Dark And Romantic Quotes & Sayings

Ariadne made an impression on you, and that's great. But life is not literature. Sooner or later, the spell wears off, the romantic feelings disappear, and you're left watching somebody's body disintegrate. You start with a love story, you end up manacled to an hourglass, watching the sands run out. — Paul Murray

She was going to get another glass of champagne, enjoy herself and get to know her new co-workers. The thought came to an abrupt halt as she opened the bedroom door and found Quinn leaning against the wall opposite her, almost casually. But she wasn't fooled by his stance.
Nothing about him was casual. Those muscular arms were crossed over his broad chest and there was an almost predatory gleam in those dark eyes. No, that look on his face couldn't be mistaken for anything but raw lust. — Katie Reus

Don't you believe any man who makes you feel like you were just a one-time thing." His arms tighten around me and his words tickle my ear, "You could never be any man's forgettable moment." He holds me away from him and I feel ridiculously like I could melt in the dark pools of his eyes. "You are a force to be remembered, Dacie Mae. — Gwenn Wright

I undid the wrappings with great curiosity, for Holmes did not normally give gifts. I opened the dark velvet jewller's box and found inside a shiny new set of picklocks, a younger version of his own. Holmes, ever the romantic. Mrs. Hudson would be pleased. — Laurie R. King

She had read too many romantic novels of a dark and dreary bent to really be surprised - The Castle of Otranto was one of her favorite English reads. For all intents and purposes, she was the overwrought, terrified heroine wandering around a cursed castle at night, seeing things in the shadows, jumping at noises. Plus — Liz Braswell

Girl lithe and tawny, the sun that forms
the fruits, that plumps the grains, that curls seaweeds
filled your body with joy, and your luminous eyes
and your mouth that has the smile of the water.
A black yearning sun is braided into the strands
of your black mane, when you stretch your arms.
You play with the sun as with a little brook
and it leaves two dark pools in your eyes. — Pablo Neruda

How she listened, the first time, to the sonorous lamentations of romantic melancholia echoing out across heaven and earth! If her childhood had been spent in the dark back-room of a shop in some town, she would now perhaps have been kindled by the lyric surgings of nature which only normally reach us as through the interpretation of a writer. — Gustave Flaubert

The guilt over his secret was eating him up alive, but hell, the feel of her in his arms threatened to override all of it. This was Maria, the woman he'd fantasized about for almost a decade. In his arms.
He shifted again and tried to pull his hips back, but Maria snuggled tighter against him, hooking one leg over his hip.
Fuck.
Yeah, he had to get out of here. It was still dark outside, so maybe he could salvage a few hours and get some rest in his own bed. She'd just asked him to stay until she fell asleep. Which he'd done. Now it was time to relocate.
Slowly he reached back and lightly grasped her wrist, moving her hand so that she wasn't wrapping her arm around him. Next, he tried to do the same with her leg. Grasping her silky-smooth thigh, he froze when she let out a tiny moan in her sleep. And when she practically ground against him, he groaned.
Couldn't help it. She felt so good the sound just escaped - and woke her up. — Katie Reus

His dark eyes were on the road ahead, thoughtful. "No. I was hoping to go back to Tucson and see if I could get this hot chick I know to go out with me. I hear she's in demand, though. She keeps putting me off each time I try to plan something romantic."
"Yeah, well, maybe if you come up with a good itinerary, you could lure her out."
"I was thinking dinner at Joe's."
I made a face. "If that's the case, maybe you'd better brace yourself for rejection."
"Red Pepper Bistro?"
"Okay. Now you're in the zone."
"Followed by a long massage in the sauna."
"That's pretty good too."
"And then indecent things in the sauna."
"I hope you mean you'll be doing the indecent things - because I more than did my share last night."
Kiyo glanced over at me with a mischievous grin. "Who says I'm talking about you? — Richelle Mead

Julia Roberts and Sandra Bullock do romantic comedies. I do dark dramas. I do these movies well. — Jodie Foster

I have loved you from the moment you opened your eyes, and I will continue to love you long after I close mine. I will always be yours Aurora. I don't exist without you. — Nathalie Saade

I am eternally, devastatingly romantic, and I thought people would see it because 'romantic' doesn't mean 'sugary.' It's dark and tormented - the furor of passion, the despair of an idealism that you can't attain. — Catherine Breillat

She knocked at the door, expecting a friendly greeting because of the atmosphere of this house, but, instead, the door opened just a crack and dark eyes stared at her for a moment. Then the door gradually opened and an elderly woman grabbed
Amelia's hand and yanked her inside.
Hurry! Get inside! — Linda Weaver Clarke

Glad you like my first tableau. Come and see number two. Hope it isn't spoilt; it was very pretty just now. This is 'Othello telling his adventures to Desdemona'."
The second window framed a very picturesque group of three. Mr March in an armchair, with Bess on a cushion at his feed, was listening to Dan, who, leaning against a pillow, was talking with unusual animation. The old man was in shadow, but little Desdemona was looking up with the moonlight full upon her face, quite absorbed in the story he was telling so well. The gay drapery over Dan's shoulder, his dark colouring and the gesture of his arm made the picture very striking and both very striking, and both spectators enjoyed it with silent pleasure, till Mrs Jo said in a quick whisper:
"I'm glad he's going away. He's too picturesque to have among so many romantic girls. Afraid his 'grand, gloomy and peculiar' style will be too much for our simple maids. — Louisa May Alcott

He's barely finished himself inside me when my release hits. My thighs tense. The breath stalls in my lungs, and then I kick back my head and let out the loudest, throatiest, and most breathless moan in the history of all history, going boneless in a blissful rush.
"Gods, I missed you," Griffin rasps, holding me as I throb around him.
The high-impact tremors fade into sweet, lingering aftershocks. I look up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. My lips part, but no words come out. Even the drag of frosty air over my kiss-swollen lips is almost too sensual to bear.
Griffin quirks a dark eyebrow, looking smug. "That was easy."
I grin, falling in love with him all over again. "Then do it again. — Amanda Bouchet

Some times we choose our fate," she said. "Other times it's chosen for us."
The cleft between his dark brows deepened and his jaw clenched then released. "And sometimes its what we make it. — Megan Mitcham

As the tall dark and handsome male star, Carey Grant always stands for male beauty and desirability, whether in a 30s screwball, a 40s film noir, or a 50s romantic comedy. He consequently turns around the orthodox gender between the one who looks and so desires, and the one who is looked at, and so is being desired. — Steven A. Cohen

I am in love with your sleepy voice and crooked smile.
I am in love with your passion, for me and for life.
I am in love with your wisdom, gained from what has been lost and what is to come.
I am in love with the soft curls of your hair and dark hazel eyes.
I am in love with your sensitivity, your drive to always do better and be better.
I am in love with how you take me for who I am.
I am in love with your romantic side and with your serious side.
I am in love with the comfort you emit,
your ability to be my home when you're a thousand miles away.
I am in love with how you look at me.
I am in love with your motivation and your support for my silly dreams.
I am in love with your accessibility, my shoulder to cry on, my protector at three a.m. when I have nowhere else to turn.
And I am in love with the way you love me. — Shelby Leigh

The twins were nineteen, soon to be twenty, but one could be excused for thinking they were younger than their actual age. Raised in an atmosphere largely devoid of authority, they had run free on a country estate with few diversions other than those they created for themselves. Their parents had spent much of their time in London society, leaving their daughters in the care of servants, governesses, and tutors. None of them had been able or willing to take a firm hand with them.
To be certain, Pandora and Cassandra were high-spirited but also affectionate, intelligent, and endearing. And they were as beautiful as a pair of pagan goddesses, both of them long-limbed and glowing with health. Pandora was perpetually disheveled and full of energy, her dark hair falling from its pins as if she'd just been running through the woods. Cassandra, the golden-haired twin, was more compliant and romantic in nature, more willing to abide by rules. — Lisa Kleypas

I like things that start depressing and dark and end up romantic, and that's what I really loved about 'King Kong.' — Petra Haden

Hey, Adam," I said.
I thought you'd want to know that Warren and Darryl made it out of the vampire den alive."
I sucked in my breath. "You didn't actually agree to their meeting on Marsilia's grounds?"
He laughed. "No, it just sounded better than saying they made it out of Denny's alive. It might not be romantic, but it's open all night and set in the middle of a brightly lit parking lot with no dark places for skulking parties to ambush from. — Patricia Briggs

Adventure is just a romantic name for trouble. It sounds swell when you write about it, but it's hell when you meet it face to face in a dark and lonely place. — Louis L'Amour

A gang of unpredictable ruffians by day who turned to enthralling storytellers after dark. I would sometimes join them, and listen for a great part of the night to some of the finest fairy tales and most romantic legends it has ever been my fortune to hear. — Russell S. Bonds

She paused and saw him tense in expectation. He wouldn't like to hear this, but better from her than one of the others. "You aren't the only pilot I have in my service. And you aren't the only person with a dark past, though the illegal things that you did, you were forced to do by the Core. But I will tell you what I've told the others. This is your last chance. You screw up with me and you get shipped up river. I don't offer second chances - I offer last chances."
Nope, he didn't like it. She saw the hand not holding the bottle of beer curl into a fist.
Sin and Del, from Sunscapes Trilogy, Book 1: Last Chance — Michelle O'Leary

He had always wanted Daisy, with an intensity that seemed to radiate from the pores of his skin. She was sweet, kind, inventive, excessively reasonable yet absurdly romantic, her dark sparkling eyes filled with dreams. She had occasional moments of clumsiness when her mind was too occupied with her thoughts to focus on what she was doing. She was often late to supper because she had gotten too involved in her reading. She frequently lost thimbles and slippers and pencil stubs. And she loved to stargaze. The never-forgotten sight of Daisy leaning wistfully on a balcony railing one night, her pert profile lifted to the night sky, had charged Matthew with the most blistering desire to stride over to her and kiss her senseless. — Lisa Kleypas

He'd stared into her eyes, dark with confusion and unwilling passion, and for one stark, horrible instant, he'd wished to be that different man. He'd wished to be worthy of her. — Anna Campbell

She saw a lone figure running across the dark parking lot toward her, a weapon in his hands. ...*Not again.* And this time she was all alone. No Cole Walker, heroic police detective and star in too many of her fantasies, to save her. — Elizabeth Heiter

I make love with a focus and intensity that most people reserve for sleep. — Dark Jar Tin Zoo

If I were given a choice between two films and one was dark and explored depraved, troubled or sick aspects of our culture, I would always opt for that over the next romantic comedy. — David Schwimmer

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. — Keira D. Skye

Except with their life mate. I'd convinced myself those women possessed a secret love potion they weren't sharing with the general public - one that tamed the primitive ways of a Shifter and made them do romantic things like buy flowers and rub their woman's feet with scented oils. — Dannika Dark

I definitely fell in love with 'Dracula' when I was 13. I found it so fascinating and so dark and romantic. — Sara Canning

When she finally crashed back to earth, Luke's dark eyes were focused on her face. "Did you really just come?" he demanded, his voice a cross between a growl and a groan.
She let out a ragged breath. "Uh-huh."
"Fuck, that's hot." He ground his pelvis into her. "Do it again. — Elle Kennedy

Weirdly, all the wood, dark walls, moody lighting, and oxblood leather makes the room kind of soft and romantic ... I know it's anything but; this is Christian's version of soft and romantic. — E.L. James

For a while he'd tried molding himself into the tragic Romantic hero, brooding and staring clench-jawed off into space as he composed dark verse in his head. But it turned out that trying to appear tragic in Incontinence, Indiana, was redundant, and his mother kept shouting at him and making him forget his rhymes. "Tommy, if you keep grinding your teeth like that, they'll wear away and you'll have to have dentures like Aunt Ester." Tommy only wished his beard was as heavy as Aunt Ester's
then he could stare out over the moors while he stroked it pensively. — Christopher Moore

There were no romantic ships passing in the night. It was more like dinghies in the dark: Awkward, slow and hard to handle, quickly capsizing without ever finding land. — Candace Vianna

I've never done an actual Western, and I would love to do that. I've done drama and dark comedy stuff. I've never really done a romantic comedy either. I would do that. — Max Thieriot

There in the dark her memory was refreshed, and she succumbed to her earlier dreams. Along with the idea of romantic love, she was introduced to another - physical beauty. Probably the most destructive ideas in the history of human thought. Both originated in envy, thrived in insecurity, and ended in disillusion. In equating physical beauty with virtue, she stripped her mind, bound it, and collected self-contempt by the heap. She forgot lust and simple caring for. She regarded love as possessive mating, and romance as the goal of the spirit. It would be for her a well-spring from which she would draw the most destructive emotions, deceiving the lover and seeking to imprison the beloved, curtailing freedom in every way.
Toni Morrison, The Bluest Eye — Toni Morrison

Dylan and Leonard Cohen and Patti Smith, all dark, all romantic. When I say "romantic," I mean a sensibility that sees everything, and has to express everything, and still doesn't know what the fuck it is, it hurts that bad. It just madly tries to speak whatever it feels, and that can mean vast things. That sort of mentality can turn a sun-kissed orange into a flaming meteorite, and make it sound like that in a song. — Jeff Buckley

I used to rush into strange dreams at night: dreams many-coloured, agitated, full of the ideal, the stirring, the stormy
dreams where, amidst unusual scenes, charged with adventure, with agitating risk and romantic chance, I still again and again met Mr. Rochester, always at some exciting crisis; and then the sense of being in his arms, hearing his voice, meeting his eye, touching his hand and cheek, loving him, being loved by him
the hope of passing a lifetime at his side, would be renewed, with all its first force and fire. Then I awoke. Then I recalled where I was, and how situated. Then I rose up on my curtainless bed, trembling and quivering; and then the still, dark night witnessed the convulsion of despair, and heard the burst of passion. — Charlotte Bronte

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 ... — J.M. Richards

What would happen if I tried to escape?" I asked.
I didn't see anyone else. If I outran Loki, I could probably get away. Not that I knew where to go, and I still wouldn't be able to free Matt and Rhys.
"I would stop you," he replied simply.
"The same way Kyra did at my house?" A pain flared up in my ribs, as if reminding me of the damage she'd caused/
"No." Something dark flickered across his face for a second. He quickly erased it and smiled at me. "I would simply take you in my arms and hold you there until you swooned."
"It sounds romantic when you say it that way." I wrinkled my nose, remembering how he'd made me pass out by staring into my eyes. It hadn't been painful, but it hadn't exactly been pleasant either.
"It is when I envision it. — Amanda Hocking

Dark brown nipples and perfect, pert breasts just a little more than a handful. Her abdomen was flat and toned, as if she worked out or ran. "You are built for sin," he murmured, looking up at her as he spoke. — Katie Reus

Madmen, criminals, and rapists! Isn't it fantastic? All the romantic proposals I've ever got from anybody. Somebody up there has an extremely dark sense of humour. — Olga Nunez Miret

A man should be more original than a bouquet of roses and a box of chocolates. Flowers die and sugar sticks to your hips like a permanent record to a criminal. — Dannika Dark

Impertinent submissive," Raoul snapped, and his dark brown eyes turned mean. "Nothing new for this one. You're doing a lousy job of bringing her to heel, Marcus."
"Bring me to heel? Like I'm a dog?" Without thinking, Gabi instinctively yanked away and snapped out, "Bite me. — Cherise Sinclair

We're coming near to the end of the bridge, and the road is once more bathed in the neon light of the street lamps so his face is intermittently in the light and the dark. And it's such a fitting metaphor. This man, whom I once thought of as a romantic hero, a brave shining white knight - or the dark knight, as he said. He's not a hero; he's a man with serious, deep emotional flaws, and he's dragging me into the dark. Can I not guide him into the light? — E.L. James

I'm not a huge fan of romantic comedimes- my taste goes much more to the offbeat and dark. I'd love to sink my teeth into something like 'Fargo — Courteney Cox

People expect me to be dark and gloomy, then write that I'm a jolly chap, and after all, that is what I am. I think it's a case of an absolute romantic naivety that there should be a parallel between the work and the artist. — Michael Haneke

He pinned me in place with a direct look, his dark brown eyes smoldering. "You're Mary Jane," he said finally. "And you have all these Flash Thompsons and Harry Osborns hovering around you, trying to make a move. Because ... you're basically amazing. — J.M. Richards

The morning light played up his hazel eyes and for a moment I was caught in his allure. The dark brows, the dark hair, the tan skin. A weaker woman would have thrown herself at him a long time ago. — R.S. Grey

A shaft of sunlight pierced the dark cluds and she looked up to see a silver lining. It was a sign, she thought. — Diane Grifith

I have an image of a woman with a romantic kind of beauty and an orderly, logical mind." "Hunter - " "Wait, I'm just fleshing her out. She's ambitious, full of nerves, highly sensuous without being fully aware of it." He could see her eyes change, growing as dark as the sky above them. "She's caught in the middle of something she can't explain or understand. Things happen around her and she's finding it more and more difficult to distance herself from it. And there's a man, a man she desires but can't quite trust. He doesn't offer her the logical explanations she wants, but the illogic he offers seems terrifyingly close to the truth. If she puts her trust in him, she has to turn her back on most of what she believes is fact. If she doesn't, she'll be alone. — Nora Roberts

All things considered, it had been his home, and the set of kindly, well-meaning, gentle-mannered people driven to death or exile for the sole crime of their existing, was the set to which he too belonged. His dark youthful broodings, the romantic - and let me add, somewhat artificial - passion for his mother's land, could not, I am sure, exclude real affection for the country where he had been born and bred. — Vladimir Nabokov

Will you do me a favor?" Declan asked.
If he looked at her with those dark, intoxicating eyes, she was likely to do anything he asked.
"Maybe."
"Any more dreams you have, no matter how small, will you tell me about them?"
"Even the ones that star you?" The almost flirty quiestion slipped out before she could stop herself.
A slow grin spread across his fallen-angel face. The man just looked as if he wanted to do wicked things -- and she'd let him.
"Especially those. — Katie Reus

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. — Dannika Dark

...She froze in the doorway of her kitchen.
And nearly swallowed her tongue.
Ivan leaned against the counter, wearing nothing but dark jogging pants and holding a cup of coffee. His blond hair was spiked adorably, as if he hadn't combed it yet. the sculpted muscles of his chest and shoulders stood out as he raised the cup to his mouth, a bright tattoo of intricate artwork wrapping around one shoulder and over one pec.
What she'd imagined he might look like was nothing compared to the reality of the Viking god in her kitchen. Her gaze trained on that ridiculously muscular chest and it was like she'd lost the ability to speak. Or breathe. Or, you know, think. — Katie Reus

Pale, with dark hair, the one who is coming is melancholy, romantic. And I am arch and fluent and capricious; for he is melancholy, he is the romantic. He is here. — Virginia Woolf

Wakefield," she gasped, as her world began to tighten, as her hands fisted onto his jacket, her eyes grew wide open and looking at him.
They were still dark, still dangerous, so very full of passion, but she would have followed him, devil that he was, anywhere in that moment.
She was lost and he would show her the way.
"Pierson," he whispered back, his finger delving into her, sliding over her sex and sliding back inside her. Deeper. Harder.
She rocked against him, rode his touch, his strokes.
And when she said his name again, called it, gasped it, it was because he'd taken her over that edge, carried her into a world she couldn't have imagined.
"Pierson!" she cried out, her body quaking, falling, rising all at once. "Oh, Pierson, yes!"
For now she knew the way. — Elizabeth Boyle

In The Blank Slate I argued that the modern denial of the dark side of human nature - the doctrine of the Noble Savage - was a reaction against the romantic militarism, hydraulic theories of aggression, and glorification of struggle and strife that had been popular in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. — Steven Pinker

As he started making a pot of coffee he glanced out his kitchen window and into his neighbor's window and froze. He had the perfect view of his new neighbor. She was beautiful. Scratch that. The word didn't even come close to describing her.

She didn't seem very tall, though it was hard to measure. Her dark wavy hair cascaded down over her shoulders, reaching just below her breasts. Very full breasts. Definitely enough to fill his palms. And the tight tank top she was wearing left very little to the imagination. It was obvious she'd just woken up as she rubbed a hand over her face and reached for the coffee pot. Look away, he ordered himself.

But he was rooted to the spot. — Katie Reus

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. — R.B. O'Brien

For those who've never experienced a sunrise in the rural midwest, it's roughly as soft and romantic as someone's abruptly hitting the lights in a dark room. — David Foster Wallace

Bryce looked like a California underwear model. Not that I'd thought about him in his underwear.
Much.
He was talking with his friend Nathan. Where Bryce had the whole tan, blond, hazel-eyed thing going on, Nathan was fair with dark hair and dark eyes. They looked like opposite sides of the same coin. A really hot, totally unreachable coin that a collector would keep in a special locked case, which normal girls like myself were not allowed to touch. — Chris Cannon

Ella knew she should be horrified. Zane had killed someone for just touching her. But, and she might burn in hell for thinking this, she thought it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her. In a perverted way, she also found it romantic. She finally had someone who wanted to protect her. My very own vampire in dark armor. — Eve Langlais

In the middle of the house stood the largest, scariest man she'd ever seen. Senhor Finch had been sunshine, but this foreigner was a night storm. He seemed to fill the house like a dark cloud. Too big, too strong, his gaze too sharp on her. And as she turned to flee, he thundered, "Stop!"
And the next second, the man had her arm in his grip. — Dana Marton

No touching? Screw that. She was going to touch tall, dark and sexy all over. This was her dream. — Katie Reus

Theodore Finch leans against an SUV, hands in pockets, like he has all the time in the world and he expects me. I think of the Virginia Woolf lines, the ones from The Waves: Pale, with dark hair, the one who is coming is melancholy, romantic. And I am arch and fluent and capricious; for he is melancholy, he is romantic. He is here. — Jennifer Niven

She tied him a fly, using a pattern she'd designed, one that had given her untold luck with those silvery fish, those fighting steelhead. She was anxious for his return.
"Does it have a name?" he said, when she gave it to him.
"The Predator." She smiled. A little embarrassed.
His eyes turned dark, and her heart beat faster. His voice dipped low. "It's a fine name."
He regarded her for several heavy, silent beats. She felt an atavistic pull, the hairs on her arms rising toward him, as if in electrical attraction. He leaned closer and her mouth turned dry. And he told her about the wild blueberries. Down by the bend in the river.
She took the lure.
She went in search of the berries.
She never came home. — Loreth Anne White

Nice slippers," Davin grinned. They were green and furry. "Thanks." I shrugged and looked him over, half expecting to see a new injury. "So what's up?" He had one hand behind his back. — J.M. Richards

You are the most dangerous kind of female the world can ever know. You carry the seeds for your own destruction and the destruction of everyone who loves you. And a great many will love you for your beautiful face for your seductive body; but you will fail them all because you will believe they all fail you first. You are an idealist of the worst kind - the romantic idealist. Born to destroy and self destruct. — V.C. Andrews

He held up his hand, and in it was ...
Oh, God.
The neon-pink vibrator, glowing in the dark now. It was following her, stalking her, all the way down the yellow brick road to hell. — Jill Shalvis

I can feel Ari's mounting excitement the farther we walk. She's bouncing up and down like a kangaroo on speed. I feel the bulk of the box pressing against my leg as we walk, and I contemplate all that I've decided to tell her tonight. Lifting my head, I stare in awe at the light of a thousand stars illuminating the dark, night sky. The setting really couldn't be any more romantic, any more perfect. — Siobhan Davis

Nash." Lola nodded toward the disappearing SUV. "Deputy Grayson." She grinned. "His first name is Nash. He's one of the four Grayson brothers. Every last one of them is tall, dark and so handsome they'll make your panties damp. — Elle James

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. — Virginia Alison

The first time I ever saw your face, I thought the sun rose in your eyes and the moon and the stars were the gifts you gave to the dark and empty sky, my love. — Ewan MacColl

It is said that years ago a skilled mage, perhaps the most gifted our world has known, chose the dark arts. His outlook became twisted, and the things and people touching his life became twisted as well. He knew that a mage and Source, linked by partnership, could wield much greater power than he could by himself. He also knew that if he linked with a Source, he might not be able to fully control that partnership. He thought it best, therefore, to eliminate any possible competition - by annihilating the Sources. — Cate Rowan

Daisy Bowman, Lillian's young sister, had an out-sized personality that belied her small, slight frame. Idealistic and possessed of a decidedly whimsical bent, she devoured romantic novels populated with rogues and villains. However, Daisy's elfin facade concealed a shrewd intelligence that most people tended to overlook. She was fair-skinned and dark-haired, with eyes the color of spiced gingerbread... mischievous eyes with long, spiky lashes. — Lisa Kleypas

The course of mankind's progress is not a straight, automatic line, but a tortuous struggle, with long detours or relapses into the stagnant night of the irrational. Mankind moves forward by the grace of those human bridges who are able to grasp and transmit, across years or centuries, the achievements men had reached
and to carry them further. Thomas Aquinas is one illustrious example: he was the bridge between Aristotle and the Renaissance, spanning the infamous detour of the Dark and Middle Ages. — Ayn Rand

For Fleur de Chine, I imagined the romantic and mysterious women from Asia's cinematic past-from the '30s femme fatale in a cheongsam and dark lipstick, to the'60s Hong Kong heroine of In the Mood for Love. I wanted to capture that fascinating, exquisite and slightly scandalous femininity. — Tom Ford

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. — Kerrelyn Sparks

These were not the belongings of the past prisoner he had imagined. These were a lady's things - hairpins and stockings and a glove. There were more clues waiting but William no longer felt certain he wanted to know the dark secrets of this cell. — Gwenn Wright

If you were mine Oh my what would I do to be his? He's the only man who has ever set the blood racing through my body. Yet he's so antagonizing too; he's difficult, complicated, and confusing. One minute he rebuffs me, the next he sends me fourteen thousand dollar books, then tracks me like a stalker. And for all that, I have spent the night in his hotel suite, and I feel safe. Protected. He cares enough to come and rescue me from some mistakenly perceived danger. He's not a dark knight at all but a white knight in shining, dazzling armor ... a classic romantic hero. — E.L. James

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 — Krystal McLean

What?" he asked.
"I don't know. Just thinking about flowers. And impressing people. I mean, how strange is it that we bring plant sex organs to people we're attracted to? What's up with that? It's a weird sign of affection."
His dark eyes lit up, like he'd just discovered something surprising and delightful. "Is it any weirder than giving chocolate, which is supposed to be an aphrodisiac? Or what about wine? A 'romantic' drink that really just succeeds in lowering the other person's inhibitions."
"Hmmm, It's like people are trying to be both subtle and blatant at the same time. Like, they won't actually go up and say, 'Hey, I like you, lets get together.' Instead, they're like, 'Here, have some plant genitalia and aphrodisiacs. — Richelle Mead

It beats where my parents first made out. They went to the West Yellowstone dump. They sat in the dark and waited for the bears to come out."
Max laughed, smiling over at her. "And then what?"
"About the time the bars in town closed, the grizzlies would chase away the black bears. Everyone who was parked at the edge of the dump would turn on their headlights and watch the grizzlies dig in the garbage."
"You Montanans really are a romantic bunch. — B. J. Daniels

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. — J.M. Richards Tall Dark Streak Of Lightning

OMG, I think I've become a feminist. I mean, I've always been in favor of women voting and being paid the same as men for doing the same job. But then, the other day on the train, I didn't get up and give a woman my seat. I thought about it. But then I thought it might insult her, might imply that I considered her weaker than a senior citizen, maybe even inferior in some way. But that's not what prompted me to fire up my laptop. I was brushing my teeth this morning and thinking about romance. People do that when they get older, I suppose. Romance is one area where men and women are still different - unisex lavatories and fashions notwithstanding. And here's the difference: a romantic woman envisions a knight on a white horse; a romantic man envisions a dragon in a dark cave. Think about it next time you brush your teeth. — Ron Brackin

We live in a dark and romantic and quite tragic world. — Karl Lagerfeld

Now, I did know a certain young lady of the 'romantic' generation of not so long ago who, after being mysteriously in love for several years with a certain gentleman whom she could have married at any time without the least difficulty, suddenly broke off their relationship, inventing for herself all manner of insurmountable obstacles, and one stormy night plunged from a high, precipitous cliff into a fairly deep and fast-flowing river, where she perished from her own caprice solely through her attempt to imitate Shakespeare's Ophelia, for, had the precipice, which she had long before singled out and been compulsively drawn to, been less picturesque, and had there been only a prosaically flat bank in its stead, perhaps there would have been no suicide at all. — Fyodor Dostoyevsky

They say you never forget your first glimpse of Gehenna. Over the tall buildings the sky swirls with orange and red, true titian, a feature of the unique atmosphere. Of course that same air would kill human beings; hence they built the entire city inside a dome. Eternal sunset, that's why the place is so wild. You know the feeling you get, just before full dark? Sundown makes you feel like the world burgeons with possibility, and that's Gehenna for you.
Like any other romantic notion, it's based on bullshit, of course. Gehenna isn't the land of eternal sunset and infinite potential. The gas in the atmosphere just makes it impossible to see the sun. — Ann Aguirre

Your thoughts turned from a romantic comedy to a psychological suspense. A genre switch. What a joke. Wedged in-between all of the good memories were dark slivers: fights, text messages, dissonance. You remembered how lonely you'd been feeling, and the dark slivers became more pronounced. They pushed apart the good memories until they stood on their own. — Tarryn Fisher

I wanted to tell a romantic and dark side of Ottoman history that was also slightly political, saying to the previous generation of writers, 'Look, I'm interested in Ottoman things, and I'm not afraid of it, and I'm doing something creative.' — Orhan Pamuk

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. — A.O. Esther

I'm often asked where I get my ideas. For this story, the hero and the heroine have a rather unconventional start - they meet when she falls on him through a hole in the ceiling while he's standing before the toilet. Funny, but not very romantic. Not too long ago, I was at a writers' meeting. In the bathroom, far above me, there was a hole. It flapped open, revealing a dark, yawning space. As I sat there contemplating this hole, I wondered what would happen if a really, really gorgeous man fell through it. One didn't, darn it, but a story was born. — Jill Shalvis

You're a romantic at heart," he said, pinching a heap of fallen lettuce and nibbling on it. "No one would ever know it because of the mixed signals you give out." "What signals?" "Slippery When Wet mixed with Library, Next Exit. — Dannika Dark