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Sweet Romance Quotes

Browse 153 quotes about Sweet Romance.

Sweet Romance Quotes

“Chicago, Illinois 1896 Opening Night Wearing her Brünnhilda costume, complete with padding, breastplate, helm, and false blond braids, and holding a spear as if it were a staff, Sophia Maxwell waited in the wings of the Canfield-Pendegast theatre. The bright stage lighting made it difficult to see the audience filling the seats for opening night of Die Walküre, but she could feel their anticipation build as the time drew near for the appearance of the Songbird of Chicago. She took slow deep breaths, inhaling the smell of the greasepaint she wore on her face. Part of her listened to the music for her cue, and the other part immersed herself in the role of the god Wotan’s favorite daughter. From long practice, Sophia tried to ignore quivers of nervousness. Never before had stage fright made her feel ill. Usually she couldn’t wait to make her appearance. Now, however, nausea churned in her stomach, timpani banged pain-throbs through her head, her muscles ached, and heat made beads of persperation break out on her brow. I feel more like a plucked chicken than a songbird, but I will not let my audience down. Annoyed with herself, Sophia reached for a towel held by her dresser, Nan, standing at her side. She lifted the helm and blotted her forehead, careful not to streak the greasepaint. Nan tisked and pulled out a small brush and a tin of powder from one of the caprious pockets of her apron. She dipped the brush into the powder and wisked it across Sophia’s forehead. “You’re too pale. You need more rouge.” “No time.” A rhythmic sword motif sounded the prelude to Act ll. Sophia pivoted away from Nan and moved to the edge of the wing, looking out to the scene of a rocky mountain pass. Soon the warrior-maiden Brünnhilda would make an appearance with her famous battle cry. She allowed the anticpaptory energy of the audience to fill her body. The trills of the high strings and upward rushing passes in the woodwinds introduced Brünnhilda. Right on cue, Sophia made her entrance and struck a pose. She took a deep breath, preparing to hit the opening notes of her battle call. But as she opened her mouth to sing, nothing came out. Caught off guard, Sophia cleared her throat and tried again. Nothing. Horrified, she glanced around, as if seeking help, her body hot and shaky with shame. Across the stage in the wings, Sophia could see Judith Deal, her understudy and rival, watching. The other singer was clad in a similar costume to Sophia’s for her role as the valkerie Gerhilde. A triumphant expression crossed her face. Warwick Canfield-Pendegast, owner of the theatre, stood next to Judith, his face contorted in fury. He clenched his chubby hands. A wave of dizziness swept through Sophia. The stage lights dimmed. Her knees buckled. As she crumpled to the ground, one final thought followed her into the darkness. I’ve just lost my position as prima dona of the Canfield-Pendegast Opera Company.”

“You want it back?" She shook her head. "Keep it." Keep me. "Will do," he said, walking around the bike. Walking straight up to her without blinking. "Do you still have mine?" "Of course," she said. "In a box. Inside another box." His fingers came up too her face and wiped new tears away as she blinked them free. "And if I wanted it back?" he said so softly she barely heard it. "Not a chance in hell," she whispered. A smile spread slowly across his lips. "That's my girl.”

“I miss your voice because it is a symphony; your scent because it is a treasure; your smile because it is a jewel; your hug because it is a masterpiece; and your kiss because it is a miracle.”

“When two souls are one, they hear each other, even in silence.”

“Would the hand of Providence permit such an irony of bleakness to prevail?...If so, to what purpose and end result?...Regardless of the answers, she now found herself in an imperfect union, with an imperfect family. They had real flaws and a myriad of complex emotions... She had little choice but to adjust accordingly if they were each to survive within it.”

“Love is my favorite drug; I overdose on it regularly.”

“When you hear love calling you, don’t pretend to be deaf.”

“Hmmm,” hummed Rick. “Now isn’t this pleasant?” With a sigh, he softly said, “’Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven, blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels.’” “That’s beautiful,” whispered Amelia as if not wanting to ruin the pleasant mood he had just created. “Henry Wadsworth Longfellow… “Have you ever heard of the constellation: Berenice’s Hair?”… “It’s named after an Egyptian queen. Berenice and Ptolemy were newlyweds when he went off to war. She was worried about him so she made a deal with the goddess of love to protect her husband. In order to save his life, Berenice was supposed to cut off her long golden hair, which she was very proud of. She felt it was her crowning glory, but she was willing to sacrifice anything for the man she loved. The goddess was so pleased with her newly acquired treasure that she took it up to heaven.”

“Rick smiled as he grabbed the fat round toad from her back. “Got it.” Amelia breathed a sigh of relief when she saw what it was. “Oh. Just a frog.” “Correction. Toad,” said Mr. Witherbee. “There’s a difference. I guess Herman was just taking a swim and you were in his way.” Rick raised his brow. “You named him?” “You bet.” When Amelia looked at the toad, she smiled. “He’s cute. Can I keep him?” She was just joking around, but it made Rick laugh. “Sorry, missy,” said Mr. Witherbee. “No can do! He eats all the gnats and mosquitoes on this here pond, not to mention all the flies that can really get on a person’s nerves. He’s been my friend here for at least ten years.” Amelia raised her brow. “They can live that long?” “Hey, they can live up to fifteen years if taken good care of.” He smiled. “And I take very good care of Herman.”… Rick placed the toad on a rock. He then warned the little fellow, “Now you better watch out because some girl just might give you a kiss and you’ll turn into a prince.” Amelia laughed. “You’ve got that all wrong. It’s a frog that turns into a prince. Not a toad.”

“For one, Darcy had started out with great contempt for Lizzy and the expectation of an arranged marriage to someone else. Secondly, but of greater importance than those mindful lessons learned from entirely plausible fiction, she was armed with the truth that she had the Lord on her side. She must brave on and hope for the best in spite of how things appeared.”

“Eve was good, he conceded, adding the file he’d just finished to the growing stack on the floor at his feet. Given the proper education and training, she could be great. He stretched the kinks out of limbs stiffened from too much time spent in one position. Why didn’t she do more with her talent? He started to ask her, then realized she was sound asleep, curled up in the overstuffed chair. The sun no longer shone through the front window, and his stomach told him it was getting close to lunchtime, but she looked so adorable curled up with her hands under her cheek and her tanned knees against her chest that Matt was in no hurry to leave.”

“Women of the west are determined for life to be different and better for us out here,” Jill pointed out. “It takes some time for newcomers to catch on to what it means to us to carve out a new life here in this wilderness. Think how long it has taken for Honey River Canyon to grow. When we arrived, barely anything was here.” —Jillian Hayes, "Sparrow’s Hope" by Lisa M. Prysock.”

“I shall cherish you, Mellonyfulgria, and protect you with all my strength. My heart, my body, my spear, shall be yours alone.” His declaration robs me of words. If it had come from Garrett’s lips, I would have thought it a bunch of bluster and flowery language, and I’d have smiled and nodded and not believed a bit of it. But every time Pelayo speaks, now especially, a sweet sort of earnestness pours from him. I find that I believe every single thing he promises. It’s incredible. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine anyone would say such a thing to me and mean it.”

“The nearest arched window poured its soft light over him, allowing me to see every inch. Dressed smartly in black loafers and slacks, he wore a thigh-length, black coat. He'd brushed his golden hair back, tucked behind his ears, and his cheeks looked flushed, no doubt due to the bitter, evening air. He looks like an angel in the winter snow. The thought made me growl in irritation. "Hello, Magpie." I couldn't move. "Adrian.”

“If you kiss her cheeks, she is your friend; if you kiss her lips, she is your lover; if you kiss her heart, she is your soul mate.”

“This is what we call a shamrock. It has three leaves. Do you know what it represents?" "Luck? Amelia answered. Lee smiled. "That's what everyone says." Rick shrugged. "Well, I know it's Ireland's emblem." Lee shook his head and said earnestly, "It's much more than that. It represents our religion... who we are. When St. Patrick was trying to teach Christianity here in Ireland, he used this shamrock as an example." Lee pointed to each leaf and said, "This is the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost...." Rick still held the clover in his hand. He looked at it and twirled it between his fingers as he said, "I'm calling this the Shamrock Case from now on. I love what it represents.”

“He shook his head. “Your mouth is going to get you into trouble someday,” he said, his gaze involuntarily lowering to her lips. She casually said, “Yeah, my dad used to tell me that.” But those weird emotions began to course through him again. Nowhere near love, but more than like, his affection for her combined with sexual responses and created one hell of a reaction in his body. “Are you staring at me again?” “You’re awfully hard not to notice.”

“If you choose money over love, you will always be poor.”