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Romantic Quotes

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Romantic Quotes

“WO PAL BHI KYA PAL THE WO PAL BHI KYA PAL THE. JO BITE HUE KAL ME THE. BITAYA THA EK WAQT UN DOSTO KE SATH BHULE BISRE UN RATO KE SATH. JITE THE HUM BHI GURUR ME ZINDAGI NA HARNE KE SURAT ME YE ZINDAGI. MILI THI JAB PAHLI NAZAR TUJHSE. GUM HO GAYA THA YE DIL KAHI MUJHSE. RUK GAYA THA WAQT JAISE. THAM GAYI THI YE SAANSE VAISE. WO PAL BHI KYA PAL THE. JO BITE HUE KAL ME THE WO CHUP CHUP KAR TUJHE DEKHNA. WO KHAWABHO ME BHI TUJHE DEKHNA WO DUAON ME TUJHE MANGNA WO NIGAHON ME TUJHE BAITHANA YAAD HAI WO SAB…. WO PAL BHI KYA PAL THE JO BITE HUE KAL ME THI TAB DIKHAYA TUNE. SACH HI BATAYA TUNE BIKTI HAI JAHAN ME SURAT NA HAI SIRAT KA KOI MOL. MILTI HAI MOHABBAT YAHA KAUDIYO KE MOL. ZIDD THI MERI BHI TUJHE PANE KI. EK DIN TUJHE EHSAS DILANE KI. SURAT TO BAS DO DIN KI KAHANI HAI. SIRAT HI ZINDAGI BHAR KAAM ANI HAI. AJ HOTA HAI TUJHE BHI MAHSOOS. JO KAL MUJH PAR THI BITI. AJJ WO TUJHKO HAI JINI . SAHI KAHA HAI KISI NE MOHABBAT KISI KO PAGAL BANA DE. TO KISI KO PATTHAR BANA DE. WO PAL BHI KYA PAL THE. JO BITE HUE KAL ME THE.”

“And the heat was a medium which made this change of out-look possible. As a liberating power with its own laws it was outside my experience. In the heat, the commonest objects changed their nature. Walls, trees, the very ground one trod on, instead of being cool were warm to the touch: and the sense of touch is the most transfiguring of all the senses. Many things to eat and drink, which one had enjoyed because they were hot, one now shunned for the same reason. Unless restrained by ice, the butter melted. Besides altering or intensifying all smells the heat had a smell of its own - a garden smell, I called it to myself, compounded of the scents of many flowers, and odours loosened from the earth, but with something peculiar to itself which defied analysis. Sounds were fewer and seemed to come from far away, as if Nature grudged the effort. In the heat the senses, the mind, the heart, the body, all told a different tale. One felt another person, one was another person.”

“This was the last thing we needed. I was sure we made quite a pair, me in my evening gown and Milo in his bloodstained shirt. 'Let's hurry to the car, Milo.' I made a move to descend the front steps, ready to push my way through the crowd, but Milo stopped me with a hand on my arm. 'Just a moment, darling.' 'What is it?' 'Let's give them something to put in the gossip columns first, shall we?' And he pulled me to him and kissed me thoroughly in the blinding glare of the flashbulbs.”

“My theory is that Dad wanted to give Mom the only anniversary gift he hadn’t given her yet.” “You would take the romantic approach.” Zander had remained standing, one shoulder casually braced against the fireplace. “I think their anniversary reminded Garner that they’re getting older, and if they were ever going to be missionaries, it needed to be now.” Nora arched an eyebrow. “You would take the death-is-imminent approach.”

“Life is an adventure to be certain," Milo replied. "Especially if one has a nose for trouble. Isn't that right, my perceptive darling?" Sometimes one could have too much adventure. I was suddenly very weary of this holiday. It would be nice to get back to England, to rest at Thornecrest and enjoy our London flat. I was ready to go home. "Can we go back to London at once?" I asked Milo. "Very well, darling." He came to me and pulled me into his arms. "But let's not start packing just yet." I looked up at him smiling. "You don't mind us going home? I know how much you love your nights spent running wild in Paris." "Je n'aime que toi, ma chérie," he murmured, leaning to kiss me. Emile seemed to appreciate the sentiment for he screeched loudly, clapping his paws together with approval and smacking his lips. Milo glanced at the monkey with an annoyed sigh. "That will do, Emile. You've been most helpful, but I'm afraid I've had enough of your interference for one day." And then he swept me up into his arms and carried me to the bedroom, kicking the door firmly closed behind us.”

“Remember, the IMAGE of yourself and the lifestyle you're living on a daily basis appreciates with time, it doesn't depreciate. So imagine looking at your Instagram photos in the next 30 years. I can almost guarantee you with 100% certainty that it's those photos that you took when you were in your most heightened sensual frequency (maybe because you just had a new hairdo, or new pair of Louboutins, or your romantic relationship was lit, or you were about to eat some exotic food at some fancy restaurant, or you had a spa day, or you flew to Dubai or Paris for a baecation), that you're going to CHERISH the most.”

“She was making it damn hard to back away. "You're a sister. There are rules against this kind of thing." "My brother isn't here to object." "Then I have to object on his behalf." "Do you really think he'd rather I ended up with someone like that deputy." "Or the doctor," he reminded her. "Than one of his teammates?" "In a heartbeat, sugar. I'm a bad bet. No one knew that better than your brother." "Yet he chose you to watch over me.”

“You kept me down so you would feel up, but love isn't a competition. The sun and the moon exist simultaneously in their aloneness, bestowing light, guiding life and time, because they work together. I'm not sure if I'm the sun or if I'm the moon, but I have found a love that embraces the equality of their inseparable connection.”

“I have always let you know how much I care, right? You never had to wonder. I'm not a man for words. Daddy showed me that you 'do' for a woman. Remember that time when you damn near had a nervous breakdown because it looked like the hickory-nut tree in the front yard was thinking about dying? Where I'm from, we don't believe in spending money on pets, let alone trees. But I couldn't bear to see you fret, so I hired a tree doctor. See, in my mind, that was a love letter.”

“In years to come, if the book was still in his possession, I wanted him to ache. Better yet, I wanted someone to look through his books one day, open up this tiny volume of Armance, and ask, Tell me who was in silence, somewhere in Italy in the mid-eighties? And then I'd want him to feel something as darting as sorrow and fiercer than regret, maybe even pity for me, because in the bookstore that morning I'd have taken pity too, if pity was all he had to give, if pity could have made him put an arm around me, and underneath his surge of pity and regret, hovering like a vague, erotic undercurrent that was years in the making, I wanted him to remember the morning on Monet's berm when I'd kissed him not the first but the second time and given him my spit in his mouth because I so desperately wanted his in mine.”