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Romantic Comedy Quotes

Browse 223 quotes about Romantic Comedy.

Romantic Comedy Quotes

“People stumble upon things they want to stumble upon. I find Siddhartha now and then. In the past, I often stumbled upon his pictures and videos because I wanted to. I’ve always been afraid of giving up on the hope that one day Siddhartha will find me. Because then he might never. The only thing that makes my life worth living is the likelihood of having my dreams come true.”

“I wonder, if I’ll document our story, Siddhartha and mine…more mine than his, will it be a musical? If it will be a musical, and if it will have our story…what will be our song? Will it be a good song? Everybody has a story, the stranger we meet on a ferry or the little girl we see across the road, we all share a story together, might just be a story of eye contact, or the story of silence…the story of nothingness, but there are stories, everywhere, between everyone…but not all of us share a song together…I want to share a song with Siddhartha, and I want him to share a song with me. I’ll call them our song.”

“I want a romance novel, not an ugly soap opera. Once we break up, we lose things we fell in love for. When we get back together, it’s not the same. The essence is gone. It’s a new person and a new story. And if I get a new story, I want new characters too. Not the same person, again and again, breaking, losing parts, trying to fix the irreparable.”

“When I write to you, I expect you to read that—my letters, and my songs, and the poems. But I know you’re not reading, so I hold nothing back. Between sleepless, lonely, and scary nights and sometimes even between the happiest nights. I open your mailbox and write some dumb love letters to the guy I found on the internet and fell in love with. — Arya Kashyap”

“Even though it has always been one-sided, sometimes it’s fun to just have someone to shower your feelings on. Someone who becomes the highlight of your day. They make you feel happy and silly. It’s hard. It’s very hard to let go of a big, stinking, painful, all-consuming crush. — Arya Kashyap”

“But then, he said, "Cute nose." Cute. I have a cute nose. And a cute boyfriend. With cute elk kisses. Also, elk do not sleep standing up. Also, female elk don't have antlers. Also, male elk (bulls) have a harem of cows. Which is maybe why elk popped into my head randomly. Me and Sadie were the cows in Heck's harem. That's weird. But it does explain why I'd randomly think of elks. Elk. Also, though, elk remind me of when we went to Yellowstone—me, Mom, Dad, Mr. Griffin—and saw elk. It was nice. Happy family. And fun. Therefore, elk make me feel happy. And that's probably the real reason for elk randomly popping into my head. Or maybe my mind is a bull with a harem of way too many thought cows! Weirdo.”

“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.”

“In an unexpected move, Bryce reached for my hand and pulled me to his side. “Play along. We’ll straighten this out later.” Good Lord, the school hottie was touching me. It felt like I’d won some sort of geek-girl lottery. And depending on how this played out, Bryce could be the answer to my boyfriend problems. If he wanted me to cover for him, then he needed to help me with my overprotective brothers.”

“If you ever read this, maybe one night when you’ll be free, You’ll say, ‘The crazy girl wrote a stupid book about me.’ Please don’t read this book, with your friends. Read it in your bed, alone, on a night just by yourself. Don’t laugh at it with that gorgeous girl who got great hair, Just one time, behave like the guy, my friends say, is rare. Dim the lights, read between the lines. Frown and smile and roll your eyes. But please don’t read in rush. It’s just a wishful thinking, but I hope, that night, when you’ll close your eyes, maybe just one time. You’ll think of us. Maybe that’ll be our song, and I’ll call it a love song.”

“Is this 12B? This is going to be fun!” The British accent cut through the air like a wire cutter through clay. It sliced into me and my peaceful serenity that I had created. “No, no, no, no,” I said, a little too emphatically. “No, this isn’t 12B or no, this isn't going to be fun?” “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“It’s weird to be twenty-seven and still be believing in fairytales, but it feels normal. I don’t think I’ll be comfortable thinking through love, planning on it, and calculating the probability. That doesn’t mean I will not ugly up my house with practical things, or I won’t fight over laundry. I just think it’s such a strange thing for me to be in love with half my heart and all my brain. I don’t want a dull and practical love life, much less a marriage.”

“I fight to keep my fingers from trembling. I have a sudden urge to lick him. That’s not part of the plan. Maybe I can take a bit of a detour, taste what’s on display, even though I probably shouldn’t. Going against the plan is never advisable. But maybe just a little peck – it’s harmless, right? I lean in, and my lips connect with his skin. The reasonable part of my brain reminds me, Not a good idea. The other needy and somewhat desperate parts counter with, Oh god. Best. Idea. Ever.”

“It’s like I’m suddenly a hormonally charged teenager or living in a bad romance novel: I suddenly can’t stop myself from noticing every man around me. Which means that Darcy, Samantha, and Michael are probably right. Plus, there was that disturbing dream about Voldemort this morning. I need to lose my gay-husband virginity before I lose my mind entirely. I need to find someone to sleep with me. And the fact that I don’t have the faintest idea how to make that happen is just further proof that it needs to. —SINGLE-MINDED”

“Rejection is an opportunity for your selection.”

“I’m not freaking out. I’m turned on. I’m thinking about sniffing your bed pillows like a weirdo, contemplating if it’d be better for you to bend me over the island or the couch, and my ovaries are basically exploding—pew, pew, pew—like fireworks because you’re so good with Chunky that I can imagine you as the one of those dads who’d play tea party with your daughter. And all of that is making me hot and nervous . . . and . . . and . . . I should stop talking now.”

“Ah, like how Sharon Parker’s bra kind of found its way into your locker?” He leaned in, resting his elbows on the table. “Are you going to constantly bring these things up the entire time we’re dating?” “Sorry. Just using my prior knowledge to try and gauge what kind of fake boyfriend you’re going to make.” “Well, if your bitterness is any indication of the kind of fake girlfriend you’re going to be, I won’t hold my breath for you to fake put out.”

“The mystery of keeping some secrets by not sharing everything about each other until they met face-to-face, made their relationship deliciously stimulating and intense. Their online chemistry was undeniable; the desire exhilarating. Ella kept daydreaming about their first touch, the raging urge it would stir, and a slow burn that could not be extinguished.”

“For a split second, I wondered if he were some type of sexy sorcerer, who was able to remove my clothing by the force of his will alone. I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on the buttons of his shirt, willing them to pop off. It didn’t work. Then again, it was pretty hard to focus while he was touching me, so maybe under different circumstances, I too could be a sexy sorcerer. Watch out world.”