You two are too cute,” the counter girl said, setting two cups piled with whipped cream on the counter. She had a sort of lopsided, open smile that made me think she laughed a lot. “Seriously. How long have you been going out?”Sam let go of my hands to get his wallet and took out some bills. “Six years.”I wrinkled my nose to cover a laugh. Of course he would count the time that we’d been two entirely different species.Whoa.” Counter girl nodded appreciatively. “That’s pretty amazing for a couple your age."Sam handed me my hot chocolate and didn’t answer. But his yellow eyes gazed at me possessively—I wondered if he realized that the way he looked at me was far more intimate than copping a feel could ever be.I crouched to look at the almond bark on the bottom shelf in the counter. I wasn’t quite bold enough to look at either of them when I admitted, “Well, it was love at first sight.”The girl sighed. “That is just so romantic. Do me a favor, and don’t you two ever change. The world needs more love at first sight.
It starts so young, and I'm angry about that. The garbage we're taught. About love, about what's "romantic." Look at so many of the so-called romantic figures in books and movies. Do we ever stop and think how many of them would cause serious and drastic unhappiness after The End? Why are sick and dangerous personality types so often shown a passionate and tragic and something to be longed for when those are the very ones you should run for your life from? Think about it. Heathcliff. Romeo. Don Juan. Jay Gatsby. Rochester. Mr. Darcy. From the rigid control freak in The Sound of Music to all the bad boys some woman goes running to the airport to catch in the last minute of every romantic comedy. She should let him leave. Your time is so valuable, and look at these guys--depressive and moody and violent and immature and self-centered. And what about the big daddy of them all, Prince Charming? What was his secret life? We dont know anything about him, other then he looks good and comes to the rescue.
Falling in love is very real, but I used to shake my head when people talked about soul mates, poor deluded individuals grasping at some supernatural ideal not intended for mortals but sounded pretty in a poetry book. Then, we met, and everything changed, the cynic has become the converted, the sceptic, an ardent zealot.
Whatever happened to the dragon?"I mustered my primmest tone. "He has a name, you know."Adrian pulled back and gave me a curious look. "I didn't know, actually. What'd you decide on?""Hopper." When Adrian laughed, I added, "Best rabbit ever. He'd be proud to know his name is being passed on.""Yes, I'm sure he would. Did you name the Mustang too?""I think you mean the Ivashkinator."He stared at me in wonder. "I told you I loved you, right?"Yes," I assured him. "Many times.
Bet you can't even name one romantic movie you like," she teased.She felt smug when a few minutes went by and Oliver was still unable to name one romantic movie he could profess to enjoy.The Empire Strikes Back," Oliver finally declared, tapping his horn at a Prius that wandered over the line.The Empire Strikes Back? The Star Wars movie? That's not romantic!" Schuyler huffed, fiddling with the air conditioner controls.Au contraire, my dear, it's very romantic. The last scene, you know, when they're about to put Han in that freezing cryogenic chamber or whatever? Remember?"Schuyler mmm-hmmmed.And Leia leans over the ledge and says, 'I love you.'"That's cheesy, not romatic," Schuyler argued, although she did like that part.Let me explain. What's romantic is what Han says back. Remember what he says to her? After she says 'I love you'?"Schuyler grinned. Maybe Oliver had a point. "Han says, 'I know.'"Exactly," Oliver tapped the wheel. "He doesn't have to say anything so trite as 'I love you." Because that's already understood. And that's romantic.
I wanted to cry because I needed you there with me so bad. I knew in that moment that I was in love with you. I was in love with the way you loved me. When you wrapped your arms around me and held me, I knew that no matter what happened with my life, you were my home. You stole the biggest piece of my heart that night.
They'll say you are bador perhaps you are mador at least you should stay undercover.Your mind must be bareif you would dareto think you can love more than one lover.
Ô, Wanderess, WanderessWhen did you feel your most euphoric kiss? Was I the source of your greatest bliss?
Oh, he did look like a deity – the perfect balance of danger and charm, he was at the same time fascinating and inaccessible, distant because of his demonstrated flawlessness, and possessing such strength of character that he was dismaying and at the same time utterly attractive in an enticing and forbidden way.
Our lips were for each other and our eyes were full of dreams. We knew nothing of travel and we knew nothing of loss. Ours was a world of eternal spring, until the summer came.
Ô, Muse of the Heart’s Passion,let me relive my Love’s memory,to remember her body, so brave and so free,and the sound of my Dreameress singing to me,and the scent of my Dreameress sleeping by me,Ô, sing, sweet Muse, my soliloquy!
Self-observation is simply the observation of an internal state and an external event. It is pure awareness, which gives one the ability to choose one's actions. Only by having the choice can one perform what is right.
Sweetheart, darling, dearest, it was funny to think that these endearments, which used to sound exceedingly sentimental in movies and books, now held great importance, simple but true verbal affirmations of how they felt for each other. They were words only the heart could hear and understand, words that could impart entire pentameter sonnets in their few, short syllables.
While she could hardly fathom what had just happened to her that night, she reached some conclusions before she fell asleep, certain things now made perfect sense; Moon River didn’t sound so syrupy, mistletoe wasn’t such a bad idea, and perhaps dating was not such a frivolous waste of time after all.
When she opened her door, Levi was sitting in the hallway, his legs bent in front of him, hunched forward on his knees. He looked up when she stepped out.“I’m such an idiot,” he said.Cath fell between his knees and hugged him.“I can’t believe I said that,” he said. “I can’t even go nine hours without seeing you.
LIFE - Death's Very Emissary
Everybody needs to be good-natured with a good heart, because in this way we can solve our own problems as well as those of others, and we can make our human life meaningful.
We do not recognize that we are addicted to some negative psychological habit, some terribly self-destructive patterns of thinking...
We are living a fantasy life in our heads, and our real life is passing by, moment by moment.Life is only lived in moments: anything else is a fantasy, a lie, an illusion.
Karma is a balance sheet of life which debits and credit all your deeds.YourWhich is audited by our creator and actions are based on what we accumulated in it.
Karma is the balance sheet of life which debits and credit all your deeds.YourWhich is audited by our creator and actions are based on what we accumulated in it.
We create karma by all kinds of selfish actions.The first thing we must understand is that we are psychologically asleep.It is very difficult for us to be conscious of ourselves. We are not very aware. We must come to recognize that we do not pay attention.
Desires and Karma are the worst enemies living in the same soul together. It depends on us whom we choose and feed.
Love wins when reflections win over reflexes.
In the end, you will realize most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly.
Every person has his secret; in reverie, unbeknown to others, he finds peace, freedom, sorrow and love.
My heart is burning a hole in my chest and every time you speak to me, it keeps sinking, and I'm left with nothing but ashes. I wish she were talking to me, because the more she speaks to me, the more my heart flutters like a rising phoenix.-Karen Quan and Jarod Kintz
She doesn’t need the pack. She doesn’t need me.”I shot to my feet. “That’s not true,” I said hotly.He tilted his head a little, his eyes meeting mine. His eyes softened. “I misspoke,” he said in a steady voice. “She doesn’t need me to make sure she has enough food or a place to live-that is my privilege, but she doesn’t need me to do that. She doesn’t need me to keep her safe or to make her a whole person. She doesn’t need me to do anything except love her. Which I do.
I stepped closer still. He closed his eyes again and covered my hand with his own. 'You smell of violets. You always smell of violets,' he said. 'You've no idea how many times I have walked these moors and smelled them and thought you were near. On and on I walked, following the scent of you, and you were never there. When I saw you in the hall tonight, I thought I had finally gone mad.
I would be consumed by you,' she said, and blinked her eyes furiously when she felt them fill with tears. 'You would sap all the energy and all the joy from me. You would put out all the fire of my vitality.''Give me a chance to fan the flames of that fire,' he said, 'and to nurture your joy.
When I was twelve, my sixth-grade English class went on a field trip to see Franco Zeffirelli’s film adaptation of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. From that moment forward I dreamed that someday I’d meet my own Juliet. I’d marry her and I would love her with the same passion and intensity as Romeo. The factthat their marriage lasted fewer than three days before they both were deaddidn’t seem to affect my fantasy. Even if they had lived, I don’t think theirrelationship could have survived. Let’s face it, being that emotionally aflame, sexually charged, and transcendentally eloquent every single second can really start to grate on a person’s nerves. However, if I could find someone to love just a fraction of the way that Montague loved his Capulet, then marrying her would be worth it.
I don't know who he was," Kavita flat-out states, "but whoever he was he sure did a number on you, didn't he?"Mary leans forward to ensure he would see her deviant stare. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe I did a number on him?"Kavita leans in closer as well, and with that same deviant expression, "Yes. I have.
… Looking at her, I think I know better what romantic love is.”… she asked, “What is it?”“It is parental love,” he answered thoughtfully. “Wanting to protect and keep the other person safe. As well as the love of friendship - esteeming the other person, even desiring each other’s company beyond all others. And it is lust,” he said, meeting her eyes, and was rewarded with seeing them darken, her breath becoming slightly unsteady, one little word jerking her out of her clinical assessment. He smiled, a predatory, seductive grin. “The physical needing of the other person, the quickened pulse, the sweaty heat.” His hand, which still rested on hers, began slowly moving, his fingers dancing over her skin. “Combining them makes the result greater than its individual parts. Because it produces something else. It creates … a steadiness. A strength. I can’t explain it well - being only an outside observer - but I only know that out of my friends' relationships, my sister‘s marriage is the epitome of grace.
And so, in silence, we walked the surface of a dying world, but in the breast of one of us at least had been born that which is ever oldest, yet ever new.I loved Dejah Thoris. The touch of my arm upon her naked shoulder had spoken to me in words I would not mistake, and I knew that I had loved her since the first moment my eyes had met hers that first time in the plaza of the dead city of Korad.
My mom believed that you make your own luck. Over the stove she had hung these old, maroon painted letters that spell out, “MANIFEST.” The idea being if you thought and dreamed about the way you wanted your life to be -- if you just envisioned it long enough, it would come into being.But as hard as I had manifested Astrid Heyman with her hand in mine, her blue eyes gazing into mine, her lips whispering something wild and funny and outrageous in my ear, she had remained totally unaware of my existence. Truly, to even dream of dreaming about Astrid, for a guy like me, in my relatively low position on the social ladder of Cheyenne Mountain High, was idiotic. And with her a senior and me a junior? Forget it. Astrid was just lit up with beauty: shining blonde ringlets, June sky blue eyes, slightly furrowed brow, always biting back a smile, champion diver on the swim team. Olympic level. Hell, Astrid was Olympic level in every possible way.
I am not sleeping with you.""We could probably manage it, though. Without getting too involved.""No," she said."But why? I mean, if we're trusted friends? And it doesn't interfere with our responsibilities?""Did that line ever actually work for you?""I can't remember. But it probably did-it's brilliant.
Le golpeé el abdomen mientras me reía.—¿Por qué eres tan cruel?—Porque si te digo que todo estará bien, te estaría mintiendo. Es lo lógico que extrañes a alguien que quisiste tanto, con quien compartiste parte de tu vida y frente a quien te desnudaste y no me refiero solamente al cuerpo. Pero es la forma en la que tu cerebro procesa la ausencia, vas a estar triste, tendrás recuerdos, añoranzas, maldecirás y te mentirás para sentirte mejor. Debes vivirlo, dejarlo salir, gritar, llorar… sacarlo de ti. Pero, lo peor que puedes hacer es darle más importancia de la necesaria. No te encierres ni te aísles. Habla, con tus amigos, conmigo o con los gatos. —¿Quién eres? —Le puyé el brazo.—La respuesta a tu S.O.S. Tu rescatista. Vamos.
—No te disculpes por besarme —me ruboricé enseguida—. Hay un millón de cosas malas que requieren una disculpa, pero un beso no es una de ellas. Nunca un beso puede ser una herida, un beso dice más que un montón de palabras. Y parece que lo que querías decirme no encajaba en ninguna frase, no te preocupes, entendí todo lo que tus labios le dijeron a los míos.
—Te traje algo que te va a hacer alucinar.—No le entro a las drogas. —Fingí enfado y junté las cejas.—Nunca dejas de estar a la defensiva.—Culpa a tu amigo que me enseñó a estar siempre “en guardia”.—Prueba esto y terminarás amándome.—Ten cuidado con lo que deseas, chato. Porque soy de las que lleva el amor a los extremos.—Una chica intensa y peligrosa.—Ya ves que me paso la vida entre el nunca y el siempre.
No me podía engañar, no cuando apenas si lo nombraba con Marcelo porque necesitaba decir su nombre, volver a acariciarlo en mis labios. Sentir que aún me quedaba algún derecho a sentir mío lo nuestro solo con hablar de lo que fue nuestra relación. Algún día dejaría de hacerlo, algún día dejaría de hablar de él cuando nadie me escuchaba. Solo era un ítem más a mi lista de tareas. Todos estamos llenos de olvidos pendientes.
—¿Qué quería? —dije tan fresca como pude. Pero sin mirarla, sin girarme.—Supongo que hablar contigo, justificarse el muy gilipollas —Grace lo odiaba y de su odio hay que cuidarse. Si quería vengarme de Marc solo debía asentir y ella lo entendería. En dos días los medios hablarían de cualquier cosa que lo desprestigiara y estaría acabado. No era la periodista de más peso, el periódico del que era editora era muy respetable. Pero ella no iba a exponerse, la chica tiene enchufe. Que lo diga yo que gracias a sus contactos trabajaba donde trabajaba.—Ya. ¿Qué le dijiste?—Que se largara si no quería que clavara el tacón de mis zapatos en sus elitistas y traicioneros huevos.Tragué saliva, casi me reí.Era capaz, de Grace me esperaba todo.—¿Qué zapatos tenías?—Unos Louboutin muy puntiagudos.Imaginar la escena me hizo gracia. Seguro que Marc le miró los zapatos primero.—Los únicos que tienes e ibas a perderlos así…—Nunca podrían haber sido mejor usados, te lo aseguro.—Imagino que tu amenaza lo mantendrá a raya —soné muy borde, no era mi intención. Tampoco la de retractarme.—No lo sé, pero Salo se encargó de darle un par de dolorosas razones para no volver. Aunque ya sabemos que el cabrón tiene más cara que espalda.
She was a ray of sunshine, a warm summer rain, a bright fire on a cold winter’s day, and now she could be dead because she had tried to save the man she loved.
Oh honey, someday a real man is going to make you see stars and you won't even be looking at the sky." Excerpt from Grace Willow's Last Minute Bride
You are enough to drive a saint to madness or a king to his knees.
You are enough to drive a saint to madness or a king to his kneesExcerpt from To Kiss a King by Grace WillowsComing this summer to Amazon Kindle and paperback.
Although they probably know that some children were used and some children are used as miners, most adults are ignorant of the chocolate industry’s use of minors.
He who sacrifices his respect for love basically burns his body to obtain the light.
Everything around us is made up of matter so small, its mass cannot be written down. You're either an atom, or a cell. These things are super small, but they join and function together to create something powerful. It reminds me of love; its always the small things that are done that makes a person feel like they're made of something.
The season was waning fastOur nights were growing cold at lastI took her to bed with silk and song,'Lay still, my love, I won’t be long;I must prepare my body for passion.''O, your body you give, but all else you ration.''It is because of these dreams of a sylvan scene:A bleeding nymph to leave me serene...I have dreams of a trembling wench.''You have dreams,' she said, 'that cannot be quenched.''Our passion,' said I, 'should never be feared;As our longing for love can never be cured.Our want is our way and our way is our will,We have the love, my love, that no one can kill.''If night is your love, then in dreams you’ll fulfill...This love, our love, that no one can kill.'Yet want is my way, and my way is my will,Thus I killed my love with a sleeping pill.
Un soir qu'ils étaient couchés l'un près de l'autre, comme elle lui demandait d'inventer un poème qui commencerait par je connais un beau pays, il s'exécuta sur-le-champ. Je connais un beau pays Il est de l'or et d'églantine Tout le monde s'y sourit Ah quelle aventure fine Les tigres y sont poltrons Les agneaux ont fière mine À tous les vieux vagabonds Ariane donne des tartines. Alors, elle lui baisa le la main, et il eut honte de cette admiration.
Moon, that against the lintel of the westYour forehead lean until the gate be swung,Longing to leave the world and be at rest,Being worn with faring and no longer young,Do you recall at all the Carian hillWhere worn with loving, loving late you lay,Halting the sun because you lingered still,While wondering candles lit the Carian day?Ah, if indeed this memory to your mindRecall some sweet employment, pity me,That even now the dawn's dim herald see!I charge you, goddess, in the name of oneYou loved as well: endure, hold off the sun.
Understanding knowledge as an essential element of love is vital because we are bombarded daily with messages that tell us love is about mystery, about that which cannot be known. We see movies in which people are represented as being in love who never talk with one another, who fall into bed without ever discussing their bodies, their sexual needs, their likes and dislikes. Indeed, the message is received from the mass media is that knowledge makes love less compelling; that it is ignorance that gives love its erotic and transgressive edge. These messages are brought to us by profiteering producers who have no clue about the art of loving, who substitute their mystified visions because they do not really know how to genuinely portray loving interaction.
Memories of the past are what drive us, whether to a life of beauty or a life of insanity is up to us.
In the end all the puzzles of your life will be solved ,until then... laugh at the scepticism, live for the moment and remember everything happens for a reason.
Strong people don't put others down. They lift them up and slam them on the ground for maximum damage.
Every interaction is an opportunity to learn, Only if we are interested in improving rather than proving.
Life is a university, you will keep learning new things all the time. The tombstone will be your degree.Make sure it's worth a fortune for those who admire you.
Life's too short to wake up in the morning with regrets, So ... Love the people who treat you right and pray for the ones who don't. Life is 10% what you make it 90% how you take it.
Life is about the moments you create, that you can keep it with you FOREVER. After everything is over,That is what we have or what we are left with.
A person with good heart is always happy. However its a myth because most of the time his heart is full of wounds as it except only good thing from others still he love the people who treat it right & pray for the ones who don't
Life is about the moments you create,that you can keep with you forever.After everything is over,That is what we have or what we are left with.
Love is what makes two people sit in the middle of a bench when there is plenty of room at both ends. Love means nothing in tennis,But it's everything in life
If someone talks bad about us, we feel bad. If someone talks good about us we feel good. The question is ,Have we given our remote to others for the way we feel?Live your life in your way!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
For a happy life,it's best we should ignore &overlook things,people,incidents,affairs & matters.It is not necessary that we show a reaction to everything. Step back & ask yourself if the matter is really worth responding to.
If we try to see something positive in everything we do, life won't necessarily become easier but it becomes more valuable.
A lot of pain that we are dealing with are really only THOUGHTS.
The most important subject in the curriculum in the future years will be how to love ourselves and be content.
Literacy rate tells us about the section of society who can read and write, but do we have a tool which can share the stats about out how many educated illiterates we have in our society.
Tenderhearted people are silent sufferers they just learn the art to fly with broken wings.
There's a story behind every "I don't believe in love""Period
Its not your fault for not being there.Its my fault for thinking you would be
We live in a society where every business has a huge scope. Even if you open a shop selling snakes people will buy it. Thinking they will direct them to their neighbors house.
Create your own path.Don't blindly follow the massess... because most of the time the "M" is silent.
Your friends can be double-edged knife thy can either nurture you or destroy you. Choose them Wisely......
Growing older doesn't mean that you are more mature than everyone who is younger than you. Maturity is a lot of things, and age has nothing to do with it.
The Dictionary defines Soul Mate as: A person who is perfectly suited to another in temperament. Before I met mine, I didn't know I was bonkers!
There are few things more mysterious than endings. I mean, for example, when did the Greek gods end, exactly? Was there a day when Zeus waved magisterially down from Olympus and Aphrodite and her lover Ares, and her crippled husband Hephaestus ) I always felt sorry for him), and all the rest got rolled up like a worn-out carpet?
Jean grinned down at her, and she handed him something in a small silk bag.'What's this?''Lock of my hair, ' she said. 'Meant to give it to you days ago, but we got busy with all the raiding. You know. Piracy. Hectic life. ''Thank you, love, ' he said.'Now, if you find yourself in trouble wherever you go, you can hold up that little bag to whoever's bothering you, and you can say, "You have no idea who you're fucking with. I'm under the protection of the lady who gave me this object of her favour. "''And that's supposed to make them stop?''Shit no, that's just to confuse them. Then you kill them while they're standing there looking at you funny.
What are we talking about again?” he asks.I say science at the same time that he says love, and we both laugh.“What are the ingredients?” he prompts me again.“Mutual self-interest and socioeconomic compatibility.”“Do you even have a soul?”“No such thing as a soul,” I say.
Go out with me tomorow night," Perry went on. "Let me prove to you that I'm the guy you want.""I...I guess I coul go out tomorrow night," Miranda sounded shocked and a little swept off her feet.Then, from the corner of her eyes. Kylie saw something move at the office window. When she looked back, she spotted Burnett and Holiday standing there high-fiving each other. No doubt Burnett was listening to the coversation and sharing the details with Holiday.Perry nodded, stepped closer, and then pressed a quick kiss on Miranda's cheek. It had to be the most romantic thing Kylie had ever seen. ..."What?" Miranda asked. "You're happy my date [with Todd] wasn't exciting?" "No," Kylie said. "Let's just say we're more excited about tomorrow night's date."A bright smile lit up Miranda's face. "Me too. Can you believ Perry did that? I mean, he was so...""Romantic," Kylie said."Hot," Della added."Sweet," Miranda whispered. "I couldn't stop thinkibng about him all night."And that was the best news Kylie had gotten all day.
I look around, hoping I can postpone the indignity of stuttering like a lunatic in front of the sexiest man alive – according to People magazine, twice – while giving him crazy eyes. Of course, everyone looks like they’re taken care of. Except for Mr. Sexypants, major Hollywood actor, Nathanial Stone, Sir.
How easily such a thing can become a mania, how the most normal and sensible of women once this passion to be thin is upon them, can lose completely their sense of balance and proportion and spend years dealing with this madness.
Imagine, if you will:Meradinis!The stuff myths are made of! The Turtle Island of the stars – home planet to the fearsome and once legendary Corsairs. The very name of this world immediately grabbed the imaginations of young boys and girls, and universally mesmerize dreamers and romantics alike. The truth though was less romantic – and as reality so often demonstrates in real life - instead rather ugly and brutal. The Corsairs were not corn-ball comics that went about with parrots on their shoulders, saying “Arr!” to everything they encountered. They were anything but. Behind the Corsairs and their culture lay a history fraught with a struggle to survive, a vengefulness and a cruelty – and a drive to survive by preying upon others that struck fear into the hearts of neighboring fringe worlds.
Ô, the wine of a womanfrom heaven is sent, more perfect than allthat a man can invent.When she came to my bed and begged me with sighsnot to tempt her towards passion nor actions unwise, I told her I’d spare her and kissed her closed eyes, then unbraided her body of its clothing disguise.While our bodies were nude bathed in candlelight fineI devoured her mouth, tender lips divine;and I drank through her thighs her feminine wine.Ô, the wine of a woman from heaven is sent,more perfect than all that a man can invent.
Ô, the wine of a woman from heaven is sent,more perfect than all that a man can invent.
To a woman sexual intimacy is more a tool to get mentally close to her partner than merely a means to physical pleasure.
Sex is not just about going in or letting in, it is really about welcoming your dearly beloved into the deepest regions of your psyche which are inaccessible to anybody else.
Sexual intimacy is not the destination, it is the path - the path that leads to mental union.
We start a relationship with someone not only because of how great they are but how great they make us feel. And because they have granted us this extraordinary gift—a chance to experience love, joy, compassion, and security —it is our exclusive privilege to make them feel wonderful about themselves, especially during days when they, themselves, don't feel so wonderful.
You say 'love' too easily, Kepler.""No, not rally - please don't call me that. The idea that love has to be a blazing romantic thing of monogamous stability is innately ludicrous. You loved your parents, perhaps, because they were the warmth you could flee to. You loved your first childhood crush with a passion that made your lips tingle, your flesh grow light in their presence. You loved your wife with the steadiness of an ocean against the shore; your lover with the blaze of a shooting star, your best friend with the confidence of a mountain. Love is a many-splendorous thing, as the old song says....
In movies, war only looks romantic. “Tell my gal I love her…” close-up shot, and fade out. It doesn’t work as beautifully and neat in real life. Flying chunks of human flesh and screaming orphans really put that Hollywood take into perspective and there is nothing clean or sterile about any of it. When people die, it’s fucking horrible.
All the colours in the rainbow don't compare, With one look in your impossible eyes, And I walked into the trap with my eyes wide shut, But I never knew what it would be like. All the plans were made, In the wooded glade, Where your body was split wide open, And I count to ten, As the race begins, Round your hairpin bends. Sometimes I feel I'll float away, Sometimes I feel I'll float away, Sometimes I feel I'll float away, Without you to hold me. I can't count the times I forgot my lines, And you pretended that you didn't know, Let me take you through each stage of the male mistake, And we'll adopt our natural roles. And I need you more, Than you need to be needed, So I sign my will one stab at a time, And I count to ten, As the race begins, Round your hairpin bends. Sometimes I feel I'll float away, Sometimes I feel I'll float away, Sometimes I feel I'll float away, Without you to hold me. Sometimes I feel I'll float away, Sometimes I feel I'll float away, Sometimes I feel I'll float away, Without you to hold me. Away, away, away, away ".
Cal: “I’m not presuming. I know exactly what you think about me. You think I’m an anal-retentive Armrest Nazi . . . an arrogant Modelizer. You can’t stand the way I talk, any of the subjects I choose to talk about, the imperious manner I order food in restaurants or tell cab drivers how much we owe them. You find my taste in women odious, the fact that I don’t own a television an unforgivable sin, and the fact that I would choose to write a book about Saudi Arabia completely unfathomable. And you’re also totally in love with me. If you weren’t you wouldn’t have pushed me into the pool earlier today when you saw Grazi walk in.”Every Boy's Got One
Some women have kissed—and some are kissing—a lot of frogs, even though the very first man that they have each kissed was and is still a prince.
Taking good care of your husband or wife is the best way to thank their parent or parents for having taken good care of them.
Men know that most women want to have an emotional connection with someone before they sleep with them. Men know that a lot of women think it's romantic to be friends first, and then the friendship blossoms into a relationship. Men know that they have to jump through all these hoops first, before they can get laid. And that's really all romance and courtship is to a man: hoops he has to jump through to get laid.
This boy," he said, indicating the paintings with one sweep of his arms, "was romantic. He thought that it was beauty that bound everything together. And for him it was true. Life had been beautiful for him. He was very young. He knew very little of life. He saw beauty but he did not feel any true passion. How could he? He did not know. He had not really encountered the force of beauty's opposite.""Are you more cynical now, then?" she asked him."Cynical," he frowned, "No, not that. I know that there is an ugly side of life-and not just human life. I know that everything is not simply beautiful. I am not a romantic as this boy was. But I am not a cynic either. There is something enduring in all of life, Anne, something tough. Something. Something terribly weak yet incredibly powerful...
Beauty is irrelevant to human life, especially in a relationship. What you today perceive as beautiful and special, over time, becomes not so special. That’s how the human brain works. It is not beauty that keeps a relationship alive, it is attachment. Without attachment, a naked body is merely a lifeless sex toy.
Beauty is an illusion, created by Mother Nature to drive the human species in the path of reproduction. In reality, beauty is irrelevant to human life, especially in a relationship. What you today perceive as beautiful and special, over time, becomes not so special. That’s how the human brain works. It is not beauty that keeps a relationship alive, it is attachment. Without attachment, a naked body is merely a lifeless sex toy.
Romance and romantic are different. Death, itself, can be romantic. Nature and a destructive snowstorm can be romantic. Lovers in love but giving that up can also be romantic. There is something aesthetically romantic in beauty itself. And beauty can even be pain. Therefore, pain is romantic, especially when the sufferer does so for love.
And I thought, I am in love. For the first time I am in love. And loved. Someone loves me. And I love them. And within me things clicked and whirled like the insides of some gigantic clock, cog against wheel, spring against spiral, tick against tock, and I knew that nothing would ever be the same again. I had shown someone what I really was. I had shown someone my truth, my secret. Out there, beyond the walls of the Castle, there was a boy who had seen inside my chrysalis. And I would never be safe again.
She's it. She's my everything. She's the standard by which I'll judge beauty for the rest of my life. I'll measure every touch to her breath on my skin. Every voice to her voice. Every mind to her mind. My measure of perfection. The name carved into me. If I could, I would lie with her under these stars until my heart burst.
Together, we form a necessary paradox; not a senseless contradiction.
Everything I have become,everything I will ever accomplishcannot compare to my mostimpressive feat:I have loved youfiercelyand assiduouslywith the very marrowinside my bones. So that when I die, they can crack them to findyou there. So that when I die, they can open me upand see your name tattooed on the wall of my heart.So that when I die, my epitaph will neither commemoratewho I wasnor what I did, but will read:“She loved.And loved. And loved.”And so, I smile now,because that is no small thing.
I open my eyes. I want to know:what is in the abyss of a kiss? Are stars born in these black caves that house bated breaths and unspoken words? Do our souls crawl on these tender cheeks to greet one another by ivory gates? What happens when we kiss?Where do you go?Don’t tell me. For I have lost my desire to know. Kiss me so that I forget myself. I close my eyes and fall in the abyss.
Just one caress became a symphony of passion, insatiable longing, an unquenchable desire to possess.... Gasps... The sparkling touch, embrace make hard to breathe... A mere short burst of brilliance, explosive need...forbidden sweet... Beneath the warmth of a dancing rainbow summer sunset, slowly tuning into the magic night with the stars flooding the sapphire skies...the sacred emerald island wildlife listens to our song, played with loving fingertips, reflected in diving deep into each other's ocean eyes...
Tipani flower skies blazing rapture of color laced tree crowns silhouettes along the ocean diamond necklaced beach...of my heart in fragrance of love spilled by caressing kisses of the sun opening the gates to dive deep through away to horizons with no return...
ACTS OF LOVELove is not a wordOr a thought.It is the name forAn actionThat breathes from its light.What do you DOIn Love's name?And is it only doneOutside In the light?Or with an innerFlameIlluminatingLove'sTRUEName?I want to know.Are your actionsDone by remoteOr withSOUL?And when you sayYou love someone,Does a light go offInside at all?What haveYOUDoneIn theName ofLOVE?Because,Really,I want to know.
The only principle which will make you more content, less bitter is to live a life that has "Less excuses, more results. Less distraction, more focus. Less me, more we. Live with "Gratitude" not with "Greytitude
Infatuated painted clouds, enamored of our silky bed-lagoon, reflect with silent tremors your sweetest of the kisses...whispers...then lightly consume its shining sunset skin with loving smiles greeting the lacy starry night ahead...making our senses dance so softly stepping on to the adorn petals of the place no one else knows...
Echo of the waves appears in the sky, their lights reflected in your eyes. I'm back in our world and happy again. The sound of your voice, compassionate embrace... The power in your touch, serenity of stride... The beating of your heart calms down my presence, gracing with eternal peace of mind... Bathing in the sunshine of your arms I'm deeply aware of the melodic stream that has no language...gliding beneath the quiet Heaven of your eyes...
Stop explaining to others, people will only understand from their level of discernment.
Fear is the most prodigious enemy of our soul
Respect is reverence out of love, Fear is reverence out of hate.Choose Wisely
Back home, Huxley drew from this experience to compose a series of audacious attacks against the Romantic love of wilderness. The worship of nature, he wrote, is "a modern, artificial, and somewhat precarious invention of refined minds." Byron and Wordsworth could only rhapsodize about their love of nature because the English countryside had already been "enslaved to man." In the tropics, he observed, where forests dripped with venom and vines, Romantic poets were notably absent. Tropical peoples knew something Englishmen didn't. "Nature," Huxley wrote, "is always alien and inhuman, and occasionally diabolic." And he meant always: Even in the gentle woods of Westermain, the Romantics were naive in assuming that the environment was humane, that it would not callously snuff out their lives with a bolt of lightning or a sudden cold snap. After three days amid the Tuckamore, I was inclined to agree.
When tenderness softened her heart, and the sublime feeling of universal love penetrated her, she found no voice that replied so well to hers as the gentle singing of the pines under the air of noon, and the soft murmurs of the breeze that scattered her hair and freshened her cheek, and the dashing of the waters that has no beginning or end.
I have heard it said that one loses a woman by loving her too much, that an affectation of coldness, from time to time, brings better results. And so on. I shall play no such tricks with you … Let love be truly love—that is, let it be peace—or let it not exist at all.
But it may be asked, could a man of real honor give his hand to one woman, while his heart was in the possession of another? In most cases of a similar description this question may be easily answered: in the present one, general conclusions, drawn from received opinions, will probably prove erroneous.
For breakfast to be called ‘in bed’ instead of ‘on top of a bed,’ the house in which it is about to be eaten has to have at least two rooms (excluding the kitchen); (at least) three, if it has a bathroom.
I took her in my arms and kissed her.And thus in the midst of a city of wild conflict, filled with the alarms of war; with death and destruction reaping their terrible harvest around her, did Dejah Thoris, Princess of Helium, true daughter of Mars, the God of War, promise herself in marriage to John Carter, Gentleman of Virginia.
Sometimes even a "Yes" can be fatal for our Souls
Its all about perception in life, For some One minus One = One & for some its Zero.That's the only difference.
In the end it will be your “Actions” “Convictions” & “Thoughts” which will determine how you shaped your life.
How long you will live in your dreams? The time is now, it's better to go and follow them..
Opportunity comes to everyone it depends on you whether you take it or leave it. Learn to take risks and play hard because at the end you'd be thankful for your struggle.
When you are stressed and challenged by hardships just smile through it as frowning won’t help in changing the situation
We all have this perfect little image of who we want to be, but it is unnecessary. Throw the image away. You're already you just be the best version of yourself.
No matter how much struggle you face in your journey towards success, someday you will look back and realize your struggles changed your life for the better.
Don’t keep those people in your life who are completely negative in approach. Eventually these people will stress you out and be the source of your downfall.
Don't ask creator to guide your footsteps if you're not willing to move your feet.
There’s a pause so yawning I can’t help but think about what it would be like to lean in and kiss her, but if I’m getting the signals wrong then I’m about to destroy the best run we’ve had all evening. It’s been at least ten minutes since I’ve done or said anything stupid.
What was that? Valentine's Day? Her heart gave a little skip at the thought, she had never spent it in a romantic way before, usually the day meant sending and receiving cute Cupid cards and heart shaped sugar candies, but it was all in a platonic celebration of friendship. This time, it would not be like that, it would be ... special.
Love is the reflection of a broken heart in a shattered mirror...
Smiling is not a choice It’s a Lifestyle Pass it on
To be successful in life , Plan, Implement, Revise, Update, and Build on Change.
Passion + Vision +Skill + Mentoring = Success.
Start wherever you are! Low hanging fruit really tastes as good as the high stuff.
A lie near to truth is always difficult to catch
Pray GOD by HEART, Not by HABIT.
To enjoy a peaceful & Beautiful Life We should open our 'EYE' and Close our 'I
Have and show motivation to do and learn. That's the key for a good career. Everything else is an extrapolation of that.
Theres no competition in DESTINY. Run your own RACE and wish others WELL!!!
The only enemy which stands between the talent you posses and success you achieve is known as "EGO" in our Society
The most important principle for self discovery and to taste success is rather than changing other's attitude changes your own. And always remember same sun which melts the butter also hardens the clay
The only way to be content in life is to make sure your NEED don't become GREED.
No body is a looser either he is a Winner or a Learner
Being Wise & Being Smart are two different things anyone can be smart but those who master the art of knowing what to overlook in this journey called life deserves to be called Wise
The only goal in life is to be happy, genuinely, intensely and consistently , regardless of what it looks like to others.
Find answers in your weakness and surprise in your strength and always remember the golden rule every failure has HOPES
The only principle of Success in Life :"You must be present to win.
It’s all about “Priorities” There's No Such Thing as "Busy
Don’t be afraid of failures it takes courage to try new things & only those who try create History.
Live a life that leaves a memory, nobody can steal.
If you are depressed, you are living in the past. If you are anxious, you are living in the future. If you are at peace, you are living in the present.
The only unreachable dream is the one you don’t reach for.
The thing about our choices is that after we have made them, they turn around and make us.
True Relations never break and relation which breaks were never true
Living your life is a task so difficult it has never been attempted before.
What seems like the right thing to do could also be the hardest thing you have ever done in your life
Always follow your dreams with confidence and conviction, don’t fall for the trap of dream killers
Life is too short to be anything but happy. So kiss slowly. Love deeply. Forgive quickly. Take chances and never have regrets. Forget the past but remember what it taught you.
Time change - Moments don't.
Life is a do-it-yourself project.
THE Biggest enemy of Truth is known as Facts in our Society
A wise man is someone who knows how to convert obstacles into resources.
For all those who say its a Man world. Respect Women Its their World we are just guest here
MISUNDERSTANDING" arises only when you see the things with Closed Eyes
The only difference between success and failure is Lack of Vision
Two powerful factors which creates difference between destroying your relationship and deepening it are EGO and Attitude
TAKE Risk because you never know how absolutely perfect something could turn out to be..
As long as we have MEMORIES, yesterday REMAINS and as long as we have HOPE, tomorrow AWAITS...
YOU have to design your own Price tag for the world.
Only Boiled Seeds are afraid of failure.
No matter what goals you set to accomplish always remember there is a thing known as Life which you should never forget to live and enjoy
Don’t be afraid of failures it takes courage to try new things & only those who try create miracles.
If you are depressed, you are living in the past. If you are anxious, you are living in the future
IF you want to be a winner than follow one simple rule and feed it in your mind. Take each task and work as " Do it yourself project.
Sometimes life is like living in a chamber of Liquid Oxygen. Liquid don't allow you to live and Oxygen don't let you die.
You have something else of mine, Miss Wakefield,” he amended. “I believe you meant to borrow it and return it directly, but you never did return . . . my heart. It’s been in your possession since our first meeting.”She drew in a staggered breath, daring to hope.“Though without a heart, one might wonder how I came to be here, standing before you right now,” he went on, making her heard spin again. “Do you wonder, Miss Wakefield?”When she nodded, he grinned and placed her hand over his chest.“There is a heart in here, but it is not mine. You see, I believe you made a dire mistake our first meeting. When you meant to return mine, instead you gave me yours. Doesn’t it beat strangely beneath my breast?
I write romance stories and although I want it to be a beautiful work of art, I am afraid that I will live in the story I created in my mind. It's all in my mind I know, but sometimes, the romance becomes too ideal and realistic for me that I soon fall for the hero that was just a product of my imagination. I think that is both an fearful obstacle and a proof that somehow, you are succeeding to touch a reader's heart - even if it is yours.
I write romance stories and although I want it to be a beautiful work of art, I am afraid that I will live in the story I created in my mind. It's all in my mind I know, but sometimes, the romance becomes too ideal and realistic for me that I soon fall for the hero that was just a product of my imagination. I think that is both a fearful obstacle and a proof that somehow, you are succeeding to touch a reader's heart - even if it is yours.
Why?"He stopped pacing and looked at her as if she'd just asked him to count every leaf on every tree in the Old Place. "Because... you're you.
Have you ever been in a situation where you had to choose between your loved ones, knowing that whatever you decided, you would have to lie to one of them?’‘Yes. More than once.’ Elijah’s words sounded far too cold in the sudden silence. His finely chiselled face tensed up and his eyes grew cold. ‘And before you ask, I chose you every time.
But life is beautiful, Sariel!’ Gabriel said, trying to convince him. ‘Watch the sunrise sometime lying in the scented flowers of the field, or the shooting stars at the end of summer! Read a couple of really exciting books or lose yourself in the unselfconscious smiles of children. Have a swim in a clear mountain lake or take a run among trees clothed in autumn colours. If you can see the good in Earth, your own existence will become the richer for it!’‘That all sounds very well and good, but you haven’t convinced me,’ the deep-voiced angel murmured and Ariel laughed. ‘My friend, Gabriel was very gently trying to suggest that you should fall in love and that will better dispose you to the world!
Levi's gaze sought out Miss Spencer. Eden. All she had to do was smile to release those little frissons of lightning in him. As that thought crossed his mind, she glanced up, and Levi realized he was wrong. She didn't have to smile. All she had to do was look at him. Heaven help him. He was in bad.
Now I am twenty-eight, and am in reality more illiterate than many schoolboys of fifteen. It is true that I have thought more, and that my day dreams are more extended and magnificent; but they want (as the painters call it) keeping; and I greatly need a friend who would have sense enough not to despise me as romantic, and affection enough for me to endeavour to regulate my mind.
All the romantic lore of our culture has told us when we find true love with a partner it will continue. Yet this partnership lasts only if both parties remain committed to being loving. Not everyone can bear the weight of true love. Wounded hearts turn away from love because they do not want to do the work of healing necessary to sustain and nurture love. Many men, especially, often turn away from true love and choose relationships in which they can be emotionally withholding when they feel like it but still receive love from someone else. Ultimately, they choose power over love. To know and keep true love we have to be willing to surrender the will to power.
You seem more...optimistic than usual," I observed. "I haven't seen you like this before.""Isn't it supposed to be like this?" He smiled. "The glory of first love, and all that. It's incredible, isn't it, the difference between reading about something, seeing it in pictures, and experiencing it?
She did not respond, only clung harder to my embrace, and I held her with all the afflictions of a man torn by love. What a miracle she was, what a truly exquisite paragon of beauty and virtue so incredibly combined. And all perhaps wrenched from my grasp because of a war I had no real interest in nor knowledge of. In that moment I did not care who won, if only it would end and I could be with her. I would accept the whole responsibility of defeat if I had to, if only it meant a life with her by my side.I just wanted her. Needed her. As simply and clearly as one needs food and oxygen and light, I needed her in my life.And above us, flittering tranquilly in the trees above, the finches and skylarks continued to sing peacefully into the fading sun.
The sea loved the moonWhen she was supposed to love the shore.The moon knewAnd hence made his intentions known. That she should love the shoreWho was destined for her.Yet his protests seemed weak. And even when he pushed her towards the shore-She always retreated back.To want, to need, to love the moonFor all she's worth.Everyone said, it wasn't meant to happen.Yet, the Tsunami rose that night for their union.
Her steel blue eyes captivated him at first glance and along with the alluring scent of jasmine surrounding her presence, he lost all sense of time and rhythm, and barely remembered the ensuing conversation. Thinking he had died and gone to heaven, the only thing that stuck in his memory, as they found themselves pressed urgently against the wall of her hotel room, was her name; Ginny.
It was at that point Ginny felt a presence and turning to look into his eyes she knew destiny was waiting, just around the corner, over the hill. His dark limpid pools, full of hope and wonder, gazed longingly at her and slowly, as his stare captured her heart, a hush descended. All that surrounded them slipped away into darkness until she could see only him. What happened next was a blur.
God, you're so sweet.” He holds my face in his hands and kisses me deeply. I slowly unzip his hoodie and touch a hand to his bare chest. I relish in the feel of it. Barely an hour ago I was admiring it from afar, and now it's no longer just a tease. When I slide my hand down to his stomach, he groans and his hands slip just under my shirt. “So that's why you didn't want to change.” I can feel his smile against my lips. “You just wanted me to take your clothes off for you.”“Guilty.” I lift my arms for him to pull it off. Instead of returning to kissing me, his eyes roam down my body. I fight the urge to cover myself; even though my bra is still on, I feel exposed. His hands lightly touch each side along the seam. My breath catches in my throat.Meeting my eyes, he says, “You're so damn beautiful.” He leans forward, pressing a soft kiss in between my breasts. I shiver at the light touch of his lips to my sensitive skin. If this is how he makes me feel with such little contact, then how will the rest of this feel? The need is building inside like a spark starting a fire.
Even the memory of cradling her in my arms is pure euphoria. And all that I ask out of life is that it be constant and unending euphoria.
Strength and victory... What he would never praise himself for, but whose loss was his most obsessive fear.
A true romantic will break the rules for the right reasons. He will not conform to the ideals bestowed upon him by society. Instead he will fight for a climate of freedom that allows him to pursue and obtain his heart's true yearning. He will appear incorrect in his upright form, but such perception only through the eyes of those travelling under the hypnotic notion of social paradigms. Do not judge he who is breaking the rules, rather try to understand his motivations. If his intent is pure then his fight is not in vain.
I always am in a role, lovely – for you, for them – even for myself. Yeah... Even when I’m alone, I am still in a role – and I myself am the most exacting audience I have ever had.
Even I don’t know myself... In fact, I don’t know if I really have a self at all, as I’m constantly playing different roles and pretending – not so much on stage as in real life...
Emotions don’t interfere in my acting, nor in my life.
Destiny gets compressed, you know, into just that small fraction of a second you have right in front of you at any one time. And there’s nothing romantic about keeping your head down to avoid getting shot, or trying to save a friend who’s been injured, or coming face to face with a creature who is as smart and mean and as terrified of dying as you are, and who wants to make sure that if someone is left on the ground there, it’s you and not it.
So, apart from casting runes, what other hobbies do you have? Forbidden rituals, human sacrifices, torturing? –
Then there are the simple things. The way she fits against my side when we’re sitting together. How she can silence my addled thoughts with one look. The sound of my name from her lips. The way she can make a moment, any moment, a thousands times better when she is there. How the simplest pleasures in life become exciting with the promise of sharing the experience with her.
Writing's much more romantic when its pen and ink and paper. It's... More timeless. and worthwhile. Think about it. There are so many words gushing out into the universe these days. All digitally. All in Comic Sans or Times New Roman. Silly Websites. Stupid news stories digitally uploaded to a 24-hour channel. Where's all this writing going? Who's keeping a note of it all? Who's in charge of deciding what's worthwhile and what isn't? But back then... Back then, if someone wanted to write something they had to buy paper. Buy it! And ink. And a pen. And they couldn't waste too many sheets cos it was expensive. So when people wrote, they wrote because it was worthwhile... not just because they had some half-baked idea and they wanted to pointlessly prove their existence by sharing it on some bloody social networking site.
This was the first time I thought of S— that day. Her music was beautiful, her voice was beautiful, her body was beautiful. Even the dirty little pads of her feet were beautiful. I cursed myself then. For once, heaven had sent me Beauty in its most perfected form and I abandoned it. She might not have been a girl after all but an angel: a force to guide me on this hazardous path of life I hurry down. How can life be hazardous if it can only end in death?
I was never able to accept anyone else’s support but my own –
A good enemy can be better than the best of friend.
But mostly, I missed watching you two together; I missed watching you watch him, and him watch you; I missed how thoughtful you were with each other, missed how thoughtlessly, sincerely affectionate you were with him; missed watching you listen to each other, the way you both did so intently.
Desires are what can most easily ruin us, lovely.
And what if you try to kill me? Or worse: to kiss me?
In the harsh veracity of the real world, he was rich, successful, and one of the most desired bachelors in New York—and I was, well, me. A world I hoped wouldn’t tear us apart by pointing out just how different our lives were.“You’re probably eager to get home,” Jett whispered in my ear so the flight attendant serving coffee wouldn’t hear us, “but will you stay with me one more night? I’m not quite ready to let this go.
Remember, the village idiot was the spiritual man who built the ark and saved his family. Keep being you and never give up marching to the beat of your own drum!
When the love-led man had ceased from his labours Bathsheba came and looked him in the face.'Gabriel, will you you stay on with me?' she said, smiling winningly, and not troubling to bring her lips quite together again at the end, because there was going to be another smile soon.'I will,' said Gabriel.And she smiled on him again.
German is a much more precise language than English. Americans throw the word love around for everything: I love my wife! I love all my friends! I love rock music! I love the rain! I love comic books! I love peanut butter! The word you use to describe your feelings for your wife should not be the same word you use to describe your feelings for peanut butter. In German, there are a dozen different words that describe varying degrees of liking something a lot. Germans almost never use the word love, unless they mean a deep romantic love. I have never told my parents I love them, because it would sound melodramatic, inappropriate, and almost incestuous. In German, you tell your mother that you hold her very dear, not that you are in love with her.
Well, if you can accept that I’m a great big geeky fangirl, then I guess I can accept that you’re a skeptic and a realist.
Emma has just rung and sarcastically asked me if I was ever planning on asking her out again. After fighting back my initial reaction to answer ‘only if you’re going to put out this time,’ I told her that, in these days of equality, it was her turn to ask me. Which, amazingly enough, she did.
The unknown grayish mystifying forest was benumbed into frost-covered cold, and the tremendous pines towering above the dark marshy soil resembled a gathering of severe mute brothers from a forbidden ancient order worshiping forgotten gods no one had ever heard of outside of the world of secret occult visions.
It was William who would climb out of his carriage unafraid and help a farmer drive a herd of cattle or sheep across a road when necessary.
The marine underworld stretched below the ship and embodied many secrets. The disappearance of Olga had become one of the mysteries that would remain with Stefania and her family. The disappearance of her baby sister and sudden departure from her home had taught the ten-year-old that life was filled with uncertainties. But she was willing to forget that for a little while.She jumped down from the barrel and headed toward Liam, Felix, and the other shipmates. They would sing shanties and talk of the constellations, the sea, its creatures, and the legends. It would get her through another night.La Suerte was the only stability for her passengers with the infinite unknown all around them. The waters of the sea, the world below the surface, and the sky that stretched beyond the horizon was a representation of the limitless possibilities and dangers awaiting those aboard.
My only regret,” he gently tugged me back toward him, “would be leaving this world before naming you as my wife. If I die tomorrow, at least I’ll have that to my credit.” Wrapping his arms around my waist, he vowed, “You don’t have to be queen…but you will not fall into obscurity on a foreign world. You will bear the Omuran name, and I have to believe that will protect you.” He brought his forehead to rest against mine, adding sorrowfully, “I have to believe that our family line wasn’t meant to end with this.
It was Jaenelle's voice, but...She was medium height, slender, and fair-skinned. Her gold mane--not quite hair and not quite fur--was brushed up and back from her exotic face and didn't hide the delicately pointed ears. In the center of her forehead was a tiny, spiral horn. A narrow strip of gold fur traced her spine, ending in a small gold and white fawn tail that flicked over her bare buttocks. The legs were human and shapely, but changed below the calf. Instead of feet, she had dainty horse's hooves. Her human hands had sheathed claws like a cat's. As she shifted position to slip another shard into place, he saw the small, round breasts, the feminine curve of waist and hips, the dark-gold triangle of hair between her legs.Who...?But he knew. Even before she walked over and looked at him, even before he saw the feral intelligence in those ancient, haunted sapphire eyes, he knew. Terrifying and beautiful. Human and Other. Gentle and violent. Innocent and wise.*I am Witch,* she said, a small, defiant quiver in her voice.*I know.* His voice had a seductive throb in it, a hunger he couldn't control or mask.
He had strong, steady hands, and I could tell from looking at them there was little he couldn't do. Mossy always said you could tell everything you needed to know about a man from his hands. Some hands, she told me, were leaving hands. They were the wandering sort that slipped into places they shouldn't, and they would wander right off again because those hands just couldn't stay still. Some hands were worthless hands, fit only to hold a drink or flick ash from a cigar, and some were punishing hands that hit hard and didn't leave a mark and those were the ones you never stayed to see twice.But the best hands were knowing hands, Mossy told me with a slow smile. Knowing hands were capable; they could soothe a horse or woman. They could take things apart -- including your heart -- and put them back together better than before. Knowing hands were rare, but if you found them, they were worth holding, at least for a little while.
Oh don't be pompous and gloomy,darling," chided Amalfi. "There are thousands of places just as lovely as this. And as peaceful.""That's where you are wrong," said Tyson,leaning his elbows on the warm stone. "I've seen a lot of the world, A hell of a lot of it!But there's something special about this island Something that I haven't met anywhere else Do you know what is the most familiar sound in Zanzibar?-laughter! Walk through the streets of the little city almost any time of day or night, and you'll hear it. People laughing. There is a gaiety and good humour about them that is strangely warming to even such a corrugated, corroded and eroded heart as mine and this is the only place that I have hit upon where black and white and every shade in between 'em appear to able to live in complete friendliness and harmony, with no colour bar. It's living proof and a practical demonstration that it can be done.
You know what?” he whispered, out of breath, “You’re about to be in a whole lot of trouble. We probably better go.
And I wasn’t playing a role – I was trying to be myself.But the harder I was striving, the more I was realizing that I had probably lost that ‘myself’ somewhere between two perfectly performed roles...
Gray.The overcast skies had the colour of deadened stones, and seemed closer than usually, as though they were phlegmatically observing my every movement with their apathetic emptily blue-less eyes; each tiny drop of hazy rain drifting around resembled transparent molten steel, the pavement looked like it was about to burst into disconsolate tears, even the air itself was gray, so ultimate and ubiquitous that colour was everywhere around me.Gray...
You are a bright light, Elli.’ His own breath hitches, a sound that I cannot quite grasp. His eyes are darkening, his lips tightening. His hands grasp me tighter and he moves closer, his mouth inches from mine, I can almost taste the sweetness and saltiness of his scent, the rich coffee beans and sugar, the vague spearmint. I say nothing, I’m not even sure I’m breathing.‘You shouldn’t have to see such pain, such blackness. You are too pure.’ His lips do not collide with mine, his skin does not brush against me, only his voice sends a shiver down every notch in my spine, trailing goose bumps over my skin. He tilts his head to the side, his lips gently brushing against my ear. And that is all. I’m not good enough for him. I’m not. That’s why… that’s why…‘Too pure…
I want to get to know you a little better.’ His hand touches mine, the briefest of touches but I still recoil my hand into the sleeve of my cardigan. His touch is blisteringly hot, I’m sure earlier today when he cupped my cheek I had burn marks. But no, it is just him, just his touch, it sends crazy little shivers throughout my entirety.‘I don’t understand you… you said you want what you cannot have. Isn’t this a form of torture?’‘Does a person who wishes to lose weight not taunt themselves with sweets? Does a person not go by the same window every day, just to glimpse the piece of jewellery they long for, yet can never attain? We torment ourselves every day with things we cannot have. Perhaps it is torture, but perhaps my request is genuine.
I’ll always be your friend,” he said. “Your best friend, if you let me. But I want to be your lover, too.” He groaned and shifted in his chair. “Soon. I want to be that soon.” Then a look came over him. “Oh Gina…I didn’t even court you! God, I should date you first before I beg you to take off your clothes!
The marine underworld stretched below the ship and embodied many secrets. The disappearance of Olga had become one of the mysteries that would remain with Stefania and her family. The disappearance of her baby sister and sudden departure from her home had taught the ten-year-old that life was filled with uncertainties. But she was willing to forget that for a little while.She jumped down from the barrel and headed toward Liam, Felix, and the other shipmates. They would sing shanties and talk of the constellations, the sea, its creatures, and the legends. It would get her through another night.La Suerte was the only stability for her passengers with the infinite unknown all around them. The waters of the sea, the world below the surface, and the sky that stretched beyond the horizon was a representation of the limitless possibilites and dangers awaiting those aboard.
I wouldn’t joke if you weren’t always patching me up,” Davin retorted. He looked at Chad again. “You must have noticed, right? It’s kind of cute, actually.” Though my heart fluttered, I tried to shoot him a warning glare. He ignored me. “I like to call her Doctor Fisher.
ROSE: I love you, Jack.JACK: No...don’t say your goodbyes, Rose. Don’t you give up. Don’t do it.ROSE: I’m so cold.JACK: You’re going to get out of this...you’re going to go on and you’re going to make babies and watch them grow and you’re going to die an old lady, warm in your bed. Not here...Not this night. Do you understand me?ROSE: I can’t feel my body.JACK: Rose, listen to me. Winning that ticket was the best thing that ever happened to me. It brought me to you. And I’m thankful, Rose. I’m thankful. You must do me this honor...promise me you will survive....that you will never give up...not matter what happens...no matter how hopeless...promise me now, and never let go of that promise.ROSE: I promise.JACK: Never let go.ROSE: I promise. I will never let go, Jack. I’ll never let go.
Girls did that then – knocked themselves out to support some man’s notion of his own genius. What was Gavin doing to help pay the rent? Not much, though she suspected him of dealing pot on the side. Once in a while they even smoked some of that, though not often, because it made Constance cough. It was all very romantic.
Love is not love which alters it when alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove: O no! It is an ever fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken; it is the star to every wandering bark whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks within his bending sickle's compass come: Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, but bears it out, even to the edge of
This world is too fast and the people are so busy they may never get the time to stop and admire you when they pass you by; and I'm afraid this will slowly make you forget how very beautiful you are. Never forget that, love. You're an angel. The most beautiful of all angels.
Usually, the murmur that rises up from Paris by day is the city talking; in the night it is the city breathing; but here it is the city singing. Listen, then, to this chorus of bell-towers - diffuse over the whole the murmur of half a million people - the eternal lament of the river - the endless sighing of the wind - the grave and distant quartet of the four forests placed upon the hills, in the distance, like immense organpipes - extinguish to a half light all in the central chime that would otherwise be too harsh or too shrill; and then say whetehr you know of anything in the world more rich, more joyous, more golden, more dazzling, than this tumult of bells and chimes - this furnace of music - these thousands of brazen voices, all singing together in flutes of stone three hundred feet high, than this city which is but one orchestra - this symphony which roars like a tempest.
Sleep, my love," He whispered, smoothing her long hair, lifting the damp locks away from the back of her neck. "I'll be here to watch over you.""You sleep too," she said groggily, her hand creeping to the center of his chest."No." McKenna smiled and pressed a soft kiss against her temple. His voice was husky with wonder. "Not when staying awake is better than anything I could find in a dream.
He firmly pulled her body against his and he brushed her lips with his. Staring into her eyes, he lightly slid his tongue across her bottom lip. She drew a deep, staggered breath in response to the wave of heat she felt flushing through her. Derrick smiled at her. Then, he softly kissed her. He lightly swept his tongue between her lips, pressing his warm, soft lips to hers. He slid his hands up her body and cradled her face with his hands. Then, he passionately kissed her, tickling her tongue with his. He sucked her lips, gently, as though he was sampling nectar on a delicate petal. Then, with an intense urgency, he dipped his tongue past her lips, caressing her tongue with his. She felt fluttering inside. Anne’s body craved him. A shallow hum escaped from within her in response to how he was making her feel. She could feel his body responding to her. He was breathing heavier which was waking Anne’s primal needs. The tidal wave of lust that had just churned within her was slowly calming as his kiss became more subtle and tender. He gently pressed his lips against hers. He pulled back a little and looked away, exhaling.
Idk what the fuck just happened to us. We used to talk like hell pelhay but now days we act like as if we don't know each other and there's some kinda fight between us. I still want you to stay in my life, as a friend and even more than that but the only thing that I want from you is your acceptance. You think that I don't talk to you or stuff and I'm trying to ignore you but trust me I never tried to ignore. You know what I just can't ignore even when I want too. And if you still think that I'm the only one who have changed and etc so I'm really sorry and honestly I just can not stay away from you. Love you
If I breathe you in and you breathe me out, I swear we can breathe forever. I swear I’ll find summer in your winter and spring in your autumn and always, hands at the ends of your fingers, arms at the ends of your shoulders and I swear, when we run out of forever, when we run out of air, your name will be the last word that my lungs make air for.
When you give your heart away, you usually get it back in pieces, fragments. And often, a great deal of time passes before you realize that every piece wasn’t returned to you—and probably never will be. You crave nothing more than to get those small—but vital—fragments back; to return to the unbroken, undamaged version of yourself. But what's been broken cannot be unbroken, and so all you can do is learn to live with the void of the missing pieces, to somehow find beauty in the wreckage.And so I did.Sophie Lenon
One of the rarest and most beautiful things in this world is to meet someone who has the ability to intoxicate you. Every moment with her was exhilarating, and every moment without her was spent captivated by thoughts about her. She was like the finest of wines. And I was getting drunk.
I did not have an opportunity to speak privately with Peter until just as he was leaving, when he handed me one of the Burns song-sheets and (with a most earnest look) told me to read it before I went to bed.The song was 'My Love is Like a Red, Red Rose,' but it was not until was up in my bedchamber that I saw he had written on the inside page: 'My mother would be honoured if you visited her after church tomorrow.
He stood frozen, staring at me as if he didn’t know how to do anything else. I couldn’t focus; it was like all the world’s blue had originated from his eyes. It was all there, the color of midnight, the sky, the ocean, and blue raspberry lollipops. Why had I spent so much time pretending they weren’t remarkable?
I'm Tiny And My Reach Is Limited. I Can Give YOU Only What I Have And Surely When I Give, I Don't Keep Anything For Me. To YOU, It's Nothing Probably As YOU've Got Everything. My Everything Would Be Unnoticed. It Seems Like "A Rain Drop To The Ocean".... (From The Romantic Story "Reflection of The Rainbow")....
I miss her | & not the type of missing when you’re alone, not the type when you’re broken down half drunk, not even the type when you know she’s the one. I’m talking about the kind of missing that when you’re full of happiness…you wish they were there to enjoy it. I don’t care if we’re not together, I don’t care if I never see her again. All that I will every know is I’m here smiling & I know how much she’d like to see that.
The same beautiful receptionist greeted Christian who had met him before and she extended the same lush invitation as she had the last time. Victoria's eyes narrowed and Christian chuckled under his breath at her jealousy."Relax chérie, she's paid to do that." "Well, she didn't come on to me, so obviously she's not doing her job properly," Victoria said. Christian laughed.
He leaned his head to me, his neck so close to my lips, I felt the heat coming off his skin. His breath was warm against my ear. His voice was a ragged snarl. "I miss you."This wasn't happening."I worry about you." He dipped his head and looked into my eyes. "I worry something stupid will happen and I won't be there and you'll be gone. I worry we won't ever get a chance and it's driving me out of my skull."No, no, no, no.........We stared at each other. The tiny space between us felt too hot. Muscles bulged on his naked frame. He looked feral.Mad gold eyes stared into mine. "Do you miss me, Kate?"I closed my eyes trying to shut him out. I could lie then we would be back to square one. Nothing would be resolved. I'd still be alone, hating him and wanting him.He grabbed my shoulders and shook me once. "Do you miss me?"I took the plunge. "Yes.
The necklace was a good excuse," he murmured."For what?""I thought maybe I could go to Charleston and show up at your front door to give this back and maybe… you might let me in. Or something. I was worried that another male would court you, so I've been trying to go as fast as I could. I mean, I figured maybe if I could read, and if I took a little better care of myself, and if I tried to stop being such a mean-ass motherfucker…" He shook his head. "But don't misunderstand. It's not like I expected you to be happy to see me. I was just… you know, hoping… coffee. Tea. Chance to talk. Or some shit. Friends, maybe. Except if you had a male, he wouldn't allow that. So, yeah, that's why I've been hurrying."His yellow eyes lifted to hers. He was wincing, as if he were afraid of what might be showing on her face."Friends?" she said."Yeah… I mean, I wouldn't disgrace you by asking for more than that. I know that you regret… Anyway, I just couldn't let you go without… Yeah, so… friends.
Yes...and I'm worried that if you get into the habit of making out with your instructors, you'll wind up making out with him too.""Don't be sexist. They could find me a female instructor.""In that case, you have my permission to make out with her as long as I can watch.
It was you," I say softly. "It's always you I think about."The intensity in his gaze took my breath away. I could feel him. Every part of him. His soul was sewn to mine. His heated blood flowed through my veins. I'd thought that I had been close to my mother, and I was, but not like this. Chase and I barely touched- our hands, mouths, knees- but there was no part of me that was not his.
As soon as he had her safe again in his arms he broke down and kissed her. Helen was so stunned she stopped crying before she had a chance to start and nearly fell out of the sky. Still thebetter flyer, Lucas caught her and supported her as they tumbled on the wind, holding and kissing each other as he tumbled on the wind, holding and kissing each other as he guided them safely back down to the catwalk. As their feet touched down, the light inside the lighthouse switched onand projected the shadows of their embracing figures out onto the choppy waves of the ocean.“I can’t lose you,” Lucas said, pulling his mouth away from hers. “That’s why I didn’t tell you the whole truth. I thought if you knew how bad it was you’d send me away. I didn’t want you to give up hope. I can’t do this if you give up on us.”(Starcrossed)
I think you’re my hero,' she said. Only half-kidding.He stared at her, the picture of incredulity. 'Most people,' he said, 'think I am a very bad man.'She studied his eyes to try to find out if that bothered him. He didn’t seem bothered by them. He seemed discomfited by her. 'Well,' she said at last, 'maybe you’re a very good dragon.
Leo smiled and stroked her hair. 'We'll both be fine, Marks. We've just begun our journey...and there's so much we have yet to do.' He spoke more softly as he heard her breathing turn even and steady. 'Rest against my heart. Let me watch over your dreams. And know that tomorrow morning, and every morning after that, you'll awaken next to someone who loves you.''Dodger?' she mumbled against his chest, and he grinned.'No, your confounded ferret will have to stay in his basket. I was referring to myself.''Yes, I know.' Catherine slid her hand up to his cheek. 'Only you,' she said. 'Always you.
Love you! Girl, you're in the very core of my heart. I hold you there like a jewel. Didn't I promise you I'd never tell you a lie? Love you! I love you with all there is of me to love. Heart, soul, brain. Every fibre of body and spirit thrilling to the sweetness of you. There's nobody in the world for me but you, Valancy.
The fear, momentarily paused, returned with full force, and in this frantic, baffled state I ran to him, and leapt into his arms. He seemed surprised at first but soon was squeezing back. "It's all right," he soothed. "No one's hurt. You're okay."His words sliced through me, and for the first time since he'd taken me from school, I knew the truth about us: I could not be okay if he was not okay. Pain, nightmares, fighting- all of it aside- he was a part of me.
Oh, God," Lori said without looking at me, "what are they thinking, leaving the two of us alone out here on the dock together? We might TALK or something.""That would be awful," I said. "I might give you a hickey."She laughed, still watching for Cameron's start instead of looking at me. "Just by talking to me?""I can talk really dirty. You'd be surprised.
A smaller rocket cut across the sky, trailing smoke. It exploded in a red heart."Awwwww!" said the crowd."Upside down," said Sean.The heart was, indeed, upside down. It grew and grew, upside down, until it's lights trailed and faded.A bigger rocket exploded in bright golden sparks, and then came another red heart."Upside down," said all the boys.Three explosions layered on top of one another, gold, blue, pink. Then still another red heart exploded, growing and growing before it faded."Upside down," said everyone in the boat but me.My own heart expanded for Adam.I whispered, "I know what he meant.
Girl lithe and tawny, the sun that formsthe fruits, that plumps the grains, that curls seaweedsfilled your body with joy, and your luminous eyesand your mouth that has the smile of the water.A black yearning sun is braided into the strandsof your black mane, when you stretch your arms.You play with the sun as with a little brookand it leaves two dark pools in your eyes.
Adam ” Lori called loudly enough for me to hear her but not so loud that her voice would carry up to my mom in the marina office- or to her dad who might be listening from their screened porch facing the water. “I came over to get some tips from the boys about teaching Tammy and Rachel to board. Of course I did not come over here to see you. How could you think such a thing That would be disobedient.” I held up the wax. “For my own disobedience I have to buff the boat. Then I’m going for a jog.” She tilted her head. Probably her eyes widened but I couldn’t see them behind her sunglasses. I hated not being able to see her eyes. She asked “In this heat?” I didn’t mind jogging in the heat. The heat was a big friendly animal that liked to wrestle and only occasionally sat on me until I lost my breath. Anyway she was missing the point. I repeated carefully ”I am GOING for a JOG.” “I HEARD you the FIRST time ” she said. “It’s late afternoon in the middle of June. It’s ninety-five degrees out here.” “He means he’s GOING for a JOG” Rachel and Tammy said at the same time. “He’s GOING for a JOG.”Lori still didn’t get it. Normally her blondeness was one of the things I loved about her. At the moment not so much. Exasperated Cameron told her “Adam wants you to go for a jog too.” She said “Oh ” “If you two airheads have to hook up secretly for very long ” Sean said “you’re not going to make it.
There’s a good kind of crazy, Kaylee,” he insisted softly, reaching out to wrap his warm hand around mine. “It’s the kind that makes you thinkabout things that make your head hurt, because not thinking about them is the coward’s way out. The kind that makes you touch people who bruise yoursoul, just because they need to be touched. This is the kind of crazy that lets you stare out into the darkness and rage at eternity, while it stares back atyou, ready to swallow you whole.
I was shaking when our lips parted and he leaned his forehead against mine, his fingers carding through my hair, my hands on his face. "I won't let them," Rafael said. "I won't let anyone take you away. I'll protect you. I'll always protect you. I don't care how. I just will.
She nodded and reached out to take my hand again. I turned to look at her fully, I didnt want to say it, but I felt I should. I'd never had a chance to say it to my sisters, to my mother and I'd always regretted it. "Just in case", I said, leaning down. For once the Laz remained respectful. It didn't want her. I wanted her. Knitting my fingers into her curls, I kissed her forehead. I limited myself to one word this time. "Goodbye.
Think like a middle-aged man with OCD, a dead wife, and a teenage daughter.Think like a woman with three teenage sons who once ran a golf cart into the side of their granddad's house.""Cameron and Sean shouldn't have let me drive," Adam said in his own defense. "I was seven.""You shouldn't have ASKED to drive. You were seven.
Shanna, sweet Shanna. How can I tell you what you mean to me? When I saw you at the ball it was as if my heart started beating again. You lit up the room, bright in an ocean of black and white. And I thought- my life has been nothing but a dark, endless night. Then you came out like a rainbow and filled my black soul with color.
Carol raised her hand slowly and brushed her hair back, once on either side, and Therese smiled because the gesture was Carol, and it was Carol she loved and would always love. Oh, in a different way now because she was a different person, and it was like meeting Carol all over again, but it was still Carol and no one else. It would be Carol, in a thousand cities, a thousand houses, in foreign lands where they would go together, in heaven and in hell. Therese waited. Then as she was about to go to her, Carol saw her, seemed to stare at her incredulously a moment while Therese watched the slow smile growing, before her arm lifted suddenly, her hand waved a quick, eager greeting that Therese had never seen before. Therese walked toward her.
i get a little romantic about the old Empire State. Just looking at it makes me want to play some Frank Sinatra tunes and sway a little. I have a crush on a building. I'd been in there several times but never to work. I always knew there were offices in there but the face never penetrated, really. You don't work in the Empire State Building. You propose in the Empire State Building. You sneak a flask up there and raise a toast to the whole city of New York.
[Kane to Rose] I'll never forget the way you looked walking toward me. I never thought that I'd have a woman like you in my life. It's all there etched in my brain. And now, the way the light pours over our hair, the way all that silk shines, so black it's nearly blue. The world disappears when I'm holding you.
I know the M-word makes you nervous, but yeah. I'm talking about the big, permanent friendship. A little different from what Joe and Charles had, though. See, I want to be the kind of best friends who make love every night, who share all their darkest secrets and favorite jokes, and maybe even someday make babies together. I know that kind of friendship requires hard work, but you know, I'm pretty good at hard work.~ Tom Paoletti, "The Unsung Hero
It had been dark at the beach for hours, he hadn't been smoking much and it wasn't headlights – but before she turned away, he could swear he saw light falling on her face, the orange light just after sunset that catches a face turned to the west, watching the ocean for someone to come in on the last wave of the day, in to shore and safety.
I'm not stalking her," I insisted."I'm making sure she's safe. Besides, how could you stalk Lori McGillicuddy?She'd see you and come out to your truck and say, "Hi, I'm Lori. Are you my stalker? It's so neat to meet you! While you're stuck here watching my every move, can I bring you anything? Sweet tea?
I believe I am becoming pathetic. I'll go further, I believe that I am in love with a flower-growing, wood-carving quarryman/carpenter/pig farmer. In fact, I know I am. Perhaps tomorrow I will become entirely miserable at the thought that he doesn't love me back - may, even, care for Remy- but at this precise moment I am succumbing to euphoria. My head and stomach feel quite odd.
He sighed, then said, "So basically, you're stalking her.""I am NOT stalking her." I insisted."That's where you come in. If I followed her by myself, someone who did not understand the situation and did not realize that I am so responsible-"McGillicuddy snorted."- might mistake what I am doing for stalking.However, her big brother is with me. Therefore we are protecting her.
Alone in my chamber, I fairly trembled with excitement. How could it be that I, who had never been kissed before, had kissed the Prince of Denmark himself, not once but many times? Did he really speak to me of love? It was beyond belief that I, humble Ophelia, should be wooed by Prince Hamlet. Surely I had imagined it.
Stubble or what?" Eyes still closed he chuckled. "I'm not shaving until our parents let us date again." He kissed my cheek. "What if it takes... a... while?" I asked struggling to talk. He'd made his way down to my neck. His tongue circled there slowly. "There are only six or seven weeks until August football practice starts right?" "Hm." His mouth moved up my neck toward my ear. Oh. "Will you be able to stuff your beard into your helmet?" I croaked. In answer he put his lips on my ear. I forgot the next joke I'd planned to make and lost myself in Adam.
I'm a pretty forgetful guy, but everything she says, I remember. I remember what colour her hair ribbon was when we met on the first day of fifth grade. I remember that she loves orchids because they look delicate but aren't, really. From a single postcard she sent me when traveling with her family two summers ago. I remember what my name looks like in her handwriting.
You make terrible, terrible plans." "Hey, " I protested. "One of my plans caught you didn't it?" "Yeah, but you meant to catch Sean." He took his hand off my shoulder. I waved his concerns away, along with a cloud of gnats that had found us in the forest. "You're getting lost in the details. Keep the big picture in mind.
There was never an accident.Rebecca was not drowned at all. I killed her.I shot Rebecca in the cottage in the cove.I carried her body to the cabin, and took the boat out that night and sunk it there, where they found it today.It's Rebecca who's lying dead there on the cabin floor.Will you look into my eyes and tell me that you love me now?
Adam thinks that you two are in an argument."My body zinged into alert mode. My mind didn't know what Mrs. Vader meant, but my body already did. Even Sean glanced over at her with a cautious look."He does?" I asked faintly."A bad one," she confirmed."How could we be in a bad argument without me even knowing about it?
Everything changes, but my love for you never will. I’ve fought myself on this too long and I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t feign that I don’t want to talk to you, to reach out and brush the hair out of your eyes, or wipe a tear off your cheek. I want to hold you, to tell you how much I love you, to kiss you without repercussions.” His voice grew softer, electricity sparking in the air. “I’ve loved you since I met you, Evangeline, and I will love you for all of eternity.
Oof!" Adam caught me all right, with the side of his head. I could tell by the feel of his skull on my foot as I kicked him. He grabbed me the best he could anyway, and we half landed, half fell in the pine needles.He lay facedown on the ground. I flopped him over on his back to make sure he was alive. If he had a concussion, we'd have to call the ambulance, which meant we'd get caught and he'd get sent to military school.On the bright side, maybe the military school would not take him if he had brain damage."I'm so sorry.""Worth it," he grunted. He rolled onto his feet like a ninja and grabbed my hand. "Hurry, before they release the hounds.
I'd like to shower and change clothes," she said. "Would you mind waiting for me a half hour?" The question seemed to amuse him. "Not at all," he said with exaggerated formality. "Please take all the time you need." Michael watched her walk away. Did he mind waiting a half hour for her? Not at all. He'd been waiting years for her.
I hurt your feelings before. But then, I don’t think you were lacking in self-confidence. You must know that you’re beautiful. Your hair is so golden and you have the bearing of a young Venus. Kristen, it isn’t you. It’s me. I haven’t got any emotion left. I haven’t got what you need, what you want. Damn it, don’t you understand? I want you. I’m made out of flesh and blood and whatever else it is that God puts into men. I want you. Now. Hell, I could have wanted you right after I ripped another man away from you. I’m no better than he is, not really. Don’t you understand?
I know, I know…there’s something cliché about that. The heroine initially wanting to clobber a protagonist male, but later realizing that he’s grown on her and she actually really likes him. Technically, I’m not supposed to find that appealing. But maybe real life is a lot more cliché than anyone wants to admit. Or maybe there’s just a fine, subjective line between the cliché and the poetic.
But what if you are a smart girl in love? All because I was a book nerd didn’t mean, I didn’t feel, I didn’t want. Shylock had cried out in excess of pain, “If you prick me do I not bleed!” But a book nerd is not allowed to be human, to say “you make me melt” and still have her mind want something else entirely?
Chretien speaking to Dominic:'Magda is no ordinary young woman. There is a blood price on her head way beyond that upon any Cathar, indeed way beyond mine. I advise you most strongly to think with your head, not your loins.' 'I am thinking,' Dominic said softly, 'with my heart.
One morning at the end of the two years, as I was writing a letter to his dictation, he came and bent over me, and said--"Jane, have you a glittering ornament round your neck?" I had a gold watch-chain: I answered "Yes." "And have you a pale blue dress on?I had. He informed me then, that for some time he had fancied the obscurity clouding one eye was becoming less dense; and that now he was sure of it.
Every week, Michael went to Dean and DeLuca to buy your pears." She shook her head, remembering. "He waas going to school, and he had no money, so he stretched every penny like this -" She made a motion as if she were pulling on rubber band. "But he wanted you to have the best pears. For you, only the best would do.
John’s voice cracked when he answered, and she could hear the pain seeping in no matter how hard he tried to cover it. “What if I lose focus? What if I lose you?” he asked. Katelyn framed his face with her hands and kissed him softly. “You won’t,” she said against his lips. “You won’t lose me.” He just wrapped himself around her, kissing her with his drugging kisses.
The directness of her question throws me. "I don't know. Sometimes I think there are only so many opportunities...to get together with someone. And we've both screwed up so many times"- my voice grows quiet - "that we've missed our chance.""Anna." Mer pauses. "That is the dumbest thing I've ever heard.""But—""But what? You love him, and he loves you, and you live in the most romantic city in the world.
I thought that I needed a church and hundreds of guests and music thatactually sounded like music, but I was wrong.What I needed was a drunken priest, irreverent guests, and a companionwho learned to play piano from a goat.""Then you got exactly what you needed.""I suppose so. But then again, all I really needed was you.
You know nothing says love like a man holding a bucket, waiting for you to hurl into it.""No, offense, you start hurling and I'm going to be needed immediately downstairs in the casino ... I guarantee it."She glared at him with only her one eye open. "That's not very roma
To me the erotic is the relationship that organically manifests itself between people finding and exploring love. It is the universality of accepting the darkness that makes up human nature, the darkness I find so romantic within that dance, the inevitable opening up that lets in the light of sensuality between two human beings becoming one together without the confines of preconceived morality. In short, an exploration of all the facets of both the subconscious and conscious of light and dark. “Emotional connectedness.
Noemy says, “I guess it’s just the idea of love I miss. And, well, it was a good kiss.” Her smile turns rueful. “At least I got some practice.” A wonderful idea occurs to Abel. “Do you need more practice?” “Huh?” “We could practice, if you wanted."He smiles as he starts to explain."Remember what I told you on Genesis? I’m programmed with a wide array of techniques for providing physical pleasure, via every activity from kissing to the more arcane positions for sexual intercourse. Although I’ve never performed any of them before, I’m confident I could do so very skillfully.” She stares at him, eyes wide. Since she is swift to voice objections if she has them, Abel takes her silence as an encouraging sign. So he sits up on the bed to explain the further compelling reasons now coming to mind. “Humans need a certain amount of physical release and comfort in order to be psychologicallly healthy. You’ve been away from your family and friends for some time, and have endured considerable trauma, suggesting you are in even greater need than usual. I have all the information and technique necessary to be an excellent partner, my body is designed to be appealing, and of course I can neither carry disease nor impregnate you. We have total privacy and many hours of spare time. Conditions for intercourse would seem to be ideal.
If you're lucky enough to finda girl who is a hopeless romanticwith a dirty mind,you should hold onto that.Because she'll be yours attwo in the morning, and at two in the afternoonthe following day.She'll kiss you where it hurts,and until it hurts.and that's important.Someone who not only knowshow to turn you on,but also knows how to treat you rightis someone worth a little something.
Was that—did she just grin at me? To me? A moment of stillness in this moment of pause. Without speaking, we let our gazes wander slow, groping to confirm relief in the other. There's a subdued excitement for the oncoming sharing of whatever's waiting for us behind that heavy iron door, exclusive—two solitary embers, isolated in their separate pits, far away but fanned by the same wind, the same night, alone with the night, their respective camps all gone to sleep, flaring softly cradled calling, out against the great dark backdrop of the great unknown.
I found the words at the back of a drawer,wrapped in black cloth, like three ringsslipped from a dead woman’s hand, cold,dull gold. I had held them before,years ago,then put them away, forgetting whatever it wasI could use them to say. I touched the first to my lips,like a pledge, like a kiss,and my breathwarmed them, the words I needed to utter this, small words,and few. I rubbed at them till they gleamed in my palm –I love you, I love you, I love you –as though they were new.
I found the words at the back of a drawer,wrapped in black cloth, like three ringsslipped from a dead woman’s hand, cold,dull gold. I had held them before,years ago,then put them away, forgetting whatever it wasI could use them to say. I touched the first to my lips,like a pledge, like a kiss,and my breathwarmed them, the words I needed to utter this, small words,and few. I rubbed at them till they gleamed in my palm –I love you, I love you, I love you –as though they were new."Finding the Words
Marry me, Rachel.''Not yet.''Tomorrow, Rachel. Marry me.''Maybe tomorrow.''There is no common blood between us. Say it,' pleads Zachariah.'There is no common blood between us,' murmurs Rachel.'I am not your brother.''I know.'He traces her face with his swollen fingers, across the brow bones and down the zygomatics, and along the jaw from earlobe to chin, sweeping away the brine as he goes.'I am your Wolff,' he says.'And I am your Wolff,' she replies.Let the day begin.
Love’s time’s beggar, but even a single hour,bright as a dropped coin, makes love rich.We find an hour together, spend it not on flowersor wine, but the whole of the summer sky and a grass ditch.For thousands of seconds we kiss; your hairlike treasure on the ground; the Midas lightturning your limbs to gold. Time slows, for herewe are millionaires, backhanding the nightso nothing dark will end our shining hour,no jewel hold a candle to the cuckoo spithung from the blade of grass at your ear,no chandelier or spotlight see you better litthan here. Now. Time hates love, wants love poor,but love spins gold, gold, gold from straw.
Dr Allendy said that it was necessary to become equal to life, that the romantic was defeated by life, really died of it, whether by tuberculosis in the old days, or by neurosis today. I had never thought before of the connection between neurosis and romanticism. Wanting the impossible? Dying when unable to reach it? Not wanting to compromise?
Tenar, I go where I am sent. I follow my calling. It has not yet let me stay in any land for long. Do you see that? I do what I must do. Where I go, I must go alone. So long as you need me, I’ll be with you in Havnor. And if you ever need me again, call me. I will come. I would come from my grave if you called me, Tenar! But I cannot stay with you.
I tend the mobile nowlike an injured birdWe text, text, textour significant words.I re-read your first,your second, your third,look for your small xx,feeling absurd.The codes we sendarrive with a broken chord.I try to picture your hands,their image is blurred.Nothing my thumbs presswill ever be heard."Text
When did your namechange from a proper nounto a charm?Its three vowelslike jewelson the thread of my breath.Its consonantsbrushing my mouthlike a kiss.I love your name.I say it again and againin this summer rain.I see it,discreet in the alphabet,like a wish.I pray itinto the nighttill its letters are light.I hear your namerhyming, rhyming,rhyming with everything."Name
Uninvited, the thought of you stayed too late in my head,so I went to bed, dreaming you hard, hard, woke with your name,like tears, soft, salt, on my lips, the sound of its bright syllableslike a charm, like a spell.Falling in loveis glamorous hell; the crouched, parched heartlike a tiger ready to kill; a flame's fierce licks under the skin.Into my life, larger than life, beautiful, you strolled in. I hid in my ordinary days, in the long grass of routine,in my camouflage rooms. You sprawled in my gaze,staring back from anyone's face, from the shape of a cloud,from the pining, earth-struck moon which gapes at meas I open the bedroom door. The curtains stir. There you areon the bed, like a gift, like a touchable dream."You
Give me, you said, on our very first night,the forest. I rose from the bed and went out,and when I returned, you listened, enthralled,to the shadowy story I told.Give me the river,you asked the next night, then I’ll love you forever.I slipped from your arms and was gone,and when I came back, you listened, at dawn,to the glittering story I told.Give me, you said, the goldfrom the sun. A third time, I got up and dressed,and when I came home, you sprawled on my breast,for the dazzling story I told.Give me,the hedgerows, give me the fields,I slid from the warmth of our sheets, and when I returned, to kiss you from sleep,you stirred at the story I told.give me the silvery cold,of the moon. I pulled on my boots and my coat,but when i came back, moonlight on your throatoutshone the story I toldGive me, you howledon our sixth night together, the wind in the trees.You turned to the wall as I left,and when I came home, I saw you were deafto the blustering story I told.Give me the sky, all the spaceit can hold. I left you, the last night we loved,and when I returned, you were gone with the gold,and the silver, the river, the forest, the fields,and this is the story I’ve told."Give
What is the world, except that which we feel? Love, and hope, and delight, or sorrow and tears; these are our lives, our realities, to which we give the names of power, possession, misfortune, and death.
Let the romantic minds meet the romantic cities and after that the candle of romanticism shines on earth like a sun!
I’m jealous of the cherries that have been in your mouth,” he said, “that they get to make your lips so red.” He kissed her softly, teasing her tongue with his, a lustful wet caress, and Austen was suspended in air. “I’m jealous of every single day before today that I didn’t get to spend with you.
- 'I just... I was thinking of Achilles. It's our anniversarý tomorrow, and I'd really like to get him a present. Maybe I could sneak out tonight and be back in time for... for Patrick's visit tomorrow.'- 'Ohh, what are you going to get him?'Hell. This was torture in itself.- 'A new hammer. One with my name engraved on the side.' - Sure. why not?She sighed happily.- 'That's a cute idea!
I wasn't even that lovable to begin with. I was a selfish ass, but somehow something I did made this man love me, deeply and without reservations. He knew things about me that I would die to keep secret. I trusted him more than I trusted anyone in my life. I mattered to him. He was suffering and I wanted it to stop. I wanted to see him happy. I loved him so much.
I want us to wake up together, to drink coffee from the same cup, to go to sleep at the same time. I want to go out with you, to show you off and around. I want us to eat dinner, then watch some hockey match together and then your melodramas. I promise I will keep your most favorite CD in my car, and we'll listen to it whenever you'll want, even when I know it will drive me insane. I want you to look at me when I am shaving in the mornings and I promise wherever we go I will always look only at you. I want to finally understand why you smell so fresh and flowery, I want to hold your hand, not under the table, but over it. I want us to cook together, to laugh together, to cry together, I want you for worse and for better. I want us to get married some day, have kids,a lot of them, then grow up and even die in one day. I want it all with you. And I get it that I haven't been around for 4 years, but if you still want me, if you still love me like you did all those years ago, I will make up for our lost time.
God, thought Ross, it does work, and unfairly; but I want her, not any other, not the most beautiful eighteen-year-old damsel born out of a sea-shell, not the most seductive houri of any sultan's harem; I want her with her familiar gestures and her shining smile and her scarred knees, and I know she wants me in just the same way, and if there's any happiness more complete than this I don't know it and am not sure I even want it.
Even though I didn’t originally buy it for you, because like an idiot I avoided your feelings like the plague, I hadn’t noticed until now that it wasn’t the lucky price that had drawn me to it, but the colour of it.” I heaved a deep breath, preparing myself. I remembered the last time I had said something so cheesy, and how he had laughed but I continued anyway, before my shyness could take over.“Hurry up, before you start regretting.” The taxi man had said. And I did.I looked him square in the eyes, blushing so furiously I was sure even my dark skin wouldn’t hide it. He met my gaze, somewhat shyly, which was a rare sight. “So I’ve decided to give this necklace to you as a symbol for what I realised today. The colour is green, like your… uh, like your eyes… and your eyes are my kryptonite.” I mumbled, looking at him into the eyes right until the end, until his face turned completely red and his jaw dropping so low I was sure it almost hit the counter, his eyes sparkling, wide with shock.
He was perfect, was how she'd put it to herself. And then that clear-eyed, calm-faced boy would shine forth from Red's sags and wrinkles, from his crumpled eyelids and hollowed cheeks and the two deep crevices bracketing his mouth and just his general obtuseness, his stubbornness, his infuriating belief that simple cold logic could solve all life's problems, and she would feel unspeakably lucky to have ended up with him.
...It had all happened in that instant she had seen Carol standing in the middle of the floor, watching her. Then the realization that so much had happened after that meeting made her feel incredibly lucky suddenly. It was so easy for a man and woman to find each other, to find someone who would do, but for her to have found Carol-
She's got a man's nightshirt on and stockings with holes in them. Somebody else's tie, a gold and green chevroned number, hangs around her neck and just at this moment it looks like a king's mantle draped over her shoulders. Her hair's all loose, her lipstick and eyeliner gone a-roving. She's got a cigar in one hand and a jar full of gin in the other, and she's laughing, laughing like for once that damned chicken crossed the road for something really good.
Yet for a moment it seemed to him that the men who had dragged marble from Italy and porphyry from Portugal, who had ransacked the jungle for its rarest woods and paid their millions to build this opulent and fantastical theatre, had done so in order that a young girl with loose brown hair should move across its stage, drawing her future from its empty air.
Carefully bracing himself so that he wouldn't hurt her, he leaned over and brushed his lips against hers.He raised his head. Her haunted sapphire eyes stared at him."Daemon?" There was so much uncertainty in her voice."Hello, sweetheart," he said, his voice husky with the effort not to cry. "I've missed you."Her hand moved slowly, with effort, until it rested against his face. Her lips curved into a smile. "Daemon."This time, when she said his name, it sounded like a promise, like a lovely caress.
They roared into the Lincoln Tunnel. A wild, inexplicable excitement mounted in Therese as she stared through the windshield. She wished the tunnel might cave in and kill them both, that their bodies might be dragged out together. She felt Carol glancing at her from time to time.
The things you were talking about. The lights and the flowers. Do they expect those things to make them romantic, not the other way around?”“Darling, what do you mean?”“There wasn’t a person there who enjoyed it,” she said, her voice lifeless, “or who thought or felt anything at all. They moved about, and they said the same dull things they say anywhere. I suppose they thought the lights would make it brilliant.”“Darling, you take everything too seriously. One is not supposed to be intellectual at a ball. One is simply supposed to be gay.”“How? By being stupid?
How many wishes do you think we can get out of this?" she asked, but I couldn't tear my eyes way from the sky."How many wishes do you need?""Three."That got my attention, and I turned my head to look at her, but she didn't look away from the sky."A penny for your thoughts?" I wanted to know."Just this once," she smiled, and closed her eyes. "Wish one; I get my dad out of prison. Wish two; Selene stays happy. Wish three..."She stopped."Wish three?" I prompted.She wouldn't look at me, but she squeezed my hand. "Wish three is that I stay with you."There was a lump in my throat, and I squeezed her hand as I looked back up at the sky."Star light, star bright, the many stars I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, keep this girl for the rest of my life
Phillip Murray and Wanda Saxton meet in the last scene under the rainy awning, their wrong wife and fiance finally story-lined away, and walk out together into the downpour - we know from the first scene, Christmas eve, that both of them like walking in the rain but don't have anybody who will do it with them - and it's the miracle of the ending.
As long as I can hear the sweet melody of your words, I need not; The angel’s secret, to be whispered in my ears As long as I can lace your silky fingers round my own, I need not; Pretty diamonds, nor big cash nor gold As long as I can watch the handsome sunshine of your face, I need not; Open skies, nor snowfall, nor the rain As long as I can gaze into the emeralds of your eyes, I need not; New colors, new wings or paradise As long as I can feel the tender tickle of your breath, I need not; The drifting wind, nor its call, nor caress As long as I can feel your soft lips upon mine, I need not; Melted sugar, nor the most expensive of wines As long as I can feel your warm body close to me I need not; A blanket, nor a bonfire's luxury As long as I can see you every morning I wake, I need not; A mirror, nor a cloud, nor shade As long as I can keep you in every petal of memories I need not: Dreams, nor desires, nor fantasies And as long as I can hold you in every moment that I breathe, I need not; Oxygen, nor blood, nor heartbeats.
In the end, Astrid couldn’t do anything about my . . . turning into light, but she made a prediction. She said the sun would help me and I would be cured thanks to its efforts.’‘The sun?’‘Yes. It was the symbol I drew from among the runes. Astrid says it represents . . .’ ‘What?’ he said, looking at me curiously, and I could see that he really wanted to hear the answer. I became embarrassed. ‘It’s not important . . .’ I muttered. ‘Please tell me!’ He turned fully towards me and I could feel myself blushing pink. ‘The . . . man in my life.’I was done for. My heart was beating heavily but Elijah, for the first time since I had awoken, smiled. I was incredibly ashamed of myself, so I made to go back to the house, but the Dark Angel grabbed my wrist.
I have always enjoyed kissing the girls I've kissed in the past but only because I was attracted to them. It didn't really have anything to do with them in particular.When I kissed all the other girls, I felt pleasure. That's why people enjoy kissing, because it feels good.But when you like to kiss someone because of who she is, the difference isn't found in the pleasure.The difference is found in the pain you feel when you're not kissing her.It doesn't hurt when I'm not kissing any of the other girls I've kissed. It only hurts when I'm not kissing Rachel.Maybe this explains why falling in love is so damn painful.I like kissing you, Rachel.
God,” she butted her head into his chest, “I'm so angry with myself.”“What? Why?”“Because … this is my mess I dragged you into, and you don't deserve any of it, and I feel like I'm ruining you with every single thing I say, and…” she lifted her head, eyes shimmering, “I'm a selfish, selfish bitch. Because all I can think about, is whether I'll regret it in three hours, when we walk out of here, and I never know, not even once, what it's like to be with a really nice guy.
Each of us has a heart, a soul, and feelings. Each of us desires to be wanted, to be appreciated, and to be loved.""Making love is not something you do to someone―it's something you share. Lovemaking between men and women should be mutually pleasurably. Both women and men should be fully and completely satisfied.""If women were totally satisfied with their sexual and lovemaking experiences, women would welcome the lovemaking experience as much as men.
If he spoke, he knew that he would break the spell. As soon as she knew her Romeo wasn’t coming she would be disappointed. She would doubtless be angry with him, perhaps even sense that it was somehow his fault.But at this moment she was happy and breathless with anticipation. Tonight was her night and she wanted to be loved.
The budstands for all things,even for those things that don’t flower,for everything flowers, from within, of self-blessing; though sometimes it is necessaryto reteach a thing its loveliness,to put a hand on its browof the flowerand retell it in words and in touchit is lovelyuntil it flowers again from within, of self-blessing
My type has a romantic soul. He'll make my heart and my brain fight over who gets him first. He does what's right, even when it's not easy - actually, especially when it's not easy. He knows the value of discipline, education, honor, and restraint. And his strength of character is the only thing that out weighs the strength of his love for me.
I can’t take the ring. It means—it means too much to you. It’s all you have left of them.”“That’s why it’s better if you have it,” he said, and held out the box, cupped in one hand.“Because you can make it a better memory. I can barely look at this thing without seeing the past. I don’t want to see the past anymore. I want to see the future.” He didn’t blink, and she felt the breath leave her body. “You’re the future, Claire.
He’s silent for a few seconds staring back at me with his soulful blue eyes. Even though he never says a word I can feel his emotions rising up inside him. He reaches out to wipe the tear from my cheek and I feel his love for me, smell it, taste it, his love is intoxicating.
ERIC: What are you always writin' in that book anyway?RODNEY: Poetry.TYRONE: Poetry?Rodney stops sketching and sentimentally flips through a few dozen pages of sketches and handwritten poems and notes.RODNEY: Poetry and pictures. Snapshots of our lives developed in the darkrooms of our souls."From CENTRAL PARK SONG -- a screenplay
My second crush,don’t know, who you are,by thinking of you,my day pass.The things, the things, the things changed,forgot the first, second begins.The second crush,my second crush,don’t know who you are,but, by thinking of you,my day pass.Who you are, i don’t know,but seeing you shed tears.My feelings drop, water stops,in my eyes.The things, the things, the things changed.I fall in love, are you goddess or what.As i came near you,my heart beat rise.Want to stop my legs,but they attracts.Like your tears attract the sand,when they are falling on land.My heart, my heart, my heart beat rise,you came, you came, you are closer to my eyes.I see tears fallen on the ground,my love rotating around you round and round.Now, you are the first,you are the last,that i told you my sweet heart.When i see you first time,it was my last time,to fall in love, my dear valentine.The second crush,my second crush,don’t know who you are,but, by thinking of you,my day pass.The things, the things, the things changed.Now, crush end,time spend,love start,now, you are my life part.:-)
I can’t change the past, Tate. I wish I could, because I’d go back and relive every day that I existed without you, and I’d make sure that you smiled.” My eyes burned with regret, and I saw the pools in her beautiful blues, too. “Every minute of my future belongs to you.
I’ve never had a reason to survive—no reason to question the way things were. I lived because I was told to…now I live because I want to. I survive because I want to know what is outside the deception we’re buried in, and I want to experience it with you. You’re the only person I’ve ever trusted, and now you’re the reason I’m going to fight. I don’t know how we’re going to make it out of here, but we’ll find a way. We’ll find a better life.
Poets often describe love as an emotion that we can't control, one that overwhelms logic and common sense. That's what it was like for me. I didn't plan on falling in love with you, and I doubt if you planned on falling in love with me. But once we met, it was clear that neither of us could control what was happening to us. We fell in love, despite our differences, and once we did, something rare and beautiful was created. For me, love like that has happened only once, and that's why every minute we spent together has been seared in my memory. I'll never forget a single moment of it.
That life is simply a collection of little lives, each lived one day at a time. That each day should be spent finding beauty in flowers and poetry and talking to animals. That a day spent with dreaming and sunsets and refreshing breezes cannot be bettered. But most of all, I learned that life is about sitting on benches next to ancient creeks with my hand on her knee and sometimes, on good days, for falling in love.
I felt bashful, like I had when I'd first told him of An Imperial Affliction. "Um, okay. Okay. 'Let us go, trough certain half-deserted streets,/ The muttering retreats/ Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels/ and sawdust restaurants with oyster shells:/ Streets that follow like a tedious argument/ Of insidious intent/ To lead you to an overwhelming question../Oh, do not ask, "What is it?"/ Let us go and make our visit" "I'm in love with you," he said quietly. "Augustus," I said. "I am, " he said. He was staring at me, and I could see the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I'm in love with you, and I'm not in the business of denying myself the simple pleasure of saying true things. I'm in love with you, and I know that love is just a shout into the void, and that oblivion is inevitable, and that we're all doomed and that there will come a day when all our labor has been returned to dust, and I know the sun will swallow the only earth we'll ever have, and I am in love with you." "Augustus," I said again, not knowing what else to say. It felt like everything was rising up in me, like I was drowning in this wierdly painful joy, but I couldn't say it back. I couldn't say it back. I just looked at him and let him look at me until he nodded, lips pursed, and turned away, placing the side of his head against the window.
Nicolas walked toward him. Ignoring the presence of the others nearby, he took Julien's chin in his hand and kissed him tenderly on the lips. Julien seemed chagrined at first, and then accepted the gesture. It was sweet, and had the air of a couple that had been together for a great long time.Maric glanced away, embarrased by the intimacy, not to mention the fact that he hadn't quite realized the nature of the two warriors' relationship ealier. Not just comrades, then, and far more than close friend. The older Grey Wardens seemed unsurprised.
I never thought of it like that. I always thought of you as a part of me, like my own eyes or my own hands. You don't go around thinking 'I love my eyes, I love my hands', do you? But think what it would be like to live without your eyes or your hands. To be mad, or to be blind. I can't talk about it. It's how I feel.
And you're not leaving," she said. "Promise me."It was as if she had asked him to promise to keep breathing, to notice sunshine, to permit the spinning of the earth. What choice did he have? Even if he left her, she would be camped in his heart, an insistent and willful presence. She would match her strides to his on any journey he ever took; she would lie beside him on any bed.Amalie, he said, "that's the easiest promise I've ever had to make.
I still don't understand anything- exept that somehow I know that You are love. And that in my heart has been so great a love for Christy as I did not know could exist on this earth. You, God, must be responsible. You must have put it there. So what do I do with it now?
Dear God, you are beautiful. I tried to forget, to pretend I did not need you, but it was no use. You haunt my waking hours and my dreams, and though I know if I stay with you my soul my soul will be lost and my life damned, I cannot stay away, nor can I put you from me. So come and let me drown in your bewitching angel’s eyes. Some things bought dearly are worth the price.
I feel like men are more romantic than women. When we get married we marry, like, one girl, 'cause we're resistant the whole way until we meet one girl and we think I'd be an idiot if I didn't marry this girl she's so great. But it seems like girls get to a place where they just kinda pick the best option... 'Oh he's got a good job.' I mean they spend their whole life looking for Prince Charming and then they marry the guy who's got a good job and is gonna stick around.
He turned back to Lara, his alert gaze raking over her tearful face. Somehow the solid reality of his presence eased her panic. He folded her in his arms, anchoring her against his chest, murmuring quietly into her hair.Sniffling, Lara reached inside his waistcoat until her palm rested over the steady beat of his heart. The sensation of his warm breath sinking down to her scalp me her quiver. It was so terribly intimate, crying in his arms... even more personal than making love. But he had never felt so much like a husband to her as he did in this moment. Quieting, she inhaled his familiar scent and let out a shaky sigh.
You don’t fucking get it, do you, Sparks?” Out of sheer frustration, Ben thwacked the wall with his hand. Hard. So hard his palm stung. “I love you. I am so goddamned, madly in love with you, I can’t see straight.” Ben’s voice resonated through the offices, echoed in his own ears. “You’re the first thing I think about in the morning and the last thing I imagine before I fall asleep. I dream about you. Every single night. I live to see you, at the office, at home, anywhere. I just need to see your face. Hold your body. Touch your skin. I need you, Mel. More than I need air. You can’t walk away from me. You can’t love someone else.” He gulped in a breath and almost choked on the emotion clogging his throat, so when he spoke again his voice was scratchy, and much, much softer. “I screwed up. I made you choose. And I’m sorry. So desperately, pathetically sorry for that. But I can’t let you go. I can’t let him have you, because you’re mine. You were made for me, like I was made for you. We’re two peas in a pod, sweetness. We’re the same, you and I. We’re meant to be together.
The other problem is that she hasn’t arrived.”“Oh, yeah? And who is she?” “Well, she is a remarkable, funny, classy woman who can say the word fuck without being trashy. She makes me laugh, is ambitious, loves me because I’m nice, not in spite of it, and is as nice in return. She is simply enchanting.” “Shooting for the stars there, aren’t you, pal?”“Shouldn’t we all?” I didn’t know anymore, although I utterly envied his romanticism.
I mean it today. And tomorrow, it will be today again, and I will mean it for that today. It's always today, Pearl. Don't worry about tomorrow, because it's always today, and every today we have, I will mean it. I will not leave you. Not willingly. Dont't make my mistake. Let me unmake it. Don't throw me away.
The garden shimmered with candlelight from dozens of sweetly scented beeswax tapers set around to illuminate the space. In the center stood her painting table, now neatly draped in a crisp, white linen tablecloth and laid with her best china, crystal and silver.More lighted candles were arranged on the table, a small vase of flowers set in the middle, tender petals of red, pink and ivory adding a pleasing burst of color. More color glowed in the sky, sunset turning the horizon a glorious golden apricot.
You found it,” she announced.I smiled, knowing what she meant. She and I’d had conversations since I was a small child about finding true love. She’d fallen deep with my grampa, who I hadn’t met, he’d died before I was born in a work accident, but she’d never sought out anyone else. She couldn’t imagine her life without him. She’d told me that some people could find love over and over but others found it once and it was so perfect, so ‘it’ that they’d never look elsewhere, even if they lost it. They’d had such good from it that they were topped up for life.
Love. Yes. That’s what I feel for you. Your smile makes me happy and your pain makes me hurt with you. Your unhappiness makes me unhappy. Your body makes me ache and you make me hard with need to be inside you. You are always on my mind and when I am not with you, I want you with me.
I want to kiss you.” It was rather magical, she thought, how those five simple words, said in his lovely deep voice, could set her aflame, like a lamp tipped over and burning up everything in sight. She said: “Well, kiss me then.” “How imperious you are.” He smiled, came close, and set his hand gently under her chin. He bent and touched his lips to hers, lightly, sweetly, and it was as if her whole being rushed to meet him in his kiss. It was light, sweet, tender, caressing, demanding, and fiery hot all at once. How did he do that? There was absolutely no doubt about it. He was an excellent kisser. She could easily get used to this.
I take you as my queen, to protect and honor, to be my light in darkness, my courage in fear, my healing in sickness, my riches in need, my peace in war, my life in death. In token I present to you my sword by which I so swear from this hour henceforth, until death take me or the world end. I name you now Calista Vandal.” (Hero's wedding vow to his bride.)
So, does that make me your girlfriend?”“Do you want to be?”“I’ve never liked that word, actually. It sounds so juvenile. ”He shot her a worried look. “Is there another term you’d prefer?”“I’ve always liked ‘companion of my heart’. Or ‘my better half’. Or maybe even ‘the sun in my universe’.
I pressed inside her, inch by inch, gazing into her face. Her beauty. Mesmerizing. I was awed that I was inside her . . . or nearly. When I came to the barrier of her virginity, I met her eyes, full of trust and wonder, and whispered, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, sweet Lydia. Mo Chroí." And then I pressed inside, tearing her. She cried out in pain. I wanted to comfort her, but it felt so blessedly good that I could only bring my forehead to hers, holding myself still by sheer force of will, gritting my teeth to stop myself from thrusting, while she became used to my invasion. Why did it have to be that something that felt so wonderful to me hurt her?
It’s the same as when I broke the melding bond. Our love doesn’t trump the millions of people in the seven worlds. We must think of the greater good.”He pulled back from me and before I could blink he held my chin in his gentle grip. “And I will tell you again, Abigail, that nothing trumps our love. Nothing.
When a beautiful woman takes an idea firmly into her head, even if the walls are then thousand feet high, she cannot be prevented from carrying it out. But if she rejects it, yet it will be as though a thousand mountains kept you apart.
Right here stood with his arms around me and his lips trailing across my skin I know I’m undeniably in love with this man and even though a part of me knows he will destroy us both I welcome destruction with baited breath.
I was so comfortable. I was warm and cozy, in that blissful, dreamy place between asleep and awake...Until my comfy pillow moved.And the blanket keeping me warm moved.I grumbled at them sleepily, and then my pillow and blanket chuckled.I looked up, trying to make sense of my thoughts, and I saw him.Cameron.My pillow and blanket was Cameron; a half asleep, chuckling Cameron. I groaned and let my head fall back on his chest, his arms tightened around me. "I wondered why my pillow moved."He chuckled again, and I could hear the sound resonate in my ear.
Sometimes you see English people going out to pub, bar or disco with friends, standing awkwardly together drinking beer or gin and tonic and waiting for something ‘romantic’ to happen. Usually nothing happens apart from everybody getting drunk, which is hardly romantic. So, typically, instead of meeting Mr or Miss Right they meet Mr or Miss Right Now, which lasts as long as there is enough alcohol circulating in the blood vessel.
Living in the era of social media and dating apps, online dating is also a very popular dating method in England. It perfectly suits the English person’s superpower: being the invisible man or woman. They also like to keep their distance, and the internet is perfect for that. Also complimenting someone is easier online than offline; you don’t even have to say anything you just press a ‘like’ or a ‘wink’ button and that’s it; perfectly suitable for romantically retarded people.
I lick my lips as I take her in; she’s an enigma. Earlier as I watched her I was sure I had her pegged; pretty, rich, party girl, slightly shy but up for some fun. With my profile of her character in mind I had felt in control. Now that she’s surprised me my grasp on control feels looser. I don’t know what to expect from her and it leaves me feeling off kilter.
Yes, she was the girl playing basketball with all the boys in the park, collecting cans by the side of the road, keeping secret pet kittens in an empty boxcar in the woods, walking alone at night through the rail yards, teaching her little sister how to kiss, reading out loud to herself, so absorbed by the story, singing sadly in the tub, building a fort from the junked cars out in the meadow, by herself in the front row at the black-and-white movies or in the alley, gazing at an eddy of cigarette stubs and trash and fall leaves, smoking her first cigarette at dusk by a pile of dead brush in the desert, then wishing at the stars--she was all of them, and she was so much more that just just her that I still didn't know.
Have you lost your damn mind? Running like that?” He spoke in Spanish. “You’re pushing me over the edge, Antonio.” She pitched her voice so low he could barely hear. “Bringing me to this place, hanging the possibility of my father out in front of me. You are driving me to do crazy things.”“Kiss me,” he whispered into her ear.“Now you’ve lost your mind.
So all I’m saying is take that tiara back out, place it on your head, and prance around like a goddess. Paint your face, paint those pictures, paint the entire world if that’s what youwant. Leave your colorful mark in this school, and together, we’ll wear our hearts on our sleeves and make the area explode with spouts of laughter.
He is in love with the land that is always overThe next hill and the next, with the bird that is never,Caught, with the room beyond the looking glass.He likes the half-hid, the half-heard, the half-lit,The man in the fog, the road without an ending …
I gave you a few laughs and showed you a good time, but there was no future with me. So although it was fun while it lasted, you made up your mind to choose the stability and security a rich man can offer.”She shook her head. “No.”“No?”“If you look in your heart, you know that’s not true.”“So, what is it then, he went into a jealous rage and he threatenedyou?”“Yes.”“With your life?”“No.”“Well then...”“With yours.
But I don't want "good" and I don't want "good enough"I want "can't sleep, can't breathe without your love"Front porch and one more kiss, it doesn't make sense to anybody elseWho cares if you're all I think about,I've searched the world and I know now,It ain't right if you ain't lost your mindYeah, I don't want easy, I want crazyAre you with me baby? Let's be crazy
I have a lot of boo-boos, cowboy.""Maybe I should kiss them." He leaned forward, brushed his lips against her forehead, just above the stitches over her eyebrow.She held up her arm where there was an abrasion. "Hurts here too."He kissed the spot."And here." She pointed to her mouth.He kissed her with a pressure as light as the brush of a butterfly's wing.She thought of a hundred places on her body she wanted him to kiss. "I hurt all over.
Have you ever been in love, Alison?" He leaned in and draped his arm along the back of her chair. "I'm not talking about a crush or infatuation. I'm talking about where you'd do anything for someone. Can't stop thinking about them. Be there if they were sick or just needed a shoulder to lean on. Someone you wanted to wake up to every single day and couldn't wait until you saw them again at night. Someone who made you feel like you're everything you've ever wanted to be.
To a man, professional soldiers despised terrorists, and each would dream about getting them in an even-up-battle; the idea of the Field of Honor had never died for the real professionals. It was the place where the ultimate decision was made on the basis of courage and skill, on the basis of manhood itself, and it was this concept that marked the professional soldier as a romantic, a person who truly believed in the rules.
Remember tonight, for it is the beginning of always. A promise, like a reward for persisting through life so long alone. A belief in each other and the possibility of love. A decision to ignore simply rise above the pain in the past. A covenant, which at once binds two souls and yet severs prior ties. The celebration of the chance taken and the challenge that lies ahead. For two will always be stronger than one. Like a team braced against the tempests of the world. And love will always be the guiding force in our lives. For tonight is mere formality. Only an announcement to the world of feelings long held, promises made long ago in the sacred space in our hearts.
What’s your version of the perfect guy?”“I guess I’d like someone who proves he cares by his actions instead of just saying it all the time.”“That’s reasonable.”“And I’d like someone who has his own life, too. You know I work a lot of hours at the hospital, and I like what I do. I imagine I’d come to resent a guy who expects me to work a nine-to-five schedule just because it fits his needs.”“Anything else?”“But he still has to be—” she cut herself off.“Good in bed?
Julian smiled back, his full lips pulled back over white teeth as he rolled the blanket back a little bit. “Is he really a heart breaker?” “I’m the breakiest of heart breakers,” Leo interjected, his tone deadpan as he dumped a handful of greens into the pot on the stove. Julian wrinkled his nose. “That’s not even a word,” He complained and fell into a sulky silence from his place on the bed.
Her hands slid to his shoulders, his biceps, and dug in as if to hold him here, right here. But he wasn't going anywhere. He liked her hands on him, liked her tongue in his mouth, and when she made that noise deep in her throat, the one that said she was as lost as him, he groaned, both in pleasure and with a good amount of what-the-fuckery, because he knew.He was in trouble. Down to the bone trouble, and he didn't give one single shit.
A miracle happened. Right there and then, in amongst the lunchtime diners and tourists, with the sweeping views of San Francisco Bay outside the window and the sea lions making a racket on the wharf below, a miracle happened. And Samuel lost any hope of recovery. Lily laughed.
Sometimes I believe that love dies but hope springs eternal. Sometimes I believe that hope dies but love springs eternal. Sometimes I believe that sex plus guilt equals love, and sometimes I believe that sex plus guilt equals good sex. Sometimes I believe that love is as natural as the tides, and sometimes I believe that love is an act of will. Sometimes I believe that some people are better at love than others, and sometimes I believe that everyone is faking it. Sometimes I believe that love is essential, and sometimes I believe that only reason love is essential is that otherwise you spend all your time looking for it.
Love can be so hauntingly beautiful, waking up past selves that have been wandering aimlessly through the corridors of our soul, for far too long. When someone else can take us from the ghost-town of our inner-selves, to exciting new landscapes, it's worth the risk, just to feel reborn.
Dear J.,I want to explain something.After my dad set me on fire...Well...He died in jail while I was in the hospital getting skin grafts. And I never got to tell him how much he hurt me. Not just physically, but inside, you know? So I took it out on other things for a while.I'm better now. I get counseling for it, and I'm really better. But I'm not perfect. And I'm still fighting it. See... You're like the only person I have in my life that I really care about. I'm selfish about that. I don't want anybody to touch you. I want to keep you safe. That's why I hate this assignment so much. Now that I have you, I'm afraid to see you get hurt or messed up, like I was. I'm afraid I'll lose you, I guess. I wish you could always be safe. I worry a lot. If you weren't so damned independent...Ah, well. *smile* As much as we have been through in the past few months, we still don't know each other very well, do we? I want to change that about us. Do you? I want to know you better. Know what makes you happy and what scares you. And I want you to know that about me, too.I love you.I will try to never hurt you again.I know I'll screw up. But I'll keep trying, as long as you let me.Love, Cabe
Like a kite, carried by the wind, he followed her into the fluffy white clouds of her imagination. He didn't think her silly for living in the sky, but rather, he marveled at the wondrous life she had created on the outskirts of reality. He knew her love would elevate him to new emotional heights.
And you don't ever have to worry about what I feel. The way I feel about you won't change. You can do whatever you like to me. You could turn this town to dust, burn the woods until they were cinders, you could cut out my heart. It wouldn't matter. It would not change a thing.""What if I ate a baby?"Jared's mouth curved up at the corners, slow and not cruel at all. "I'm sure you'd have a good reason," he said.
I did not matter what distant iron city had raised him. He had been made by Sorry-in-the-Vale, his bones as much a part of it as the valley and the woods. It was as if she had the whole town spread underneath her. Or the whole world, since right then he was the only part of it that mattered.
When she heard about Mitch, it was Roberta that talked me into making the pizza.“You have to!” she’d nearly shrieked. She did this because I’d waxed on perhaps a little too enthusiastically about Mitch’s looks, his warm smile and his neighborly behavior.I shook my head. “I don’t know. He freaks me out.”“Yeah, I get that. Johnny Depp came in and fixed my faucet then told me he wanted to try my pizza that would freak me out too. But I’d still make him my freaking pizza.
And how did you know about that?” Seven looked at his watch. Chase held up a hand. “Let me guess, in two minutes and thirty seconds, I was going to tell you Martin called.”“No.”“No?”“Six minutes and fifteen seconds. You had a couple of false starts. Then you were going to apologize because he wouldn’t help you by putting you in touch with his contacts in Washington.”“Something tells me you’re going to be no fun come Christmas.
You were right the first time, Cathy. It was a stupid, silly story.Ridiculous! Only insane people would die for the sake of love. I'llbet you a hundred to one a woman wrote that junky romantic trash!"Just a minute ago I'd despised that author for bringing about such amiserable ending, then there I went, rushing to the defense. "T. M.Ellis could very well have been a man! Though I doubt any woman writerin the nineteenth century had much chance of being published, unlessshe used her initials, or a man's name. And why is it all men thinkeverything a woman writes is trivial or trashy-or just plain sillydrivel? Don't men have romantic notions? Don't men dream of findingthe perfect love? And it seems to me, that Raymond was far moremushy-minded than Lily!
I’d once had a long-term relationship with a Five Point Five that got nowhere near living together. This was because I was a Two Point Five, he was a Five Point Five and he wanted a Nine Point Five. Therefore, we were both destined for a broken heart. He gave me mine. He later found a Six Point Five that wanted a Nine Point Five. She got herself a breast enhancement and nose job which made her a firm Seven (if you didn’t count the fact that she thought she was a Ten point Five and acted like it which really knocked her down to a Six) who broke his heart.
Women always said he was warm. They snuggled with him in bed, grateful for the heat. A couple of his lovers even claimed that, when he was inside them, he heated them from the inside out.A pleasant flattery, perhaps, but one Hope would discover the truth of. For when she touched him, he did burn.
That's why I don't tell people about us. They wouldn't understand, and 1 don't feel the need to explain, simply because I know in my heart how real it was. When I think of you, I can't help smiling, knowing that you've completed me somehow. I love you, not just for now, but for always, and I dream of the day that you'll take me in your arms again.
It had replayed in her mind, over and over, growing in importance till it seemed her whole life could be slotted into two categories. Life before the kiss, and life after the kiss. Her life before the kiss had moved step by step ever closer to the predestined event. Meeting Dougal. And kissing him.
He smiled at me shyly and took a step closer. I froze, heart pounding, as he put one hand on my cheek and leaned toward me. I swallowed, gazing up at him with what I hoped was an expectant (and not alarmed) expression. He bent his head toward mine and...
You love me?” My brain was mush and I wasn’t sure if it was from his words or the pain pill. Yes, I love you.” His eyes bored into mine.“I love you.” I traced his cheek with my fingers. “Can you tell me again when I’m not on pain medicine?” “I’ll tell you every day.” “Maybe twice a day?” I felt my eyelids growing heavy.“A hundred times a day.
Breathless I look up at him and find him gazing at me with a wonder that my deep-seated insecurity finds hard to believe. Then he does this thing. His fingers start moving on my face, tracing outlines. They trail along my eyebrows, the ridge of my nose, the apple of my cheeks and the line of my jaw. His touch is like feather but his eyes…they blaze and just like that, without saying a single word, he makes me believe.
Again, there were maidens who cherished the firm belief that he had come from the sea. Because within his breast could be heard the roaring of the sea. Because in the pupils of his eyes there lingered the mysterious and eternal horizon that the sea leaves as a keepsake deep in the eyes of all who are born at the seaside and forced to depart from it. Because his signs were sultry like the tidal breezes of full summer, fragrant with the smell of seaweed cast upon the shore.
After a few seconds of scraping, I realize what he has isn’t a trail, it’s a whole forest! Ack! Weren’t all men supposed to shave their chest and stuff nowadays? Whatever happened to having fuzz-free Hollywood heroes as role models? At least my embarrassment is completely foregone by the irritation at his lack of upkeep. The only thing distracting me now is that heady mix of musk, shaving cream and a distinctly…male scent. And God knows that is one seriously jeopardizing distraction. Especially with a whizzing needle in one’s hand.
We stand there, knee deep in the water, holding hands. The silence is thunderous with words we don't speak. I feel his presence beside me like it's an extension of my own body, tall and strong and so, so beautiful. But I can't look at him. Right now, it hurts too damn much.
Put your mouth on mine, Little Raven. I’m ready for a taste of lemon cake,” he said in a deep and tumbling voice.“Maybe I’m not so sweet,” I whispered, wetting my lower lip with a sweep of my tongue.Logan’s eyes followed every movement, and he licked his lips in response. “I want your mouth… on my mouth. Do it, or else I’ll have to find something else to kiss.
Philip. I have never been outside of England. I've never even been to London. Do you know what I would give for your experiences? How could you possibly think you would bore me?" He didn't answer, but there was such a look of delight in his eyes that I had to ask, "Why are you looking at me like that?" "You called me Philip. For the first time.
He lowered his head, his mouth on her neck. “You’re all I think about. I can’t breathe without you in my head, my body, everywhere. Even when I close my eyes, you’re there...” Sera arched her neck and moaned, feeling as if every inch of her skin was begging to be touched by those lips. Unable to stand it any longer, she found his mouth and pushed herself against him, wanting to devour him and, in turn, be devoured by him. She was falling, falling, falling...
Mira Levenson. Aged twelve. Looks, long dark shiny hair, dark brown eyes (almost black), brown skin. Beautiful. Favorite colour, copper orange, I think. Personality, clever, bright, serious, shy, funny without realizing it, holds back her thoughts, mystery girl, arty. What I've noticed: she's stronger than she thinks she is; she doesn't speak much ay school. What I know: she's got a loud laugh (when she lets it out). Her best friend is Millie Lockhart. She doesn't need Millie as much as she thinks she does. Her grandmother is dying and she loves her. She started talking in Pat Print's class. I know she doesn't know how much I think of her, how much I miss her if she's not around. What I think she thinks about me is that I'm a bit of a joker, but I'm deadly serious.Deer...apple...green...sea...See you on Friday!LoveJidé
His breathing was heavy, and full of life. He shivered still, his hand finding Katty unsteady and unprepared of what was going to come next. “I hurt you!” Nico said, his voice raised with worry. “No, not at all, honey, my sweetest Master, but you have me, all of me, the wholeness of me and my darkness.” “You play with the devil dear.” Nico sombered. “No.” Katty defiantly said. “You took my blood and it made me your slave, yet I love every minute of it.”“Tell me you love me Katty.” He said, nearing her closer than close, mending the space between them with the threads of courage. “Tell me you have no fear, nor no weakness against me. Or no shame in loving me.”“I fear you not, my love.” Katty sincerely committed. “I fear only that you will be taken away by the hands of the vampire hunter, and only then, will I fall.
When I touch you, I’m touching you because I want to make you happy. When I kiss you, I’m kissing you because you have the most incredible mouth I’ve ever seen and you know I can’t not kiss it. And when I make love to you—I’m doing exactly that. I’m making love to you because I’m in love with you... I’m touching you because I’m in love with you and for no other reason.
I want to take you for pleasure, and hold you in my arms for desire. I want you to know that it is your kiss that I want, not another heir to the throne. You can know that I love you, quite for yourself, when I come to your bed, and not as the York’s broodmare.”I tilt back my head and look at him under my eyelashes. “You think to bed me for love and not for children? Isn’t that sin?”His arm comes around my waist and his palm cups my breast. “I shall make sure that it feels richly sinful.
Why do you want me?" I asked, suppressing the trembling of my voice. "I’m strange, definitely not perfect, and fucked up. Actually, a lot of the latter.”“Perfect is boring and overrated.” He smiled that lopsided grin of his that made my lower abdomen twist and curl with delicious desire. “I’m looking for sexy, fun, kind, and honest. And you tick all the right boxes, Brooke.
Julia Kline, you’ve spent your whole life running and all you’ve done is run farther away from the love that’s been waiting for you all along. The first time you smiled at me with your two missing teeth you had my undivided attention. When you laugh, I want to laugh with you. When you cry, I want to be the one to hold you. When you said you loved me, you highjacked my heart forever. They say that love is the condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own. Your happiness is what I will spend the rest of my life striving to give you. I love you so much. Will you do the honor of marrying me?
I can wait in silence no longer, but I’m afraid I’m already too late. I am trapped between agony and hope—believing I have no right to speak, but knowing more how much I’d regret it if I did not. Tell me I’m not wrong. Tell me that, this time, you will accept my offer. Because I’m making it again. I want you with me, Elliot. It’s all I have ever wanted. I offer you everything I have—my world, my ship, my self—perhaps they will be enough to replace what I know you would be giving up if you came with me.
Piper went a little crazy. She cried out with relief and dove straight into the water.What was she thinking? She didn't take a rope or a life vest or anything. But at the moment, she was just so happy that she paddled over to Leo and kissed him on the cheek, which kind of surprised him."Miss me?" Leo laughed.Piper was suddenly furious. "Where were you? How are you guys alive?" "Long story," he said. A picnic basket bobbed to the surface next to him. "Want a brownie?
You really think love needs to have a future?”“Absolutely.”“Good,” Lily said. “So do I.”“Good,” I echoed, leaning in. “So do you.”“Don’t repeat what I say,” she told me, swatting at my arm.“Don’t repeat what I say,” I murmured, smiling.“You’re being silly,” she said, but the silliness was falling out of her voice.“You’re being silly,” I assured her.“Lily is the greatest girl who ever was.”I drew closer. “Lily is the greatest girl who ever was.”For a moment, I think we’d forgotten where we were.And then the officers returned, and we were reminded once again.
The feel of her body against his was exhilarating, driving all rational thought from his head. “All right, prepareyourself, Claire Brennan.”She looked up at him curiously. “Prepare myself forwhat?”He gazed at her affectionately. “Repeat your mantra, orwhatever it is you do. Because I’m about to kiss you.
Well, then, he ought to write her a letter. He ought to say: 'This is to tell you that I propose to live with you as soon as this show is over. You will be prepared immediately on cessation of active hostilities to put yourself at my disposal; please. Signed, Xtopher Tietjens, Acting O.C. 9th Glams. A proper military communication.
You remember?' he said incredulously. 'What could you possibly remember?' he asked, staring at her, waiting for the answer.The beauty from within her soul shined brightly through her loving eyes as she looked deep into Noah’s now melting eyes.'I remember — I love you,' she said in a soft voice, nervously biting her lip.
We are staring at each other, forgetting about the harsh reality and I can feel my heart reacting. He touches my cheek and the familiar electric current runs through me. His hands are warm, caressing my pale skin. His deep-blue eyes are filled with serenity and passion. I keep telling myself to breathe, but I am unable to exhale the air from my lungs. Then he leans forward and his lips touch mine, increasing the temperature in my body. He kisses me gently, trying to break his way through, testing to see if I let him in. His lips are sweet and warm. A few seconds later it is all over and he disappears once again, leaving me uncontrollably awake and trying to gather my wild thoughts.
I think I fall into the category of the hopeless romantic, and I think youdo too, because you're here...The tricky thing about us, the hopeless romantic, is when we fall in love with someone, when we say hello—and it’s magical—we never imagine that hello can turn into a goodbye. And when we kiss someone—and it’s magical—we never ever imagine that it can turn into a last kiss.
The lesson learned: never take your loved ones for granted. And if you're ever lucky enough to find that one person in life who makes you love more than any other person could possible make you love, you treat every day together as if it were your last. You cherish every moment.
Yeah, I must have been really bad in a past life or something." He smiled, his eyes still in pain. Reaching up, he touched a strand of mt hair. " Don't leave, OK?""Shhh. I'm not going anywhere." I kept stroking his forehead, trailing my fingers across it. His muscular shoulders gradually relaxed, his eyes closing again. His breathing slowed, became more regular.I could hear the TV on in the other room, the sound of voices. None of it mattered to me. I stayed there until long after Alex had fallen asleep-- gently caressing the vbrow of the boy I loved, trying to keep his pain at bay.
As Robin thought about what he had just said, Noah got up from the chair and knelt down in front of her. 'How about I give you three reasons? Morning, day, and night.'She narrowed her eyes.'Stay… so every morning when I open my eyes, you’ll be the first thing I see. Stay… so every day when I’m with you, I can show you all over again exactly how much you mean to me. And stay… so every night when you lay your head down next to mine, you’ll know… you’ll know just how much you’re loved.'Her eyes drifted to the water as she thought for a moment, returning to look deep into Noah’s eyes.'Okay, Noah… I’ll stay.
Out of the corner of his eye Gatsby saw that the blocks of the sidewalks really formed a ladder and mounted to a secret place above the trees—he could climb to it, if he climbed alone, and once there he could suck on the pap of life, gulp down the incomparable milk of wonder.
I have tried to tell him in a dozen different ways that I am only six inches tall. I've told him I am as tall as his heart, that he could hold all of me in his hand, that I am shorter than I appear. Every time, he's acted as though I'm saying something romantic or poetic.
Sometimes the ones we love are like butterflies, flitting all over, and we have to sit and wait patiently for them to land. Sometimes they never do, and that’s a risk we take. But sometimes what they need most is to see us sitting still, patient, waiting. To understand that we’re going to be there no matter what, that we’re the ones who are always sitting there waiting, loyal, loving. Sometimes that’s more powerful than any words.
There were nights for instance, especially in August, where the view of the full moon from the top of the Acropolis hill or from a high terrace could steal your breath away. The moon would slide over the clouds like a seducing princess dressed in her finest silvery silk. And the sky would be full of stars that trembled feebly, like servants that bowed before her. During those nights under the light of the August full moon, the city of Athens would become an enchanted kingdom that slept lazily under the sweet light of its ethereal mistress.
A radical love story is the only device that makes the time-chariot of a village, a city, a country, gallop faster. Such a love story pulls the wheels of that chariot from a murky, regressive past towards a spotlessly clean road under autumn-blue skies. And for that chariot to move forward, to bring change in the village, you don’t have to be conscious of being a radical. You just have to fall in love.
And I love you, William." Kiss."You can make any changes you wish." Kiss."Thank you, but I love everything exactly as it is." Kiss."You will stay with me each night?" Kiss."Forever, and all day, too, until you are sick of me." Kiss."That will never happen!" Kiss."I can be annoying at times." Kiss."Do you truly think me a baby?" Kiss."Only occasionally, beloved, and in the most endearing way. Now hush and kiss me!"Darcy complied with abundant enthusiasm.
Yet despite...accommodations with commerce, Möser regarded the market as primarily a threat--to the artisanal citizens of the town, to the traditional wants of the peasantry, and to the political structure to society, since it created a growing class of people outside the traditional paternalistic relations of the countryside. Möser's conception of contemporary political and economic trends in Osnabrück was essentialy tragic and tinged with that idealization of the past that would later be called romantic. Möser's heroes were the artisan-citizen and the independent peasant, his villains the shopkeeper and the peddler.
She fell silent, remembering the jolt of envy and longing she’d felt when she’d framed the Browns in her viewfinder. Now, weeks and miles later, it was another jolt for Bryan to realize she hadn’t brushed off the peculiar feeling. She has managed to put it aside, somewhere to the back of her mind, but it popped out again now as she thought of the couple in the bleachers of a small-town park.Family, cohesion. Bonding. Did some people just keep promises better than others? she wondered. Or where some people simply unable to blend their lives with someone’s else, make those adjustments, the compromises?When she looked back, she believed both she and Rob had tried, but in their own ways. There’d been no meeting of the minds, but two separate thought patterns making decisions that never melded with each other. Did that mean that a successful marriage depended on the mating of two people who thought along the same lines?With a sigh, she turned onto the highway that would lead them into Tennessee. If it was true, she decided, she was much better off single. Though she’d met a great many people she liked and could have fun with, she’d never met anyone who thought the way she did. Especially the man seated next to her with his nose already buried in the newspaper. There alone they were radically different.”For more quotes visit my blog: frommybooks.wordpress.com
We didn't have to talk, and it wasn't awkward. We were just two lonely, out of place people sharing a holiday with junk food from the vending machine and a Claymation classic on the television." oh and later "I guess its a good thing we found each other then.
I'm giving you everything I have, Triss. I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine. No matter what storms lay ahead of us, I know that as one we can make it. I'm not perfect by anyone's standards but you make me want to strive to be the best person I can be." - Logan
Okay," she said as he lit the candle and hummed the birthday song. "You know,this is all very Jake Ryan of you.""Who's Jake Ryan?""The hottie from Sixteen Candles—the best teenage movie ever made. The last scene looks just like this," she said, looking around the room."All right, well, don't you go wishing for him when you blow out the candle.""I love you,Jace. You're the only thing I want.
Right now I'll just be happy if you let me know what would you like to have in breakfast ." She swiftly moved from the platform to the fridge and took some bell peppers out of it. I spotted a bowl of boiled noodles. Perhaps, I would be fine with some change in my menu."some noodles will just be fine,a glass of orange juice." I put my glass in the sink and stepped back to have a better view of her amazing body. "and a bed full of you." I added. Oops, I think that was pretty shameless.-Abstruse.
On the flat expanse of pancake ice, War stood by the Pale Rider’s side. Though their forms did not touch, their shadows intertwined, black on black, in a smoky caress.“Knew you’d come,” Death said cheerfully.She smiled, and that slow motion of her lips hinted at many things. “The White Rider divided, and the world on the brink of destruction. How could I stay away?”“I could set my watch by you.”“You don’t have a watch.” Her smile broadened into a grin. “An hourglass, maybe . . .”“Please, not another joke about a scythe . . .”She mimed zipping her mouth shut.A pause, as they listened to the sounds of the boy healing and the man summoning doom.“I like him,” War said.Even though she hadn’t specified whether she meant the boy or the man, Death smiled and nodded. “Me too.”“You like everyone.”“Well, yes.”The two shared a quiet laugh, their voices mingling in perfect harmony.A longer pause, and then War asked, “What of Famine?”“What of her? She’s not mine. Not yet, anyway. She will be soon enough.”The Red Rider slid him a look. “That’s cold, even for you.”“Eh, just practical.” A shrug. “Everyone comes to me eventually. It’s the journey that makes it interesting.”“Such a people person!”He flashed her a grin. “My best quality.”“Oh,” said War, sliding her gloved hand into his pale one, “I can think of others that are better.
It took me years to get over you. Truth is, I never did fully get over you. I just learned to live without you. I can't ever do that again. It almost killed me. And as much as I would love to kiss you right now, I have to protect myself. It can't happen. I'm sorry.
...Gabrielle and Elaine seemed to hit it off by talking books — something trending about a very young billionaire and his obsession with an even younger woman...and sex. Lots of erotic sex scenes in the book like apparently on every page...Who has time? Why even read about sex in a book when you can have it instead? I don't get that. And billionaires in their twenties? I mentally shook my head and pretended to care. I'm such a bastard.
Which is your bad shoulder?"His brows knit together. "The left," he said carefully.She slugged him in the right.He staggered. Steadied himself. Grinned. "Is that like some weird Wyoming mating ritual thing I should know about?""Damn you," she cried, flying into his arms. Finally. "Damn you, damn you, damn you!"He wrapped his arms around her, held her tight. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was such a coward.
Just give me a bit, let me pretend you're still alive," Andrei said hoarsely. "Let me pretend that I don't have to give you up.""Andrei," Warm, calloused hands cupped Anrei's face. "Look at me. I'm real. I'm still with you. A part of me will always be with you. Even after I go through that doorway.