Romantic Thoughts Quotes & Sayings

Inside the front flap of the book were handwritten names of the dozen or so people who had checked the book out before Naomi. Instead of writing her name, Naomi had a thin paper receipt with the due date printed on it. She could never possess this book the way those other people had. It was one of those uselessly nostalgic and sentimental thoughts that serve only our own romantic ideals, but I couldn't help believing it was true nonetheless. I took a pencil out from behind the register and handed it to her. — Dinaw Mengestu

The more we are filled with thoughts of lust the less we find true romantic love. — Douglas Horton

Words are more thoughts;
the photographed images always
ends up having a romantic gloss about it
- no matter how I try to avoid it. — Robert Frank

If you're courting me, you have to tell me something about yourself that no one else knows."
He was silent for a moment. "I'd rather jerk-off to thoughts of you than be with anyone else. — Katie Reus

The glow of a sunset more lasting, more roseate. more human - filling, perhaps, with romantic wonder the thoughts of some solitary lover, wandering in the street below and brought to a standstill before the mystery of the human presence which those lighted windows at once revealed and screened from sight ... — Marcel Proust

Now he must put into practice all his fine poetic thoughts about romantic love. — Philip Zaleski

Pulling me into his arms, he trailed light kisses from my ear to my neck, almost making me forget how late I was running.I pushed him away. "You better stop that, or we're never getting out of here.""My thoughts exactly. — Alyssa Rose Ivy

My thoughts and wishes are all that surrounds, mysteries hold you then fly you away. You know you are my life, my lady of dreams. — Jon Anderson

My love for you attains immortality whenever it is touched by the thought of death — Munia Khan

Writing's much more romantic when its pen and ink and paper. It's... More timeless. and worthwhile. Think about it. There are so many words gushing out into the universe these days. All digitally. All in Comic Sans or Times New Roman. Silly Websites. Stupid news stories digitally uploaded to a 24-hour channel. Where's all this writing going? Who's keeping a note of it all? Who's in charge of deciding what's worthwhile and what isn't? But back then... Back then, if someone wanted to write something they had to buy paper. Buy it! And ink. And a pen. And they couldn't waste too many sheets cos it was expensive. So when people wrote, they wrote because it was worthwhile... not just because they had some half-baked idea and they wanted to pointlessly prove their existence by sharing it on some bloody social networking site. — Holly Bourne

I'd also made the mistake of thinking love was a single identifiable emotion, something sharp like an arrowhead to the heart or some other romantic nonsense. It wasn't, not for most people. Love was an accumulation of things, of thoughts, feelings, desires and hopes. — Fabian Black

One of the rarest and most beautiful things in this world is to meet someone who has the ability to intoxicate you. Every moment with her was exhilarating, and every moment without her was spent captivated by thoughts about her. She was like the finest of wines. And I was getting drunk. — Richie Singh

You are a romantic. Marry this woman. Have children. Stepping in baby shit will soon drive thoughts of romance from you. — Gavin G. Smith

There, alone among the trees with the sound of the stream moving, Keirah and Kathel felt the heat of desire flicker between them. The warmth of the moment shared caused them both to still their thoughts and momentarily forget their speech. — Madison Thorne Grey

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

Please remember that your twin flame connection is not about fulfilling your own romantic needs, it's about reflecting the light to others in the world.
If you are having problems with your twin, just back off, send your twin good thoughts, or none, and allow the purity of the twin flame shine and illuminate others you come into contact with. THAT IS WHAT THE TWIN FLAME IS FOR. Rise above your own personal desires and serve the good of all humanity. — Sienna McQuillen

I'm probably getting too familiar with him, but there's something about him that makes me feel like I would tell him anything. He asks these incredibly direct questions, things that some of my closest friends have never even thought to ask, and I'm inexplicably compelled to share all these deeply personal thoughts. He's like human Xanax or something. — Lisa Daily

But I have one want which I have never yet been able to satisfy; and the absence of the object of which I now feel as a most severe evil. I have no friend, Margaret: when I am glowing with the enthusiasm of success, there will be none to participate my joy; if I am assailed by disappointment, no one will endeavour to sustain me in dejection. I shall commit my thoughts to paper, it is true; but that is a poor medium for the communication of feeling. I desire the company of a man who could sympathise with me; whose eyes would reply to mine. You may deem me romantic, my dear sister, but I bitterly feel the want of a friend. I have no one near me, gentle yet courageous, possessed of a cultivated as well as of a capacious mind, whose tastes are like my own, to approve or amend my plans. How would such a friend repair the faults of your poor brother! — Mary Shelley

He doesn't love you. But I love you. I want you to have your own thoughts and ideas and feelings, even when I hold you in my arms. — Willis George Emerson

If you put a man in the mindset of romance, his mind will start to create those synapses and he'll start taking charge. — Roberto Hogue

She had no doubt the man would kill her. Stupid things went skating through her mind
she'd never told her mother how much she loved her chocolate cupcakes ... or Felicia what a kind friend she'd been ... or Keith that it was cool and mature that he owned a house, even if it was in Brooklyn. — Stephanie Bond

We are staring at each other, forgetting about the harsh reality and I can feel my heart reacting. He touches my cheek and the familiar electric current runs through me. His hands are warm, caressing my pale skin. His deep-blue eyes are filled with serenity and passion. I keep telling myself to breathe, but I am unable to exhale the air from my lungs. Then he leans forward and his lips touch mine, increasing the temperature in my body. He kisses me gently, trying to break his way through, testing to see if I let him in. His lips are sweet and warm. A few seconds later it is all over and he disappears once again, leaving me uncontrollably awake and trying to gather my wild thoughts. — Joanna Mazurkiewicz

i am
always
stalking you, my dear.

with my thoughts
my words.
my breath. — Sanober Khan

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

Intuitively, she sensed Leonardo's gaze on her, and she caught sight of him near the entrance to the balcony. He was watching her, though he should have been engrossed in the conversation with the two other people with whom he was standing, one of which was the redhead. Even from that distance across the room, she could sense his desire for her, and there was an answering pounding of the blood in her veins as their gazes locked.

Maybe it was the kiss between Russell and Joan and the romantic notion of long-lasting love, but Alexa found her thoughts straying to memories of sharing passionate kisses with Leonardo. She carefully placed her glass of wine on the table before it slipped from her damp fingers and crashed onto the expensive white carpet. She felt nervous and jittery because she knew the reason for Leonardo's smoldering scrutiny. She was fully aware of what was expected of her, and she found herself breathlessly anticipating the end of the evening. — Delaney Diamond

You are a bit like that painting, Minnow. Remember how lovingly and carefully formed you are. Your thoughts, your talents, your memories, your mistakes ... they all make the complete canvas of you. Even though others may mistake your worth, you must never value yourself any less. — Michelle Marcos

Twenty seven years ago, during my first romantic relationship with a boy, I started keeping a diary about my thoughts and experiences. That diary formed the basis of my novel "A Dream of Two Moons," the title of which comes from some paranormal occurrences from real life. — Sahara Sanders

I have always lusted after a sepia-toned library with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and a sliding ladder. I fantasie about Tennessee Williams' types of evenings involving rum on the porch. I long for balmy slightly sleepless nights with nothing but the whoosh of a wooden ceiling fan to keep me company, and the joy of finding the cool spot on the bed. I would while away my days jotting down my thoughts in a battered leather-bound notebook, which would have been given to me by some former lover. My scribbling would form the basis of a best-selling novel, which they wold discuss in tiny independent bookshops on quaint little streets in forgotten corners of terribly romantic European cities. In other words, I fantasize about being credible, in that artistic, slightly bohemian way that only girls with very long legs can get away with. — Amy Mowafi

I love you, in my mind where my thoughts reside, in my heart where my emotions live, and in my soul where my dreams are born. I love you. — Dee Henderson

Welcome," the man said in utter contradiction to his urban street clothes. He eyed the vibrator in Cooper's hand but whatever his thoughts were on a guy wielding a vibrator, he kept to himself. "I'll get some candles. — Jill Shalvis

Then, if you want, we can bring her back to New York and keep her safe. If she means that much to you, she means that much to me." My head continued to move from side to side. "Who the fuck are you?" Nox leaned close, his cologne clouding my thoughts. "I'm Batman, princess. Next time you want to fly across the country, tell me. I won't delay two hundred people's plans, and we can just fly in the bat plane. — Aleatha Romig

Her thoughts drifted to Tyler Dunn... to the feeling of being held in his arms. Wistfulness curled through her heart and she wished for the freedom to enjoy the attention of a man... to indulge in a lady-like flirtation... to fall in love. Although the wishes weren't new, for the first time, she had someone to weave the fantasy around. She could easily paint a romantic dream of living here with Tyler. But, Lily knew that dreaming about such a life would only make it harder to live with her reality. Yet, she couldn't help imagining him in the pool like this, naked as a newborn babe, yet all man. — Debra Holland

Dreams they come and go, but thoughts like love will always grow. — Meat Loaf

But he needed to be certain before committing to something so - the word, certain, arrested his thoughts. A person can't be absolutely certain about anything, not certainty in the sense of a mathematical proof. He wasn't certain about Kate. He saw her, observed her, wanted to be with her. Somehow, he just knew. For reasons already set in his heart, the way he was wired, Josh knew Kate was a person he wanted in his life. She was the proof. Would it be the same way with God? — H.L. Wegley

He'd set down his drink and leaned in. "Fine. You want me to elaborate, I will. Here's the deal: I'm a guy. Generally speaking, we're pretty simple folk. I know women always want to think we have these deep, romantic, and emotionally angsty thoughts going on in our heads, but in reality? Not so much. You women have layers and you're complicated and mysterious and you say one thing, but you really mean another, and it's this whole tricky package that intrigues us and scares us and challenges us all at the same time. But men aren't like that. You talk about me not letting you in, but maybe what you don't realize is this: there is no in." He pointed to himself. "It's all right here on the surface, Jessica. What you see is what you get. — Julie James

I was so comfortable. I was warm and cozy, in that blissful, dreamy place between asleep and awake ...
Until my comfy pillow moved.
And the blanket keeping me warm moved.
I grumbled at them sleepily, and then my pillow and blanket chuckled.
I looked up, trying to make sense of my thoughts, and I saw him.
Cameron.
My pillow and blanket was Cameron; a half asleep, chuckling Cameron. I groaned and let my head fall back on his chest, his arms tightened around me. "I wondered why my pillow moved."
He chuckled again, and I could hear the sound resonate in my ear. — N.R. Walker

One speck of dung will spoil the pot. In order to keep my thoughts on a high level, I put a positive construction on things. — Kathleen Rowland

One's thoughts are one's most crucial adventures. Seriously and strongly and intently to contemplate doing murder is everyway more exciting, more romantic, more profoundly tragic than the murder done. — Mary MacLane

Just as "normal" as anyone... only I write my thoughts out on paper & illustrate a world of Romance in your mind as you read my creations. ~ A. L. Woodz — Angel L. Woodz

Father Consett sighed.
'I told you this was an evil place,' he said. 'In the deep forests. She'd not have such evil thoughts in another place.' Mrs Satterthwaite said:
'I'd rather you didn't say that, Father. Sylvia would have evil thoughts in any place.'
'Sometimes,' the priest said, 'at night I think I hear the claws of evil things scratching on the shutters. This was the last place in Europe to be Christianised. Perhaps it wasn't ever even Christianised and they're here yet.'
Mrs Satterthwaite said:
'It's all very well to talk like that in the day-time. It makes the place seem romantic. But it must be near one at night. And things are bad enough as it is.'
'They are,' Father Consett said. 'The devil's at work. — Ford Madox Ford

Is this seat taken?"
The deep, gravelly voice jolted Noelle from her blood-thirsty thoughts. When she laid eyes on the man it belonged to her breath caught in her throat.
She blinked, wondering if maybe she'd dreamed him, but then he flashed her a captivating grin and she realized that he must be real - her mind wasn't capable of conjuring up a smile this heart-stoppingly gorgeous.
A pair of vivid blue eyes watched her expectantly as she searched for her voice.
"There are lots of other seats available," she finally replied, gesturing to the deserted tables all around them.
He shrugged. "I don't want to sit anywhere but here."
She moistened her suddenly dry lips. "Why?"
"Because none of those other seats are across from you," he said simply. — Elle Kennedy

the one
who will jolt awake
all the unwritten
the unsung
and the unlived
in me.

i am waiting
for him. — Sanober Khan

You do your work as a photographer and everything becomes past. Words are more like thoughts; the photographer's picture is always surrounded by a kind of romantic glamor - no matter what you do, and how you twist it. — Robert Frank

He sat with his cup of tea at the kitchen table. On the window ledge beside him stood the two bottles of cherry brandy, one half empty, the other full. Romantic thoughts stirred in the silence, touching again on unwritten novels and the past. He suddenly had the sensation of being abroad, out of reach of yesterday's existence. This abroad was a place of tranquillity, a Switzerland of the soul blanketed in snows of peace, permeated with a dread of causing disturbance; where no bird sang or called, as if out of no desire to. — Andrey Kurkov

Sumire was a hopeless romantic, a bit set in her ways - innocent of the ways of the world, to put a nice spin on it. Start her talking and she'd go on nonstop, but if she was with someone she didn't get along with - most people in the world, in other words - she barely opened her mouth. She smoked too much, and you could count on her to lose her ticket every time she took the train. She'd get so engrossed in her thoughts at times she'd forget to eat, and she was as thin as one of those war orphans in an old Italian film - like a stick with eyes. I'd love to show you a photo of her but I don't have any. She hated having her photograph taken - no desire to leave behind for posterity a Portrait of the Artist as a Young (Wo)Man. — Haruki Murakami

It was chivalrous because she was too remote for real companionship, so that there was always a kind of chance in one's offering; perhaps she would not perceive it; perhaps she would kindle rapture by a sudden recognition; her distance made such close moments exquisitely sweet. But alas, no humble friendship however romantic, could give her the sense that we completely shared her thoughts; the nature of them made it hard for anyone to understand; and her sorrow was very lonely. Perhaps one would come into a room unexpectedly and surprise her in tears, and, to one's miserable confusion, she would hide them instantly, and speak ordinary words, as though she did not imagine that one could understand her suffering. — Virginia Woolf

The American humorist sat on his couch suffering thoughts of her, trying to figure out how to win back her affections, wondering what had happened between them or just tumbling head-over-heels down into romantic oblivion where the image of a remembered kiss provokes bottomless despair and makes death seem like the right idea.
He experienced the basics of love ended. — Richard Brautigan

Then there are the simple things. The way she fits against my side when we're sitting together. How she can silence my addled thoughts with one look. The sound of my name from her lips. The way she can make a moment, any moment, a thousands times better when she is there. How the simplest pleasures in life become exciting with the promise of sharing the experience with her. — Erik Tomblin