Quotes About Romance

I love her and that's the beginning of everything...

I used to build dreams about you.

I might have enjoyed the company of a woman or two... Or three but that had never stopped me from loving you.

I don't like girls in the daytime,' he said shortly, and then thinking this a bit abrupt, he added: 'But I like you.' He cleared his throat. 'I like you first and second and third.

You are mine-you know you're mine! he cried wildly...the moonlight twisted in through the vines and listened...the fireflies hung upon their whispers as if to win his glance from the glory of their eyes.

Kiss me now, love me now.

There used to be two kinds of kisses: First when girls were kissed and deserted; second, when they were engaged. Now there's a third kind, where the man is kissed and deserted. If Mr. Jones of the nineties bragged he'd kissed a girl, everyone knew he was through with her. If Mr. Jones of 1919 brags the same, everyone knows it's because he can't kiss her any more. Given a decent start any girl can beat a man nowadays.

Don't say 'wife.' I'm your mistress. Wife's such an ugly word. Your 'permanent mistress' is so much more tangible and desirable… .

Go on, she urged. Lie to me by the moonlight. Do a fabulous story.

I want you to lie to me just as sweetly as you know how for the rest of my life.

He wanted to appear suddenly to her in novel and heroic colors. He wanted to stir her from that casualness she showed toward everything except herself.

I hope I haven't given you the impression that I consider kissing intrinsically irrational.

A love affair is like a short story--it has a beginning, a middle, and an end. The beginning was easy, the middle might drag, invaded by commonplace, but the end, instead of being decisive and well knit with that element of revelatory surprise as a well-written story should be, it usually dissipated in a succession of messy and humiliating anticlimaxes.

His dark eyes took me in, and I wondered what they would look like if he fell in love.

I'd like to just get one of those pink clouds and put you in it and push you around.

We'll meet you on some corner. I'll be the man smoking two cigarettes.

She admired him; she was used to clutching her hands together in his wake and heaving audible sighs.

He talked a lot about the past and I gathered that he wanted to recover something, some idea of himself perhaps, that had gone into loving Daisy.

When Eleanor's arm touched his he felt his hands grow cold with deadly fear lest he should lose the shadow brush with which his imagination was painting wonders of her. He watched her from the corners of his eyes as ever he did when he walked with her-- she was a feast and a folly and he wished it had been his destiny to sit forever on a haystack and see life through her green eyes.

He saw her before he saw anything else in the room.

But magic must hurry on, and the lovers remain...

Well, there I was, way off my ambitions, getting deeper in love every minute, and all of a sudden I didn't care.

He had no plans, no definite intentions, except to kiss her lips again, to hold her in his arms.

Then she added in a sort of childish delight: 'We'll be poor, won't we? Like people in books. And I'll be an orphan and utterly free. Free and poor! What fun!' She stopped and raised her lips to him in a delighted kiss. 'It's impossible to be both together,' said John grimly. 'People have found that out. And I should choose to be free as preferable of the two...