of the Labor Department. They might as well demand cake and champagne!

Our connection was like a hidden force pulling us towards one another, and resisting it took a strength that I didn’t know I could keep up for much longer.

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.

One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life. That word is love." (Sophocles) by Adam Harford, Duke of Harford, from the last page of "Sophie's Salvation

On the long drive to no where, As the song came to this part; "We'll stay For ever this way You are safe in my heart and My heart will go on" Their eyes met and they smiled at each other.

Our love survived love.

Our stories hold unique inspiration for one another.

Ours was a love story, the kind that’s not supposed to happen to black girls anymore. This was vintage romance made scarce after Dr. King, along with Negro-owned dress shops, drugstores, and cafeterias.

Our souls are madly in love, but our human keeps getting in the way. I'll find you first in our next life, Its the only promise i can make.

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

Perhaps the only thing worse than learning a secret is being kept from you is knowing you aren't the type to let it go.

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.

people say I'm running back to the thing that broke me, yeah he did, but I picked myself back up, now it's about fixing him.

Please be glad for me, if I shall hide my spirit behind canvas... you know I shall do it just to breathe you deeper and forevermore... (Excerpted from August creature, chapter Pain)

POEM FOR SOUKAÏNA” **** To tell of my new Moroccan Love, Ô, I court her everyday. But just as a pearl in the mud is a pearl, So is my Love just an Arab girl… in that I offer her constant, loving woos, but she’ll ask me in return that I give her flooze*. That’s when I kiss her and shrug, and I say, “Someday.” And she gives me her love free anyway. * * * Ô, my Love is a child of the souks. In Casablanca born. A gypsy thief, “Soukaïna” named. We met in the souks of Marrakech, It was here my heart she tamed. Ô, she came at nineteen to Marrakech, In search of wild fun. And she lived in Marrakech seven years, Before my heart she won.

Princess Anna was never more than a few steps away from him. He was beginning to feel like a besieged castle. The man should be the arrow, and the woman should be the target. Here, however, it seemed that the target was flying around trying to run into the arrow. There was something wrong about it.

P—Jamie!” I called. He waded back toward me. “I’m starting to think my name is Pajamie.” “Your name should be Pajerky. You said it wasn’t deep.” “Pajerky?” He gave me a skeptical look. “That’s Pathetic.” “We’ll see how smug you are once I’m on dry land.

Promises from Lo are like bars at 2 a.m.--empty.

Quiero esperar en silencio la séptima ola. Si, aquí cuentan la historia indómita de la séptima ola. Las primeras seis son previsibles y equilibradas. Se condicionan unas a otras, no deparan sorpresas. Mantienen la continuidad. Pero, !cuidado con la séptima ola¡ La séptima es imprevisible. Durante mucho tiempo pasa inadvertida, participa en el monótono proceso, se adapta a sus predecesoras. Pero a veces estalla. Siempre ella, siempre la séptima. Porque es despreocupada, inocente, rebelde, barre con todo, lo cambia todo. Para ella no existe el antes, solo el ahora. Y después todo es distinto. ¿Mejor o peor? Eso solo pueden decirlo quienes estuvieron arrastrados por ella, quienes tuvieron el coraje de enfrentarla, de dejarse cautivar...

Place your truth on my hips. Don’t tell me who you are. Show me with your sincerity, let me see the helplessness in your eyes, wrap your irreverence around me. I’ve been afraid. My freedom has been mistaken for frivolousness, my sexuality for carelessness. Double standards imposed with hypocritical fingers and incurious hearts. I’ve relinquished myself to the wrong ideologies. I’m tired of having to cover my vulnerability to protect others from feeling theirs. Expose me, penetrate me with broad philosophies, let us collide recklessly with freedom. Steal my wild heart, but do not ask me to live under an umbrella when I like being soaked by the rain.

Primo giorno di navigazione 1 gennaio 1900, al largo della Costa Orientale degli Stati Uniti «Mr Benton, l’accompagno al suo posto al tavolo del comandante.» Con un piccolo cenno di ringraziamento, Ken seguì lo steward nella sfarzosa sala da pranzo dell’Oceanic II, tutta marmi, specchi e lampadari di cristallo, sino al tavolo centrale imbandito con una tale quantità di bicchieri e posate da mettere probabilmente in soggezione più di un commensale. Durante la traversata avrebbe diviso i pasti con il comandante, Mr Cameron, il suo vice, il medico di bordo e una ventina di passeggeri di prima classe, considerati, per varie ragioni a lui poco comprensibili, importanti.Ne aveva ricevuto l’elenco completo solo pochi minuti prima dal valletto che era andato a prelevarlo nel suo alloggio, per scortarlo, come un secondino, sino alla sala da pranzo: un trattamento di riguardo per i viaggiatori importantiche occupavano le suite del ponte principale del transatlantico. In realtà, Ken aveva sperato di poter trascorrere i cinque giorni della traversata da solo, a elaborare la delusione e a piangere sulla sua vita che non sarebbe trascorsa al fianco della donna che ancora amava disperatamente. E invece… era stato catapultato in un mondo dove gli obblighi sociali sembravano essere ancora più assillanti che sulla Quinta Avenue. Forse, a pensarci meglio, da domani avrebbe deciso di consumare tutti i pasti chiuso nella sua cabina, servito da Jim, il suo valletto. Forse ci sarebbe rimasto per tutti e cinque i giorni, chiuso nella sua cabina. Con l’umore nero che si ritrovava, che a dire il vero rasentava la disperazione, non aveva alcuna voglia di sorridere e scambiare chiacchiere inutili con un gruppo di spocchiosi aristocratici britannici e di suoi connazionali milionari, tutta gente che frequentava l’alta società della East Coast e Wall Street; come lui stesso, del resto. Sperò almeno di sedere vicino a uno degli ufficiali di bordo, in modo da poter intrattenere una conversazione che andasse al di là degli ultimi pettegolezzi. Compreso quello che probabilmente si era già diffuso in tutta New York e che riguardava la patetica rottura del suo fidanzamento con Camille Brontee. Dannazione! Se qualcuno gli avesse chiesto qualcosa a proposito, o vi avesse solo accennato, la tentazione di rifilargli un bel cazzotto sul naso sarebbe stata enorme. Si guardò la mano destra, ancora dolorante a causa del pugno che solo il giorno prima aveva tirato in faccia a Frank Raleigh, l’uomo per cui Camille lo aveva lasciato.

—¿Qué tanto me miras? — pregunto con timidez. Podía haberle dicho cualquier cosa, podía haberle dicho que me gustaba su peinado, o que me agradaban loa aretes que traía puestos, pero mi boca se desconectó de mi cuerpo. —Es que eres muy hermosa—dije en un susurro apenas audible.

Real is not Dreams, Dreams are not Real, Unless you find the fine line...and erase it

Reaffirm your love for one another and let grow.

Reading is only a pretext for our bodies to stick together, like a sculpture, fused in a way that when trying to separate one from other, or the work remains intact or is completely lost

Reluctantly, we had already accepted every challenge at the moment we were born. And as long as we live, we have no right to give up. For we, or at least someone very similar to us, already died once, long ago in a faraway place.

Respectable Shadowhunters are not supposed to bring my sort home to meet Mom and Dad. I have a past. I have several pasts. Besides, good Shadowhunter boys aren’t meant to bring home boyfriends at all.

Reminiscent of a diamond, she is gifted, privileged, and positioned to glisten.

Romance her, enhance her, desire her, put her first.

...remember after every autumn, the flora senses the rapturous kiss of cheerful spring. (Book-Love Vs Destiny)

Sergey described the mighty furnaces and plants rising up from the steppes. “How far we’ve come. How much work there is still to do!” She would have to see it herself one day, with her own eyes. Florence reread the last line with a turbulent flip in her stomach. Was this an invitation?

She affected me, even when she was absent.

Ring the bells that still can ring. Forget your perfect offering. There is a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in.-Leonard Cohen

She ached for him to touch her. As much as her words said "we can't" and as much as she was saying "no" in her head, her heart was saying "please kiss me." "Please just grab me and kiss me before I can say no.

Run your fingers across my skin, slowly. Tear down my layers. I want to feel you within. Life is unpredictable. I have been afraid. I have been sad. I have been disappointed. But I don’t want to live behind walls of safety, because I have been hurt. I want to feel your skin against mine and your fingers wandering across me. I want our lives to intertwine dangerously, our essences naked and colliding in reckless passion. I don’t want to exist trapped behind a wall, observing life as an outsider from a window seat. I want you to strip me down layer by layer and hold me from the inside out.

She felt a wave of fury overtake her as she looked at him standing there naked. She loved him with everything she had, but the love ripped her heart right out.

She danced in the shower of my words & I fell softly: Upon her.

She literally freezes on the spot with shame and desire, letting go even further.

She loved this man. This wonderful, respectiful, willful man. And she couldn’t even tell him.

She says she loves me infinity power infinity power infinity into infinity! And I look at the sky, smile, and 'sigh!

She used to be all right, Una, when we were kids. I liked that she wasn't fussed about her antlers.

She was a universe holding a billion galaxies in her heart.

…she was afraid of how he made her feel, because he made her feel way too much