Quotes About Romance

How glad I shall be if it is true that Tennyson is married! I believe in the happiness of marriage, for men especially.

CHAPTER V. 1846-1849 It is now time to tell the story of the romance which, during the last eighteen months, had entered into Elizabeth Barrett's life, and was destined to divert its course into new and happier channels. It is a story which fills one of the brightest pages in English literary history.

He ducked his head and kissed the tattoo of a sorcerer, nestled just between her breasts.

Does a Prince of Faerie love a mortal man?" "It's not encouraged.

Kit turned to him and blinked, candlelight cupping his cheek like a hand.

His name flew from her lips as if on the wings of a swan.

Must do this thing in any case: wilt thou trust thy vengeance to thine Elf-Knight, love?

The Fae should know better than to love mortal men.

The kiss was long and soft, fever-hot and gentle, although holding Perceval in her arms was not unlike embracing a rope ladder. Her lips were soft and cracked over the firmness of her teeth, and it seemed Rien expanded on her breath like a blown balloon.

And it proceeded to tell me the history of how the Synarche learned to be a patient suitor, because it turns out that making mistakes is how we grow up, whether we're a multi-species alien utopia, or just some dude screwing up their first romance beyond believability.

As he watched, the kiss was completed. Mallory pressed pink lips over the head woman's mouth, and Tristen could see the working between the corpse's teeth. Mallory's eyes closed, fingers fanning through brown hair to hold the head steady.

Michelangelo lifted his chin, turned, and gave Vincent a smile warm enough to melt his implants. He glanced over his shoulder, as if ascertaining the lounge was empty, then learned forward, slid both hands up Vincent's neck, and pulled Vincent's head down to plant a warm, tender kiss on his lips.

You have had many lovers, it seems." "I have many liasons," the Elf-knight answered, unflinchingly. "I have one lover.

You can turn off sex, and you can turn off romantic love-but it's really hard to turn off all the human emotional responses to a powerful individual without also turning off your humanity.

Lady, if it would not kill me, I should kiss thee.

He leaned closer, for all he willed himself not to, feeling her power, the serpent's hypnotic romance. Her perfume should have dizzied him, but suddenly all he could smell was the clean animal heat of the unicorn.

She did not look down in time to avoid the warmth of his smile.

Seduced by Faerie already, Merlin the Magician?" "Not everyone who comes to a lover's bed is seduced.

I will never forget experiencing Venice for the first time. It feels like you are transported to another time - the art, music, food and pure romance in the air is like no other place.

she'd never experienced for Chandler the kind of feeling a woman should have for a man she thought about marrying, that breathless kind of wanting, that aching sort of yearning, that endless, ferocious passion, that insistent, frenzied, needy demand, that hot, sweaty, wanton arousal that made a woman just want to rip off her clothes and wrap her naked body around a man and feed herself to him whole, that... that…

It couldn't possibly be a good idea to touch him, she told herself as she eyed the proffered hand. Not when the summer night got more sultry and the red high heels started to tango and the saxophones began murmuring "I Got You Under My Skin," which sounded way too much like "I Got You In My Orifice.

First love, with its frantic haughty imagination, swings its object clear of the everyday, over the rut of living, making him all looks, silences, gestures, attitudes, a burning phrase with no context. This isolation, young love and hero worship accomplish without remorse; they hardly know tenderness.

Young girls like the excess of any quality. Without knowing, they want to suffer, to suffer they must exaggerate; they like to have loud chords struck upon them. Loving art better than life they need men to be actors; only an actor moves them, with his telling smile, undomestic, out of touch with the everyday that they dread. They love to enjoy love as a system of doubts and shocks. They are right; not seeking husbands yet, they have no reason to see love socially.

She never foresaw their marriage, its days and nights, other than as embowered by dazzling acres, blossoms a snowy blaze and with honeyed stamens, by sun then moonlight, till came later - fruited boughs bowed, voluptuous, to the ground, gumminess oozing from bloomy plums. She had been a DH Lawrence reader and a townswoman.