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Romance Novels Quotes

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Romance Novels Quotes

“All things are made beautiful at a timely hour.”

“How to Love (The Sonnet) How do I love thee? Lemme count the ways. No wait, why bother counting, When I can shower you with praise! When there's sunshine on your face, Lemme drink it like miracle syrup. When your soul is blue and cloudy, Lemme be your personal stand-up. Your achievements are my own, As such they boost my swag. When you are mad at yourself, Lemme be your punching bag. Give me your body or not, I don't care. I just wanna be there to wipe your every tear.”

“The fish is that perfect, amazing guy it can never work out with—you know, a bird and a fish may fall in love—but where would they live? . . . So the fish is your total dream guy, he’s smart, he’s handsome, he gets all your jokes, he loves to talk, he gives you a nine-hour orgasm and then makes you homemade chocolate chip pancakes and serves you breakfast in bed—but he lives all the way across the country and neither of you can move, or he’s married, or next in line for the throne, or he has a terminal disease or something . . . the fish.”

“Romance novels are about connection. About people who connect with one another against the odds- despite their differences, their flaws, their secrets. In a romance novel you never have to worry, you know everything will end happily.' 'Unlike real life,' Collins said. 'In real life you have to worry.' 'Exactly. That's why I used to prefer novels.' 'Used to?' 'Now I'm not so sure.' He tilted his head. 'I've spent the last six months under a silencing spell that basically ruled out any chance I had of connecting with another person,' he said. 'Take it from me. The real thing is worth all the worry in the world.”

“I often think that he's the only one of us who's achieved immortality. I don't mean in the sense of fame and I don't mean he won't die someday. But he's living it. I think he is what the conception really means. You know how people long to be eternal. But they die with everyday that passes. . . They change, they deny, they contradict- and they call it growth. At the end there is nothing left, nothing unreveresed or unbetrayed; as if there had never been an entity, only a succession of adjectives fading in and out of an unformed mass. How do they expect a permanence which they never held for a single moment? But Howard- one can imagine him living forever.”

“Empath Hearts that smell the sorrow Soaks us up, but borrowed It pricks the eyes like onions' stench Instigating us to clenched Captivating eyes with a puzzled glance They know not the fear that it plants All I grasp are shards of glass I hear the sound just like the bats Broken from the world we live in History shuns any emotional whirlwind I know the moment will eventually pass The overbearing altitude The high humidity it casts Still, the spirit pulses its cry I could not ignore it, no, not I Its vibration makes such a clearing Irrational pause, so domineering Tears are a constant side effect Pouring down and making a mess I can’t form the words to comfort thee Society bans any feelings or needs With absolutes and shameful banes With no remedy or comfort gained In truth, I wish I could cure this curse To let go and escape the populace hurt But I can’t let this emotion pass Because I’m an empath”

“I'm in love with her determination and her commitment, her soft side, the way she manages to tell me exactly how she's feeling and why, no matter how uncomfortable it might make her at first. She's taught me communicating doesn't mean everything is perfect, it doesn't mean we don't disagree. It means we work through the imperfect bit together, and if we don't agree, we at least know why the other feels that way, even if it's not going to change our minds. We're still individuals, but we're individuals together, and I never knew relationships could be like this.”

“You probably think you know all about men, because you read a lot of romance novels, so you think you're an expert on men. But I'm gonna tell you a little secret: the men in those books are fiction. They do not at all represent how men in real life actually think. Those romance novels were written for women by women (and a few men who know what women like to read, so they write romance to make a quick buck.) When you read a book like Grey, Christian's inner monologue does not at all sound like how a man actually thinks in real life. It sounds like a woman does a poor job of imagining how a man thinks. The fictitious men in romance novels are as fake and imaginary as vampires. They're not real. Right about now, there's probably a little voice in your head, screaming: “NOOO!!! You can't say that! You can't speak for all men! Every man is different!!” True. No two dogs are alike. And yet, all dogs have something in common that makes them dogs, and makes them different from cats. The same goes for men and women. The trouble starts when cats don't realize that dogs are different. Dogs think differently, and perceive the world differently, than cats do. I'm a dog. You're a cat. And a dog knows better what it's like to be a dog than a cat does.”

“There's a reason why most men don't read romance: Romance novels are wish-fulfillment for women. The fictitious men in romance novels fall all over themselves trying to please a woman. Does that sound like your real life experience with men? No of course not. (Except for guys who want to fuck you. There is no man more attentive as the guy who wants to fuck you for the first time.) That's why you read romance. To get something you don't get in real life. Because your husband's idea of romance is bringing out the trash and not farting during sex.”

“أجمل ما في الحب بداياته التي تسبق الاعتراف به بشكلٍ صريحٍ.. وأسوأ ما فيه أن تكون له نهاية حتَّى وإن كانت سعيدة.. فالسّعادة يضيعها الملل والاعتياد، وإن حافظ عليها المحبون تبقى كسلعةٍ مُجمدةٍ، فقدت حيويتها وفائدتها، فليت كل العشاق يحبون من البداية إلى البداية !!”

“The hours tick by as I lie in bed. Memories keep surfacing, tormenting me into unbelievable sadness. I can't bring myself to move. I can't fight the memories that keep filling my thoughts. I stay curled in the fetal position as each memory plays out. I can't stop them from coming. I can't make them go away. Nothing can distract me. I can't block the memories, so they continue to come.”