Quotes About Romance

kissing me with a violence that was terrifying and yet, somehow, the summit of all my tenderest dreams.

A story-book hero had by definition no place in life; he battered his way through twenty victorious chapters, faded out on a lustful kiss, and was gone for good.

There was one thing that stood like stone among the music and moonfroth of the evening's gaieties. It was stupid, it was terrifying, it was wonderful, but it had happened and I could do nothing about it. For better or worse, I was head over ears in love...

I desire the company of a man who could sympathize with me; whose eyes would reply to mine. You may deem me romantic, my dear sister, but I bitterly feel the want of a friend.

And then we'll go to Tiffany's and get you a ring. And then-- he turned swiftly to look into her fade-- when can we get married?

How does a girl act with boys, exactly?" Tacy asked. "Oh," said Betsy airily, "you just curl your hair and use a lot of perfume and act plagued when they tease you.

Romantic googling can be as dangerous as drunk text messaging. Of course hell hath no fury like a woman who Google-bombs her old flames name with a word like impotent.

WORTH IT and perfect are different things. No one's perfect, yet in romance, everyone becomes WORTH IT. And that's the trick.

The whole weak in the knees thing,which she always thought was just some idiotic expression back from the golden age of idiotic expressions,was real. -Suite Scarlett

Why Paris? Paris needs no reason. Paris is its own reason.

Kissing is something that makes up for a lot of other crap you have to put up with...It can be confusing and weird and awkward, but sometimes it just makes you melt and forget everything that is going on.

With that, I splashed some water on my face, fixed on a smile, and stepped out. I would find Jerome. I would make him explain to me what I was missing. We would laugh, then we would kiss with tongue, and all would be well.

You've never told me about your love life, Scarlett. You're a very pretty girl. You must have a boy shacked up somewhere for your personal delights. I'd bet it's a booky one, overtones of Harry Potter and a lot of black T-shirts.

There was the thing about romantic feelings- the sensation was incredible, like a warm flood through every highway and byway of her body. Every good chemical she could produce turned up, like some bountiful harvest. But the feelings and chemicals blocked out everything else. They dulled logic and sense and focus. They made everything else seem irrelevant and time started to move jerkily too fast, then too slow

Paris seemed to make good on the promise it made in every photograph of it she'd ever seen.

But here I was,quasi-boyfriend saying he wanted to take me on an actual date, and I was just staring at him impassively, like a horse watching a mime pretending to walk against the wind.

Love is in the air," Nate said quietly. "Love may be on top of your machine in a minute.

As they told it, all these people were involved with each other. There was a lot of hooking up and jealousy and breaking up and making up. Anyone could have been mad about what happened.

Paris needs no reason. Paris is its own reason.

She moved her hand and let it rest against his. He did not withdraw his fingers and he did not pretend indifference. She bent over, holding his hand, not raising it from his knee, and she pressed her lips to his hand. Her hat fell off, he saw the blond head at his knees, he felt her mouth kissing his hand again and again. His fingers held hers, answering, but that was the only answer.

But he had never been as happy as when he took her to fraternity dances. He had had many violent loves, when he swore he could not live without this girl or that; he forgot Catherine for weeks at a time and she never reminded him. He had always come back to her, suddenly, inexplicably, as he did tonight. Her

Again she repeated that she would never get married, never ever. She said that for her a man always existed in books, that she would spend the rest of her life with Mr. Darcy—even in the books, there were few men for her.

Again she repeated that she would never get married, never ever. She said that for her a man always existed in books, that she would spend the rest of her life with Mr. Darcy—even in the books, there were few men for her. What was wrong with that?

Right there in the middle of the road he took the cigarette out of my mouth and put it in his, then struck a match on his thumbnail and lit the two of them together, exactly like Humphrey Bogart. Then, ever so gently, he put the lit cigarette back in my lips. It seemed almost like we had kissed. Chills ran down my back, but I couldn't tell for sure if it was thrill chills or the creeps. Sometimes it is very hard to know the difference.