Old Romance Quotes & Sayings

I don't know if I can shoot a man."
The old woman cackled. "Can't shoot 'em, but you can wallop 'em to death with a poker."
Elizabeth blanched. "That was before I knew they were men."
"Man, beast, don't matter. Something aims to kill you, your kin, your friends, you kill it first. You weren't carrying that poker to protect yourself against no wolf. — Jacqueline Rhoades

But guys like Mason McCarthy stayed glued to your brain long after they had left you behind. They charmed their way into your heart and pants with their smooth words and sinister good looks and then ditched you the second you were deemed old news.

Still, I wanted him. That was the scariest part - not his assumed womanizing, not that he could disrupt my life and tear my heart into tiny pieces, but that I would let him. — Amanda McGee

But for me, if we're talking about romance, cassettes wipe the floor with MP3s. This has nothing to do with superstition, or nostalgia. MP3s buzz straight to your brain. That's part of what I love about them. But the rhythm of the mix tape is the rhythm of romance, the analog hum of a physical connection between two sloppy human bodies. The cassette is full of tape hiss and room tone; it's full of wasted space, unnecessary noise. Compared to the go-go-go rhythm of an MP3, mix tapes are hopelessly inefficient. You go back to a cassette the way a detective sits and pours drinks for the elderly motel clerk who tells stories about the old days
you know you might be somewhat bored, but there might be a clue in there somewhere. And if there isn't, what the hell? It's not a bad time. You know you will waste time. You plan on it. — Rob Sheffield

He didn't move, didn't blink. He didn't seem like a man who heard no too often. Too bad. But he must have found something he liked, because he slowly undid his tie, then unbuttoned his shirt.

She would not drool.

He didn't have an ounce of fat on him. Austin had said Morgan was forty years old, but he didn't look it. Nor did he have the body of a twenty-year-old man. Callie didn't want that anyway. His body had aged beautifully and was clearly well cared for. He had some hair on his chest, but not much. The hair on his belly trailed down to beneath his dress pants and Callie did her best not to swallow her tongue.

She persevered.

Barely. — Carrie Ann Ryan

Maybe it was childish, this old urge to explore for exploring's sake. There was romance in the unknown, but once a place had been discovered and cataloged and mapped, it was diminished, just — Ransom Riggs

Dude! Get a fucking grip, it's just a song!
When had I turned into a 5-yr-old girl? At the very least, I needed to get my libido under control before the song finished, because I didn't think that my raging hard-on would be a good icebreaker. Well, figuratively speaking anyway, I thought smugly. — M.C. Lavocat

I sometimes think we should go back to the old days, when there was proper courtship, when people walked out together for weeks and weeks before anything happened. At least then you know something about each other, you have some solid ground to put your feet on. We're all so impatient now, we just want to get to the main action. — Tania Kindersley

Keegan rested his forearm on the wheel. "If the spell is fading, you could've grown old with this woman. She never had to know you were the Quartermaster on the Sea Dog when it sank in 1795."

"All true." Colton glanced over his shoulder toward the bow. "But every man she's ever known has lied to her. I didn't want to be another one. — Lisa Kessler

Seriously, this old woman had no idea how close she came to being squashed like a roach. -Sage Hannigan, Contingency — P.S. Martinez

I have to admit," I said when he finished a lengthy discussion on the types of drivers, "I've been golfing and it's about the most boring thing I've ever done. Old men drive around in golf carts pretending they're sporty and getting grouchy if there's any noise. It's like the nursing-home Olympics."
Nick's mouth dropped open. "It takes great athletic ability to know how to aim and drive the ball that far."
"I get more exercise shopping at the mall," I joked. "I don't come home and tell everyone I won at shopping." Although those red shoes I got on sale the other day felt like a win. — Cindi Madsen

And when whatever happened in that barn happened, it was a moment I'll never forget. Like a missing key slid into a dusty old lock. Click. My world opened. — Jennifer Walkup

Some lovers were fortunate enough to grow old together. They'd grown old apart. She did not think him any less handsome. She only wished that she'd been there when the first line on his face had appeared, so that she could have stroked and kissed and cherished it. — Sherry Thomas

Darlin', old don't mean dead. — Carolyn Brown

The slick concrete reflected the facades of the work weary - grey, cracked and old,
but more importantly, trodden upon. — Martin Hopkins

Besides," he said, clomping down the centuries-old stone steps, "she won't last that long. Once she sees all those sharp swords and dirks, and all that fighting and mayhem, she'll turn around and leave, realizing she really didn't want to stay her after all. — Terry Spear

Of All the Gin Joints is one part cinematic history, one part old Hollywood weirdness, and one part handy basic bar guide, with a dash of romance and more than a few wry twists. Bailey and Hemingway prove themselves very entertaining cultural mixologists. — Sam Lipsyte

We watched each other evolve into parents, with all the fear, rage and confusion evolution can involve. Our eight-year-old is the incarnation of our union; we are forever fused by her blood. My old take on romance seemed vaguely ludicrous, as affected as a pair of spats. I no longer saw the point in 'getting back to normal', that pantomime of pretending nothing had changed; I wanted to evolve from sexual posturing into a deeper consciousness, that of love. — Antonella Gambotto-Burke

Shane was sitting on the curb next to the old, cracked gas pumps, eating a candy bar. Claire plopped down next to him. "Half?" she asked.
"And now I know you're my girlfriend, since you're not afraid to demand community property," he said, and pulled off the uneaten half to hand it over. — Rachel Caine

You can't actually have a romance between friends. That sort of defeats the definition of the word "romance." The word you're looking for is "love." It's a love between friends, just as there's also love between lovers, or possible lovers, or even ex-lovers. Same holds true for "bromance" - it's just a clever word used to avoid the word love, for straight boys who don't want that old-fashioned taint of gayness. Dudes, you love each other. Deal with it. — David Levithan

Do you play cards?"
Her lips tingled from the light kiss, "In theory. Why? Do you have a hankering for Old Maid?" She teased, flashing him a smile.
He placed his glass down and reached for an intricate metal crafted box. "Not even close. How about a little strip poker? — Beth Mikell

The sins of the Midwest: flatness, emptiness, a necessary acceptance of the familiar. Where is the romance in being buried alive? In growing old? — Stewart O'Nan

Distance,
the dissonance insurmountable,
would be not the end,
but a magnet.
When fingertips kiss,
they imprint and cement something,
that cannot be disintegrated.
Time becomes a phantom,
the wind becomes an anchor,
and old dreams- blankets of warmth.
Lull with me, Lady,
there is no greater escape.
Love and war, even when buttered on toast,
still makes for the breakfast of champions. — Dave Matthes

Ivanov: No, my clever young thing, it's not a question of romance. I say as before God that I will endure everything - depression and mental illness and ruin and the loss of my wife and premature old age and loneliness - but I cannot tolerate, cannot endure being ridiculous in my own eyes. I'm dying of shame at the thought that I, a healthy, strong man, have turned into some sort of Hamlet or Manfred, some sort of 'superfluous man' ... devil knows precisely what!
There are pitiful people who are flattered by being called Hamlet or superfluous men, but for me it's a disgrace! It stirs up my pride, I'm overcome by shame and I suffer ... — Anton Chekhov

Shouldering the duffel bag with the Marine Corps bulldog, Old Man knocked Jan's photo off the bed table. He turned to stone staring down at the photo. His face then splintered into hurt. Tears seeped into his eyes. He grappled for the nearest bedpost and slumped forward on extended arms. His shoulders jerked and head sagged a little while his heart broke. Old Man cried the mute cry of men of his generation. — Ed Lynskey

What audiences end up with word-wise is a hackneyed, completely derivative copy of old Hollywood romances, a movie that reeks of phoniness and lacks even minimal originality. — Kenneth Turan

Of course there always will be darkness but I realize now something inhabits it. Historical or not. Sometimes it seems like a cat, the panther with its moon mad gait or a tiger with stripes of ash and eyes as wild as winter oceans. Sometimes it's the curve of a wrist or what's left of romance, still hiding in the drawer of some long lost nightstand or carefully drawn in the margins of an old discarded calendar. Sometimes it's even just a vapor trail speeding west, prophetic, over clouds aglow with dangerous light. Of course these are only images, my images, and in the end they're born out of something much more akin to a Voice, which though invisible to the eye and frequently unheard by even the ear still continues, day and night, year after year, to sweep through us all. — Mark Z. Danielewski

As I watch Nicholas make his way back to his truck, I know one thing: this boy is going to make my life very interesting. I feel as if a fragment of the old me broke away tonight and disappeared, and I'm finally, truly beginning my new life. — Marie Landry

For Nature, if she once endows man or woman with romance, gives them so rich a store of it as shall last them, life through, unto the end. In sickness or health, in poverty or riches, through middle age and old age, through loss of hair and loss of teeth, under wrinkled face and gouty limbs, under crow's-feet and double chins, under all the least romantic and most sordid malaisances of life, romance endures to the end. Its price is altogether above rubies; it can never be taken away from those that have it, and those that have it not, can never acquire it for money, nor by the most utter toil - no, nor ever arrive at the very faintest comprehension of it. — John Meade Falkner

...I found that much of the romance had left the trenches. The old days, from the beginning to July, 1915, were all so delightfully precarious and primitive. Amateurish trenches and rough and ready life, which to my mind gave this war what it sadly needs - a touch of romance. — Bruce Bairnsfather

I feel even old people can do a nice love story, but here we don't make that kind of films. In the West, such films are being made and they make a nice romance, which is more like compassion. — Om Puri

I thought he should know the truth.
"Some say that I'm a ... well a ..." I hated to say what others teased me mercilessly about... "A... slow learner."
He shrugged as if to indicate that it didn't mean anything to him, but seemed anxious about what to say to console me. Finally, he reached out and touched my hand. "Yeah, but they don't have life mates whose destines are written in the stars." I wanted to groan out loud. I was a slow learner and was to be mated with a vampiric human whose old flame wanted me dead. How was this a good thing? — Terry Spear

Now, it's undeniably true that male writers (including yours truly) are generally and commercially allowed to write about "girl stuff" without being penalized for doing so. In part this is the same old shit it's always been ... I've said before that men who write mostly about men win prizes for revealing the human condition, while women who write about both men and women are filed away as writing "womens' issues." Likewise, in fantasy, the imprimatur of a dude somehow makes stuff like romance, relationship drama, introspection, and adorable animal companions magically not girly after all.
In a sense, we male fantasists are allowed to be like money launderers for girl cooties."
[Game of Thrones and Invisible Cootie Vectors (blog post, March 30, 2014)] — Scott Lynch

My parents say you're no good, Elijah." I exhaled and killed the cigarette in the grass.
Laughing, Eli's eyes went to my lips and his hands touched my bare midriff. "Really? And what do you say?"
He had brought his lips so close to mine that it became hard to think about my next words when all I wanted to do was crush my mouth to his. I wanted him to completely consume me. "I think you're broken," I finally got out, and Eli arched a brow. "But I think I'm broken too. I just don't know it yet. — Nadege Richards

Suddenly his expression turned to alarm. He sprinted toward us. For a moment I had an absurd vision of myself on the cover of one of Gran's old romance novels, where the damsel wilts into the
arms of one half-dressed beefy guy while another stands by,casting her longing looks. Oh, the horrible choices a girl must make! I wished I'd had a moment to clean up. I was still covered in dried river muck, twine, and grass, like I'd been tarred and feathered. Then Anubis pushed past me and gripped Walt's shoulders.
Well ... that was unexpected. — Rick Riordan

Isn't it amazing the effect on one's perspective that can be made by a glass of wine and a moment's peace?" he asked.
I rather thought that it was amazing the effect one glass of wine and one grumpy old dude could have on my libido, but no way was I telling him that. — Jen Crane

Papa wants you to marry some decrepit old wigsby?" She gave him a charmingly rueful smile, all tousled golden curls like some angel who had rolled off a cloud in her sleep, he thought, and had fallen to earth with a thud. "Something like that," she said in vague amusement. "I see. Well, surely we can find a solution." He snapped his fingers and gave her a grin. "Shall I ruin you? That should solve your problem. The old wigsby won't want you if you're used goods, and I assure you, I'd be happy to oblige. — Gaelen Foley

Bryan pulled back and laid his forehead against Zahara's, his breath ragged and intense enough to set her on fire. "You'e making this difficult."
"Making what difficult?" Zahara huffed.
"Leaving you." Bryan closed his eyes and kissed her again. — Annabell Cadiz

Young love sucked. Old love wasn't much easier, but at least you had some scar tissue built up around your heart to make it hurt a little less. — Tere Michaels

Amelia furrowed her brow and said adamantly. "I'm not staying here tonight. No way!"
Rick cleared his throat and was about to tell her there was no other hotel in town. They had no choice but to stay here. After a moment, he thought better of it. He made it his goal to never argue with an irate woman. If he had anything to say, it was better to wait until she was calm. He knew that much about women.
When Rick was old enough to date, his father had warned him: "Any man who is not afraid of a woman's wrath is a fool. Wait until she's calmed down before talking with her."
Rick gave a curt nod. He thought it best to do as his father had warned. — Linda Weaver Clarke

Kiana loved birds," Breena told him late one dusky evening. "When she was just a few summers old, she would run beneath them as they flew, her chubby arms stretched out as if tmo take flight alongside them." She sniffed and wrapped her arms around her stomach. "A few weeks before the attack, she told me that she was still going to fly one day. 'I look at the birds, and I see freedom,' she said. 'To soar above the hurt of the world, to be too high for the wars of men to touch you: that is what it means to fly. — Elizabeth Wilson

I'm again a twelve-year old dreamer, a girl fascinated by an ancient piano and with Rona Lubliner's fingers. — Victoria Avilan

She swung her legs around his waist and crossed her ankles behind his back. "I like the way your mind works," she panted before losing herself in the sensation of his hardness rubbing against her core. Lief took the few steps across the room to the bed in record time and flung her down on the covers. He leaned back to tear his clothes off. "My mind hardly works at all when you are near." She chuckled leaning back on her elbows, enjoying the view of naked flesh being revealed. She rose up on her knees and traced the ridges on his chest and abdomen. As her fingers trailed down toward his proud shaft, he captured her wrists.

"Be careful." He smiled down at her. "I'm loaded and might go off any minute."

She laughed. "You've been watching too many old Western movies with Harold. — Asa Maria Bradley

A full harvest moon lit the sky. In its glow, there appeared an old woman dressed in black lace. A shimmering veil covered her head. With her back to the old oak tree, she keened wildly. Her cry was carried by the autumn winds and lost on the wings of the nightingales. — AnneMarie Dapp

What was the point of starting a new life if she did everything the same as her old one? — Donna Cummings

The old woman's voice echoed through his mind, like she'd been lurking in the shadows as the centuries passed, just waiting.
'A woman with violet eyes will signal the beginning and ending of your life. — Lisa Kessler

Careful old-timer, your age is showing."
"Hey, I'm only thirty-two. I'm in my prime, woman!"
She harrumphed. "Well, I'm a mere twenty-five and you're way too old for me."
Jay's eyes smoldered as he whispered, "My experience is your gain. — Anne Rainey

Raven, holding Joshua's chin, asks him how old he is.
Joshua, folding in the pinky and the thumb on his left hand, while leaning on Raven's legs, raises three middle fingers into the air.
"That's what I thought. You're three. — Giorge Leedy

You wanna go see my old bedroom?"
"Is that a pickup line?"
"Come on inside and you'll find out."
How was a girl supposed to resist an offer like that? — Jamie Farrell

Hearing her laugh nearly made him cum in his pants like a teenager, not a one hundred and twenty-five year old werewolf. — Amanda Clark

We didn't, after all, sing "Another One Bites The Dust" as the coffin was carried out; Hazel and the vicar had settled instead on the more traditional "How Great Thou Art". And Aunty Rose's old adversary the mayor was pressed into service as a coffin bearer to replace Matt.
Rose Adele Thornton, born in Bath, England, died in Waimanu, New Zealand, a mere fifty-three years later. Adept and compassionate nurse, fervent advocate of animal welfare, champion of correct diction and tireless crusader against the misuse of apostrophes. Experimental chef, peerless aunt, brave sufferer and true friend. She had the grace and courage to thoroughly enjoy a life which denied her everything she most wanted. The bravest woman I ever knew. — Danielle Hawkins

Once ye made up yer mind to do somethin', 'tis better t'stumble o'er the small hillock of jump-ahead than t'bash yer head on the jagged rocks of did-nothing.
Old Woman Nora of Loch Lomand to her three wee granddaughtersone cold evening — Karen Hawkins

I love you. I've loved you since I was sixteen years old, and I'll love you until the day I die. And I just ... needed you to know that. — Cindi Madsen

A hedgehog? And just how does a hedgehog make love?" he demanded.
No, I thought. I won't. I will not. But I did. "Very carefully," I replied, giggling helplessly. So now we know just how old that one is, I thought. — Diana Gabaldon

Crossing the small wooden bridge, just past the rubble, Gabe ducked off to the left and swooped underneath into hiding. Once sure he was secure, and could not be seen by those that passed overhead, Gabe collapsed on to the dirt and grass. Turning on his side, his body convulsed, and relieved itself of any food that had been in his belly. Rachel was right. He was a liability. Anyone who tried to protect him ended up paying a high price. He didn't know if his old friends were dead, but he was certain whatever fate had found them must have been bad. — Wendy Owens

... I wanted to show that the mother was the heroine as soon as possible. I'm tired of love-sick girls and runaway wives. We'll prove that there's romance in old women also. — Louisa May Alcott

Here I am, ninety years old and ready for the cooling board, using a brand new Macintosh computer, and there you sit, twenty-two and gorgeous, fresh as a new peach, yet scrawling on a yellow legal pad like an old maid in a Victorian romance. — Stephen King

Poor old Rhett," Sawyer mumbled.
"What about Rhett?"
"I just feel sorry for him if he does come to Burnt Boot. He won't have a pretty little redhead to watch his back. — Carolyn Brown

Her six-year-old brain had lost her father at sweet and was still stuck trying to decipher lemonade.
"But lemon is pretty, Dad. It's yellow. Like sun."
Her father nodded, his lips curved up at the corners.
"Sun is pretty and it has a smiley face. Sun is not bad."
"No, I guess it's not." Her father chuckled.
"I love sun."
"Of course you do, sweetie-pie."
"So lemon is nice, too."
"I believe so, but some people don't like the taste. It's too sour, they say."
She looked back at her father and said with a tone that suggested what other people thought about lemon was crazy. "Then add sugar. No need to blame the lemon. — E. Mellyberry

Little Bit.
The loathsome nickname proved just how hopeless her situation had been, how pathetic, but neither the name nor the glaring age difference had deterred her heart, because with one playful wink and one slow smile, young Arabella had been a goner.
Sadly, twenty-two-year-old Ella wasn't that much better. — Rachel Harris

I hate not talking to you, I hate not bickering like we're an old married couple and I hate not spending every day right next to you.
Chase — Molly McAdams

In Paris, the dance was everything. The dance of romance was what a man could remember in his old age. Didn't all young Americans come to Europe in search of that kind of romance? — Peggy Kopman-Owens

I will cover you with love when next I see you, with caresses, with ecstasy. I want to gorge you with all the joys of the flesh, so that you faint and die. I want you to be amazed by me, and to confess to yourself that you had never even dreamed of such transports ... When you are old, I want you to recall those few hours, I want your dry bones to quiver with joy when you think of them. — Gustave Flaubert

We would take something old and tired and common - coffee - and weave a sense of romance and community around it. We would rediscover the mystique and charm that had swirled around coffee throughout the centuries. — Howard Schultz

Little black and tan older dog?" Verdie asked. "Do you know who he belongs to?"
"Belonged to, not belongs. Old man Rawling died about two weeks ago. His family intended to have Pete and Joe put to sleep the day after the funeral, but they both vanished." ...
"Dickie bought that crazy bird for his wife, Mary, about six years ago. He'd promised her that someday he'd take her to a tropical island and then she got cancer and he couldn't take her so he bought her the bird. — Carolyn Brown

I came home to court you, Wind. That doesn't change, whether I'm a duke, a captain, or a plain old seaman. I want you. — Jade Lee

Christianity - An old metaphysical romance, filled with marvels, contradictions, and absurdity, born in the ardent imagination of Orientals, has spread into our Europe. Enthusiasts have purveyed it, careerists have pretended to accept it, imbeciles have believed it. — Frederick The Great

Never mind the ridicule, never mind the defeat: up again, old heart!-it seems to say,-there is victory yet for all justice; and the true romance which the world exists to realize, will be the transformation of genius into practical power. — Ralph Waldo Emerson

I think we choose who we are and what we do about life events. Paige, isn't that what you've been doing since Kevin threw you out of the company? You've been stepping out in faith, trusting God to help you make your own life. Working at life is what matters most. What we do for a living is a component. Where we come from, who's in our lives, our families, our pets, and the people we decide we want to grow old with are all about life, but we make our own choices and build from the materials we've been given. — Lynette Endicott

What they want seems so simple-time together, a lifetime together, or what is left of a lifetime together-and yet that small goal, he knows, is fraught with endless complications: a maze of responsibilities and commitments, deceptions and betrayals. Why, why, why he asks himself silently for the hundredth time, couldn't they have remained somehow connected-in touch , with all that phrase implies-until they were old enough to find each other again? — Anita Shreve

Bessie, the old gray mule, had two speeds: slow and stop. A stick of dynamite could not have put any more giddy-up in her pace ... — Carolyn Brown

Camhanach, it is a bargain as old as the world itself." He chuckled.
"Women want protection...men want a willing lass to warm their bed. — Shelly Thacker

When I am an old man and I can remember nothing else, I will remember this moment. The first time my eyes beheld an angel in the flesh. "I will remember your body and your eyes, your beautiful face and breasts, your curves and this." He traced his hand around her navel before dragging it lightly to the top of her lower curls. "I will remember your scent and your touch and how it felt to love you. But most of all, I will remember how it felt to gaze at true beauty, both inside and out. For you are fair, my beloved, in soul and in body, generous of spirit and generous of heart. And I will never see anything this side of heaven more beautiful tham you — Sylvain Reynard

Marvelously clear-fretted in the unsmoked air, the Abbey rose, silver-grey. It stood detached by the serenity of age from the ephemeral growths around it. It was solid on a foundation of centuries, destined, perhaps, for centuries yet to preserve within it the monuments to those whose work was now all destroyed. I did not loiter there. In years to come I expect some will go o look at the old Abbey with romantic melancholy. But romance of that kind is an alloy of tragedy with retrospect. I was too close. — John Wyndham

The third kind of loneliness is avoiding unnecesssary activities. When we're lonely in a "hot" way, we look for something to save us; we look for a way out. We get this queasy feeling that we call loneliness, and our minds just go wild trying to come up with companions to save us from despair. That's called unnecessary activity. It's a way of keeping ourselves busy so we don't have to feel any pain. It could take the form of obsessively daydreaming of true romance, or turning a tidbit of gossip into the six o'clock news, or even going off by ourselves into the wilderness. The point is that in all these activities, we are seeking companionship in our usual, habitual way, using our same old repetitive ways of distancing ourselves from the demon loneliness. Could we just settle down and have some — Pema Chodron

I had always heard rumors of her, Nanook thought, she who can control the wind, the water, the earth, and fire ... she who can talk to time. But those were old myths of a woman who lived many thousands of years ago, the first daughter of the Earth. There is a prophecy that she will return again, during the end times -- every religion has someone like that, someone to wait for and put your faith in, but my culture had mostly covered up her existence. We had a god of the sea, a god of the land, a god of the air, a god of fire, but no one who could control all of the elements. We spoke, only in whispers, of the ancient bloodline -- the descendents of the Great Mother. Too many superstitious minds, too many men concerned only with their own power and position, had heard these whispers in the past and taken gruesome steps to erase the descendents. The lineage was said to be broken, the blood of the Great Mother spilled for the last time. — Sarah Warden

Killy arched an eyebrow in disbelief. Don't be thinkin' you can deceive this old man. I've been makin' a fool of myself over women since before you were born. — Pamela Clare

We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
"Ulysses" by Alfred, Lord Tennyson — Alfred Tennyson

He created waterfalls for her out of the morning dew, and from the colored pebbles of a meadow stream he made a necklace more beautiful than emeralds, sadder than pearls. She caught him in her net of silken hair, she carried him down, down, into deep and silent waters, past obliteration. He showed her frozen stars and molten sun; she gave him long, entwined shadows and the sound of black velvet. He reached out to her and touched moss, grass, ancient trees, iridescent rocks; her fingertips, striving upwards, brushed old planets and silver moonlight, the flash of comets and the cry of dissolving suns. — Robert Sheckley

Perhaps, after all, romance did not come into one's life with pomp and blare, like a gay knight riding down; perhaps it crept to one's side like an old friend through quiet ways; perhaps it revealed itself in seeming prose, until some sudden shaft of illumination flung athwart its pages betrayed the rhythm and the music, perhaps ... perhaps ... love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship, as a golden-hearted rose slipping from its green sheath. — L.M. Montgomery

I was 17 years old when I was killed by a vampire-Ruby Kennedy from My Handsome Vampire. — Vianka Van Bokkem

Nellie grinned. "I always wanted to go to Venice. It's supposed to be the romance capital of the world."
"Sweet," put in Dan. "Too bad your date is an Egyptian Mau on a hunger strike."
The au pair sighed. "Better than an eleven-year-old with a big mouth. — Gordon Korman

I like old-fashioned romance, when the two people sleep in separate beds but still hold hands all night. Their hands rest on a little table between the beds. — Kaley Cuoco

She wears those old fashioned pj's like body armour. Going to bed these days is like wresting with Kevlar. — Poppet

In 1976, I read a book by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss and knew immediately that I, too, could write a historical romance. It took me a year to complete the manuscript. I was a forty-year-old Scarborough housewife who knew no one in publishing. — Virginia Henley

I am essence of Rose Solitude
my cheeks are laced with cognac
my hips sealed with five satin nails
I carry dreams and romance of new fools and old
flames
between the musk of fat
and the side pocket of my mink tongue. — Jayne Cortez

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. — Emmy Laybourne

I loved old black and white movies, especially the Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers musicals. I loved everything about them - the songs, the music, the romance and the spectacle. They were real class and I knew that I wanted to be in that world. — Sharon Stone

After driving 30-minutes East of Seattle, I expect to see a great bowling alley. But, as we pull into the parking lot, all I see are pot holes, a horse and Amish buggy, and no cars to speak of- broken down or otherwise. Even the building is in shambles, needs painted and looks a bit haunted. The old road sign reading- Flicker Lanes- is half-burnt out. Seeing the building's interior lights on, I'm reassured that the place is open- but then again, maybe they've been left on by mistake. "There's LOTS of NICE bowling alleys in SEATTLE," I said. "Why did we come ALL THIS WAY to go BOWLING?"
"I take it that you've never BEEN here before."
"I don't think ANYONE HAS. I don't even KNOW what PLANET we're on."
"I don't know what PLANET you're on either... but the rest of us are on your ANUS."
I half-smile, marveling at his wittiness. — Giorge Leedy

I know there is a difference in our ages, but who cares? My heart has no idea how old your heart is. — Evelyn R. Baldwin

Don't be shy, dear. I'm too old for you to be embarrassed by me. — Olga Goa

Do you have any idea how rare a twenty-three-year-old virgin is where I come from? — Maeve Greyson

What was she doing here? Private detectives were for insecure housewives, parents of troubled teens, bent old ladies who'd forgotten where they parked. She was none of the above. She was a sane, stable, capable adult. Yet here she was.
Desperate times, and all that. — Laura Oliva

It's a pretty good little old place after all, and I have little time for the gloomers who are eternally shrieking that this old mud ball is rolling to the bow wows. I am satisfied to take my chances with this one, thank you, and not worry about the next ...
You must carry along with you a lively imagination and plenty of romance in your soul. Some of the most wonderful things in the world will seem dull and drab unless you view them in the proper light. — LeRoy Robert Ripley

My thousands-of-years-old virgin... — Lisa Kessler

It wasn't a romance; they were too young for that. Theo did not know of a single thirteen-year-old boy in his class who admitted to having a girlfriend. — John Grisham

BELINDA:Your children are a pain in the neck...
MASSIMO: They are mine when they misbehave -
BELINDA: Which is always.
MASSIMO: And yours when they behave like angels.
BELINDA: I'll be old by the time that happens. — Billy London

My mom was sitting at the kitchen table. She'd set her coffee down, making a noise that made me look her way. I'd begun to notice her less and less often, like her colors were fading and blending in with walls. She was shrinking. Or maybe her sphere of influence in the family was shrinking. My dad glanced at her, too, and then wrote something on a napkin.
He slid it across the counter to me - Don't worry. Come home in one piece. Have fun and act like a sixteen-year-old for a change. — Laura Anderson Kurk

In town, there's a tiny beach that's never busy, not even in the summer.

I used to like walking there, looking for stuff.

Like old fireworks.

Or kelp.

A hat knocked off someone's head by the wind.

You basically never find what you were expecting to.

And maybe you weren't expecting to find anything right from the start... — Inio Asano

Lady of the Mere, Sole-sitting by the shores of old romance. — William Wordsworth

Her eyes narrowed, but she wasn't yelling.
I think she liked me ... kind of. The way a mother would like an annoying spastic two year old who belonged to someone else. — Robyn Peterman