Quotes About Romance

You are insufferable, my lord, she seethed. He grinned as he held back her chair while she seated herself. Yes, my lady, I know, he said.

And who did you think I was, Diana Ingram? You were my fantasy lover, she said. And I realize with every ounce of foresight in my body that I will be teased about this for the rest of my life. By me? he said, looking down at her, one eyebrow raised. Me tease the woman I love? You malign me, Diana. I have one question, though. How do I compare with my competition?

You are a remarkably attractive woman, Elizabeth, and six years has been a long time. I should not say no to an invitation to your bed.

Damn him! Damn Robert Denning, Marquess of Hetherington. How could she be expected to sleep peacefully knowing that he was under the same roof? Was he sleeping dreamlessly? Or was he restless too, troubled perhaps by his conscience? He did not appear to have one, but perhaps it troubled him in his sleep. The thought was somehow comforting.

A very disappointing encounter. It had had strong romantic possibilities. Not that he was much given to romance, it was true.

But there was also an inner welling of joy, reflected in the eyes of the man who gazed back at her—it was the first dance of the rest of their lives.

And he was Robert, the man she had always loved, the only man who had ever touched her, the only man she had ever wanted. And wanted now with a searing passion.

I will treat it as a fantasy. A romantic fantasy. I will make you fall in love with me all over again.

Don't be coy, Suzanne, he said, advancing into the room and moving to her back to reverse the process with the buttons that the maid had begun. Today I need you.

He had appeared so lighthearted most of the time. And it was his laughter, his teasing, and his smiling eyes that she had fallen in love with six years before.

Then he smiled into her eyes and asked, in the dry academic tones of an astronomer discussing a theoretical point with a colleague, 'How long do you suppose I can go on loving you more every day?' And he devised for her a calculus of love, which approached infinity as a limit, and made her smile again.

Do you know what made me fall in love with you? George asked suddenly. Anne shook her head, puzzled that he should ask her this now. I heard you laugh, down the hall, just before I got to Spanish class that first day. I couldn't see you. I just heard this fabulous laugh, like a whole octave, top to bottom. And I had to hear it again.

Stu asked me to marry him

I'd been in love dozens of times, but it was always the unrequited kind.

Today I'm Yours." It was a crude and romantic song. But human feeling is crude and romantic.

When you do try to picture the boys who do ask you out, they're absolutely featureless, like old carvings eroded by centuries of rain and wind.

Together we read Keats's letters to his lost beloved about how the stitches on a cap she made him went through him like a spear. I lace my fingers with his. The average non-poetry devotee may think the intensity around this stuff off-kilter at the least, but for us, it's like digging our hands together into a secret vat of pearls. In that realm only we are rich as any royalty.

Ezra kissed Ivy's right and then left palm. Your hands. Then he clasped both her hands between his. Ours

I want every piece of me to crash into every piece of you, I swear to god that's how they make stars.

One morning Diana came to work with a Barbara Cartland romance novel tucked under her arm. Coincidentally, Ms. Cartland was the mother of the Earl of Spencer's second wife, Raine, whom I was to learn years later in the press the Spencer children had detested at first. I hoped that novel did not represent Diana's only reading interests.

Nothing is so precious to a woman's heart as the glory and excellence of him she loves

Oh, come to me in dreams, my love! I will not ask a dearer bliss; Come with the starry beams, my love, And press mine eyelids with thy kiss.

he was to her a meteor, a companionless star, which at its appointed hour rose in her hemisphere, whose appearance brought felicity, and which although it set, was never eclipsed.

But they became every day more ardent and tender. It was a passion that had frown with his growth...