Romance Is Dead Quotes & Sayings

If she has her way ...

Willa Davis is wrangling puppies when Keane Winters stalks into her pet shop with frustration in his chocolate-brown eyes and a pink bedazzled cat carrier in his hand. He needs a kitty sitter, stat. But the last thing Willa needs is to rescue a guy who doesn't even remember her ...

He'll get nothing but coal in his stocking.

Saddled with his great-aunt's Feline from Hell, Keane is desperate to leave her in someone else's capable hands. But in spite of the fact that he's sure he's never seen the drop-dead-gorgeous pet shop owner before, she seems to be mad at him ...

Unless he tempers "naughty" with a special kind of nice ...

Willa can't deny that Keane's changed since high school: he's less arrogant, for one thing - but can she trust him not to break her heart again? It's time to throw a coin in the fountain, make a Christmas wish - and let the mistletoe do its work ... — Jill Shalvis

Many luckless people imagine that romance is dead: some, overcivilised, fondly suppose that there never was romance: a poet tells us that romance is unrecognised though really present: but scientists can meet him daily, walking at large and undisguised in the world. — Archibald Hill

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. — Edgar Rice Burroughs

I felt Alec's glare so I turned to look at him and smiled when I found him all but drilling holes into me with his eyes.
"If looks could kill, I'd be dead," I joked.
"My pretty eyes won't harm you, don't worry."
Conceited much?
"Did you just call your own eyes pretty?"
Alec devilishly grinned then and it made me slightly uneasy.
"No, you said I have pretty eyes."
Was he high?
"Are you in your right mind? I have never said you have pretty eyes-"
"Yes, you have. Right before you fell asleep. You said I have pretty eyes."
I felt my face heat up.
It was the shite he gave me to knock me out that said that, not me!
"Did I say anythin' else?" I murmured.
Alec leaned in close to me and whispered is a slow, seductive voice, "You said you like my voice, my abs, and my ass."
I audibly gasped. "I did not!"
Alec snickered. "You did."
I was mortified, absolutely mortified!
"I hate you right now. — L.A. Casey

My ghost is the only soul who ever comes to cry on my grave ... Only the skies cried sincerely on my funeral. — Simona Panova

It is from the bystanders (who are in the vast majority) that we receive the propaganda that life is not worth living, that life is drudgery, that the ambitions of youth must he laid aside for a life which is but a painful wait for death. These are the ones who squeeze what excitement they can from life out of the imaginations and experiences of others through books and movies. These are the insignificant and forgotten men who preach conformity because it is all they know. These are the men who dream at night of what could have been, but who wake at dawn to take their places at the now-familiar rut and to merely exist through another day. For them, the romance of life is long dead and they are forced to go through the years on a treadmill, cursing their existence, yet afraid to die because of the unknown which faces them after death. They lacked the only true courage: the kind which enables men to face the unknown regardless of the consequences. — Hunter S. Thompson

Oh my God, not only is he older than the Grand Canyon, but he's like the pope and the Fae King and the president of the United States all rolled up into one. To some ancient cultures he had been a god.
He was going to hurt her so bad before he killed her so dead, and all she could think of was how hot his kiss had been in the dream and how delicate the touch of his finger was as it traced down her body. — Thea Harrison

After a moment, Wrath turned to John. "This is Lassiter, the fallen angel. One of the last times he was here on earth, there was a plague in central Europe-"
"Okay, that was so not my fault-"
"-which wiped out two-thirds of the human population."
"I'd like to remind you that you don't like humans."
"They smell bad when they're dead."
"All you mortal types do. — J.R. Ward

Creation is more than an accident of dead matter. It's a romance. It has purpose. It sings of the Living God. It bears his signature. — Charles J. Chaput

I know for sure that love saves me. And that it is here to save us all. I know it's a sense, it's more close to us than air, more loud to us than hearing. I know it. I know that we can sit in it. Yes, love honey, and you know by that, I don't mean mush, or any, I don't mean romance, or sentimentality. I mean something is so, it can raise the dead. It can make a mountain move. I know it. I haven't done it, but i know it. As surely as I'm sitting here. — Maya Angelou

Now...get naked." Quinn grinned and pulled Mhisery to her feet.

Mhisery rolled her eyes as he pulled her to her feet.

"Who says romance is dead. Not even married yet, and all I get is, get naked. — Alex Morgan

You have had Ravenscar murdered, and hidden his body in my cellar!" uttered her ladyship, sinking into a chair. "We shall all be ruined! I knew it!"
"My dear ma'am it is no such thing!" Deborah said amused. "He is not dead I assure you! — Georgette Heyer

My name is Nathan, just twenty-three and given to the curation of stories. I listen, retain, then polish and release them over the fire at night, when the others hush and lean forward in their desire to hear of the past. They crave romance, particularly when autumn sets in and cold nights await them, and so I speak of Alice, and Bethany, and Sarah, and Val, and other dead women who all once had lustrous hair and never a bad word on their plump lips. I can remember this is not how they were; I knew them, I knew them! Only six years have passed and yet I mythologize them as if it is six thousand. I am not culpable. Language is changing, like the earth, like the sea. We live in lonely, fateful flux, outnumbered and outgrown. — Aliya Whiteley

Nikolas." The man's voice was deep, rough, and familiar. Nikolas's flare of aggression subsided as he realized the approaching figure was Rhys. "When you weren't here to greet us, we got worried."
"I ran into a pack of Hounds," Nikolas replied tersely.
Rhys hesitated. "Is everything ok?
"They're dead. I'm not. Situation handled. — Thea Harrison

If you are reading this, I'm dead. Don't celebrate too much. Jesus is watching. — Katie Graykowski

She looks me dead in the face and says, "The safe word is going to be 'immigration,' because you know I'll stop it. — Kayti McGee

I spent most of my youth hauling sides of beef and pork to my father's shop. Carrying you is far more enjoyable."
"How sweet," Annabelle mumbled sickly, her eyes closed. "Every woman dreams of being told that she's preferable to a dead cow. — Lisa Kleypas

The kind of bs is dead. Long live the queen. — Julie Kagawa

A lover exists only in fragments, a dozen or so if the romance is new, a thousand if we're married to him, and out of those fragments our heart constructs an entire person. What we each create, since whatever is missing is filled by our imagination, is the person we wish him to be. The less we know him, of course, the more we love him. And that's why we always remember that first rapturous night when he was a stranger, and why this rapture returns only when he's dead. — Andrew Sean Greer

You trying to sweep me off my feet?" Kelly asked, a little breathless.
Nick grinned. "No. But I am going to take you up on that sloppy blowjob you offered."
Kelly cackled as Nick dragged him inside. "Who says romance is dead? — Abigail Roux

Romance is dead - it was acquired in a hostile takeover by Hallmark and Disney, homogenized, and sold off piece by piece. — Yeardley Smith

He left for his day at the library. Today is research day. When he got there, he went directly to the microfiche machine and began looking through the newspaper obituaries for married men who died between 1980 and 1983. Their widows would be due for a little romance by now. He stayed there for hours, searching for her. His meticulous search netted seven names that merited further investigation. If some husband died and it made the first five pages of the paper, well, that meant a definite bonus because the dead man was powerful and with power came money. Their widows made excellent prospects for his future plans. — Jean Holloway

I don't know what they are. They aren't completely human, so I don't know what to call them." I pulled one of the bags over the man's head, then rolled it down to his waist. My fingers brushed Clare's; the feel of her skin sent a warm tingle firing up my arms. I met her gaze, and without thinking too much about it, I slid my right hand over hers. God, I had missed her.
"Owen, there is a dead body between us," she said, her gaze never straying from mine.
"Best be thankful for that, flower." I pushed down everything I wanted to say. There wasn't time, and her bloody kitchen definitely wasn't the place. — Elizabeth Morgan

He is dead, right?"
"Graveyard dead," Bran admitted without a hint of remorse.
"Oh, forgive us," Rick murmured, crossing himself.
"Forgiveness is between him and God," Bran insisted. "It was my job to arrange the meeting."
"Man on Fire," Maddy blurted. — Julie Ann Walker

You see death is a tool to degrade and destroy people, I see it as a life lesson that I use to empower myself and I remind myself that the dead are still alive. However, only the ones who are good, not evil pieces of shit like you will enjoy peace of mind — Angel Ramon Medina

People handle things differently, and everybody grieves differently, okay? No, I never considered taking my life, but think about it. What did I do? I did the very same thing you almost did. Maybe not literally but I made the decision to stop living. I went through the motions of waking and working and continuing with my life, but I wasn't living. I didn't even realize it until you came along. This is living." He kissed her softly because he'd just had a huge revelation. "What I was doing before you ... Baby, I may as well have been dead. My life now with you compared to what it was then ... I was dead. — Elizabeth Reyes

Payne sought clarification. "Vertical or horizontal?"
"Horizontal, of course."
"Sorry but I can't help you."
"Will you pipe down for a minute? Naturally she was dead since I work at a cemetery. Her face struck a chord though. So, I rummaged around in the old Rory memory bank, and Emily is what rings a bell. Didn't we go to school with an Emily? Tenth or eleventh grade, if I recall it correctly. — Ed Lynskey

Cullan was not getting enough sleep without Alynna beside him, and as much as he did not want to admit it, he knew that he is missing her so much his heart ache. He never saw her smile anymore, and it was killing him. Alynna lost the sparkle in her eyes, and had it replaced with sadness.

Alynna's face always had the look of mourning, and he wasn't even dead yet. — Nicholaa Spencer

A good man is a whole lot more satisfying than a thermal blanket and a vibrator."
"Grams! I can't believe you just said that!"
Her grandmother replied with a win. "I may be old, sweetheart, but I'm not dead yet. — Victoria Vane

Miss Carson, you need to step outside and slap me again. The side you hit is mostly dead. You need to hit the other side of my face so I can feel it like I should. — Lorraine Heath

My Morris, bless his heavy-hung manhood, was a muscular man too."
Bloody hell, is she talking about her dead husband's manly parts? His tadger? — Vonnie Davis

I've got a sleeping bag in the car." "You're getting me to spend the night on the beach with you." "I told you. I'm very romantic." Standing, Fletch brushed the sand off his skin. "And I told you romance is dead." "That's just wishful thinking," Fletch said. "I'll get the sleeping bag. — Anonymous

If I've got a Dad, and his name is Wormwood Rot, and he's in some heavy metal rock band called Grave Dirt ... then I'm definitely meeting him!
She stares at me awkwardly, and I'm about to ask again - maybe even insist - when she says, Honey, why do you think he's on the news? Wormwood, I mean ... your father? Becca, he's ... dead. — Rusty Fischer

Is there anything sweeter than the touch of another as she pulls a dead bug from your fur? — Katherine Applegate

Life is but a dream for the dead. — Gerard Way

We were the lucky ones, the notthese, we were the ones who had survived the aerial bombing and fire-clusters, the final flash. Regrettable, unavoidable, a war to end all wars, a war for democracy, a war for freedom, peaceful war. Sometimes war is necessary. Sometimes war is right.
But to the broken and the dead, to the wounded and the maimed, to the exploded and the shrapnelshattered, to minds gone dark, to eyes that have seen agony no tears can wash away, it hardly matters that the dead language of war repeats itself through time. The bodies that can say nothing have the last word.
What is it - the last word? No.
No more war. — Jeanette Winterson

I am ewe to your ram. How can I call myself a man anymore?"
"The penis is a dead giveaway. — Jill Knowles

A love which depends solely on romance, on the combustion of two attracting chemistries, tends to fizzle out. The famous lovers usually end up dead. A long-term marriage has to move beyond chemistry to compatibility, to friendship, to companionship. It is certainly not that passion disappears, but that it is conjoined with other ways of love. — Madeleine L'Engle

I am plenty romantic. Just this morning while he slept, I had left Carter a box of his favorite candy next to his pillow - Globs: piles of white chocolate covered, crushed potato chips and pretzels drizzled with caramel. I figured it would soften him up to the note I placed next to the box telling him if he left the toilet seat up one more time and my ass got an involuntary bath at six in the morning, I would put super glue on the head of his penis while he slept. I had even signed the note with a couple of Xs and Os. Who says romance is dead? — Tara Sivec

Some say that the age of chivalry is past, that the spirit of romance is dead. The age of chivalry is never past, so long as there is a wrong left unredressed on earth. — Charles Kingsley

Money is just dirty paper with dead presidents' pictures on it. — Carolyn Brown

Sky-Blue
The azure blue, the heavenly hue,
The first created realm of blue;
And over its radiance divine
My soul does pour its love sublime.

My heart that once with joy did glow
Is plunged in sorrow and in woe,
But yet it thrills and loves anew
To view again the sapphire blue.

I love to gaze on lovely eyes
That swim in azure from the skies;
The heavens lend this color fair,
Arid leave a dream of gladness there.

Enamored of the limpid sky,
My thoughts take wing to regions high,
And in that blue of liquid fire
In raptured ecstasy expire.

When I am dead no tears will flow
Upon my lonely grave below,
But from above the aerial blue
Will scatter over me tears of dew.

The mists about my tomb will wind
A veil of pearl with shadows twined;
But lured by sunbeams from on high
Twill melt into the azure sky. — Nikoloz Baratashvili

First one of you to call me Yoko," Todd warned as he stepped up, "is a dead man. — Ophelia London

And yet ... marriage seems to be the worst thing to happen to me. Though there are days I would argue that that wasn't true at all, and that the worst thing to happen to me is Nick Hudson. Not that picking one definitive answer would change the outcome. Nothing can change that now. Nothing dead can be brought back to life, literally or otherwise. — Crystal Cierlak

You're not terrified of me. You're terrified of letting yourself care for me, and I can't say I blame you. People who love me usually end up dead. But you see, I'm not going to give you any choice. You belong to me now whether you like it or not."
"I don't like it, not one bit!"
"Try to escape," he suggested coolly. "Go ahead. See what happens. Give me one excuse to take what I want from you, even if it is against your will. I want you that much. Too damned much." He turned without warning and kissed her, flattening her back against the pine mast. — Gaelen Foley

Kvothe looked at Bast for a long moment. "Oh Bast," he said softly to his student. His smile was gentle and sad. "I know what sort of story I'm telling. This is no comedy."
"This is the end of the story, Bast. We all know that." Kvothe's voice was matter-of-fact, as casual as if he were describing yesterday's weather. "I have led an interesting life, and this reminiscence has a certain sweetness to it. But ... "
Kvothe drew a deep breath and let it out gently. " ... but this is not a dashing romance. This is no fable where folk come back from the dead. It's not a rousing epic meant to stir the blood. No.
We all know what kind of story this is. — Patrick Rothfuss

So ... what? You want me to sign my name in blood or something?"
"Hmmm," he said, tapping his finger against his cheek as he looked at the ceiling - the epitome of an overly dramatic thinker.
I rolled my eyes.
"Why don't we just seal it with a kiss?" he suggested, as if the thought of it didn't gnaw at my intestines.
"Is there a Door Number Two?"
"Well, I could stay at your side every second until Nergal is dead," he answered. "And before you ask, there is no Door Number Three. — L.J. Kentowski

The tide, you see, is a fickle thing: stealing in, sliding away, always, always turning. She comes when you're not looking, a silent, liquid thief, only to rush away again, retreating from the shore like a coward. She gives sometimes too, though in fleeting, unexpected moments, yielding up her treasures and her dead--but never, ever her secrets. — Barbara Davis

Och, away now, Ruari. You'll be telling us you're not knowing who that woman is next! Man, man, that's an awful affliction." A grey-bristled, weather-beaten face beamed back at him.

"And isn't it you that's making the drives in her car at the dead of night, too?" A female voice joined in from behind the sweets jars: "Oh my, Ruari ... 'tis a terrible thing the guilt of the carnal pleasures!"

"I haven't had any carnal pleasures ... I simply got a lift home. You're terrible, right enough," he defended himself. — Robertson Tait

She is all the great heroines of the world in one. She is more than an individual. I love her, and I must make her love me. I want to make Romeo jealous. I want the dead lovers of the world to hear our laughter, and grow sad. I want a breath of our passion to stir dust into consciousness, to wake their ashes into pain. — Oscar Wilde

Audrey's head spun. "You puked in the alley? Wow. You must really like him."
"Oh, God. Don't say that." Victoria bent her head over her knees and took slow, deep breaths.
"The vomiting seems to be her way of expressing her feelings toward Ford," Rachel told Audrey.
"Aw. And they say romance is dead." — Julie James

Katherine -I wondered if this was how Dorothy felt when she woke up in Oz with all the little people squawking ding dong, the witch is dead. — Lorraine Beaumont

They understood that the meaning of life is connected, inextricably, to the meaning of death; that mourning is a romance in reverse, and if you love, you grieve and there are no exceptions-- only those who do it well and those who don't. And if death is regarded as an embarrassment or an inconvenience, if the dead are regarded as a nuisance from whom we seek a hurried riddance, then life and the living are in for like treatment. — Thomas Lynch

My wife is also particularly fond of vampire romance." Zoltan swallowed so hard that his eyes watered. "Are you serious? Do people really write those? And read them?" "I'm afraid so, my lord. They appear to be quite popular." "Why?" Zoltan set the glass down. "We're dead half the time. And until recently, we couldn't father children." Domokos's mouth twitched. "I believe the writers are focusing on your other attributes, my lord. — Kerrelyn Sparks

Won? He's one of them! How exactly is that winning?"
Michael shook his head, moved up behind her, and put his hands on her shoulders. He kissed the nape of her neck gently. "I don't know, Eve. I'm just telling you what I heard. He got some kind of agreement out of the vampires. And it was because Amelie loved him."
"Yeah, loved him enough to kill him and turn him into a bloodsucking fiend," Eve said grimly. "How sweet. Romance isn't dead. Oh, wait. It is. — Rachel Caine

Then I stay beside you for as long as we have." He kept stroking my hair. Cats like to be petted. Cait Sidhe like to pet. "October, I meant it when I told you I was not leaving you. I will never leave you while both of us are living. You were not quite this human when I met you, and you were far less human when I finally allowed myself to love you. But the essential core of your being has remained the same no matter what the balance of your blood."
"How is it that you always know the exact right stupid romance novel thing to say?" I asked, leaning up to kiss him.
He smiled against my lips. When I pulled back, he said. "I was a student of Shakespeare before the romance novel was even dreamt. Be glad I do not leave you horrible poetry on your pillow, wrapped securely around the bodies of dead rats. — Seanan McGuire

I had this daft idea to come and bury the past. Except the past is not quite dead. — Sherry Thomas

(Carnations) The only flower that, when given to someone, is marginally superior to dead ones. — Marisha Pessl

So, if you had died, I wouldn't have cared? Is that what you're saying?"
"I don't know. Would it have mattered?"
Of all the horrible things you've said to me. That is the worst by far."
And he knew it. ...
"I've never wanted you dead not at my lowest point." She softened. "Just a little. — Mary J. Williams

Security has a report of an unattended fainting goat that is loose in the building as well, sir' 'A, What?' I Snap. 'A fainting goat' 'How do you know it faints?' 'Guests continue to report a dead goat. Surveillance footage shows that it's just fainting' 'What a relief' Dec says. 'Because a fainting goat is so much better than a dead one' he turns to me 'When did your suite become a petting zoo?' 'Shut up — Julia Kent

Talking to you is like talking to someone I've never met before. When did you become so competitive? When did you decide that you needed to win all of the time?'
He stopped dead in the promenade and grabbed her hand, turning her to face him.
He caught her by surprise. She leant her neck backwards slightly in defence.
'When I lost you. — Tan Redding

Nothing is less trustworthy than a woman's tears. — Wataru Watari

Our marriages were meant to be alive, not dead. Is your marriage more like romance or roadkill? — Beth Moore

My mother named me Vivia Perpetua because she believed naming me after some long-dead, mostly forgotten saint would motivate me to spend my life collecting unused eyeglasses for the blind or doling out mosquito netting to malaria-plagued Africans. Not that there is anything wrong with those efforts, but please." Vivia in Faking It — Leah Marie Brown

I liked the way he cradled my cheeks in his hands as we kissed.
He pressed his body closer to mine. I moved backward until my butt touched something cold. He'd backed me into the cooler. The thought repulsed me for a second and I tried to shove him away.
"Kiss me back," he whispered, and I responded, all thoughts of where we were flying out of my brain. I wriggled closer and touched my lips to his once again. His hands tangled in my hair and the tip of his tongue met mine. — Marlene Perez

Don't blink. Don't even blink." she whispered.
"What in the hell are you talking about?" Aiden looked around trying to identify a hidden threat.
"You blink and you're dead." Meryn stared at the two large stone angels on either side of a heavy looking wooden door unblinking. Aiden's hand went to his sidearm.
"Meryn, that is just a statue."
"But what if it isn't? I mean up until this week I didn't think paranormals existed and now you're all over the fucking place. I can't take the chance. — Alanea Alder

I cocked my eyebrow at her. "Are you kidding me, Clare?" I indicated to the dead man on the broken pine table. "There is a dead Rogue in your kitchen."
"Why is there a dead Rogue in my kitchen?"
"Because I killed him in there. — Elizabeth Morgan

Husband-hunting. Always a rousing sport. I suppose you go there dressed to kill."
"No, indeed. What good is a dead husband?" She smiled airily. "I go dressed to maim only. — Sabrina Jeffries

I am sure we each loved a different man. Because a lover exists only in fragments, a dozen or so if the romance is new, a thousand if we've married him, and out of those fragments our heart constructs an entire person. What we each create, since whatever is missing is filled in by our imagination, is the person we wish him to be. The less we know him, of course, the more we love him. And that's why we always remember that first rapturous night when he was a stranger, and why this rapture returns only when he is dead. — Andrew Sean Greer