Quotes About Romance

Oh Lolita, you are my girl, as Vee was Poe's and Bea Dante's, and

Oh, Lolita, had you loved me thus!

This wonder was enhanced by my awareness of their not feeling what I felt, of their not seeing what I saw, of their taking Shade for granted, instead of drenching every nerve, so to speak, in the romance of his presence.

She was all rose and honey.

Un cambio de ambiente es la falacia tradicional sobre la cual descansan los amores -y los pulmones- condenados.

that the girl forms her ideals of romance and of men from her association with her father

I gave her to hold in her awkward fist the scepter of my passion

Blunders, gropings, disappointment; surely the Cupid serving him was left-handed, with a weak chin and no imagination. And alongside these feeble romances there had been hundreds of girls of whom he had dreamed but whom he had never got to know; they had just slid past him, leaving for a day or two that hopeless sense of loss which makes beauty what it is: a distant lone tree against golden heavens; ripples of light on the inner curve of a bridge; a thing quite impossible to capture

But that mimosa grove--the haze of stars, the tingle, the flame, the honey-dew, and the ache remained with me, and that little girl with her seaside limbs and ardent tongue haunted me ever since--until at last, twenty-four years later, I broke her spell by incarnating her in another.

She was soon ready, and they kissed tenderly in their hallway, between lift and stairs, before separating for a few minutes. 'Tower,' she murmured in reply to his questioning glance, just as she used to do on those honeyed mornings in the past, when checking up on happiness: 'And you?' 'A regular ziggurat.

I heard my sweetheart running up the stairs. My heart expanded with such force that it almost blotted me out. I hitched up the pants of my pajamas, flung the door open: and simultaneously Lolita arrived, in her Sunday frock, stamping, panting, and then she was in my arms, her innocent mouth melting under the ferocious pressure of dark male jaws, my palpitating darling!

I could not kill her, of course, as some have thought. You see, I loved her. It was love at first sight, at last sight, at ever and ever sight.

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. ... But in my arms she was always Lolita.

I dreamt of you last night—as if I was playing the piano and you were turning the pages for me.

All at once we were madly, clumsily, shamelessly, agonizingly in love with each other.

Fell in love with a beautiful blonde once. Drove me to drink. And I never had the decency to thank her.

Love, Oh, love is Such a strange disease. Love, Oh, love is Such a strange disease. When it hurts yo' heart you Sho can't find no ease.

We are a people captivated by the power and romance of metaphor, forever seeking the invisible through the image of the visible.

When I look into your eyes, one word leaps to my mind every time: Forever.

I want to kiss you again, Tess." "Why?" He chuckled, low under his breath. "Why? Because you're beautiful, and because I want you. And I think you want me too.

I never knew what it was to crave a woman's touch. Or to hunger for a woman's kiss." "And now you do?" she asked hesitantly. "Since I met you, Corinne Bishop, I've been thinking of little else.

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Jenna." Brock stroked the underside of her chin very gently, lifting her face up toward his. "Would it be all right if I kissed you?

Look at me Elise. Tell me what you think I'm feeling," he murmured, then bent his head to hers and pressed his mouth to her parted lips.