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Young Adult Romance Quotes

Browse 272 quotes about Young Adult Romance.

Young Adult Romance Quotes

“Do you really think that Tutankhamen would have taken a chance on some pale girl with pretty eyes had you not been the priestess of Anubis?” “You did.” The words fall out of me. “What?” I look up at him. “You took a chance on me.” I sit up, breath heavy in my throat. “When I was nothing but a dead, lost thing.”

“Ahhh." Anubis narrows his eyes at me. “I’ve given you inspiration. Now you’re thinking about bringing the lightbulb to ancient Egypt. It would be a hit––all those dark tombs.” You. I was thinking about you. His eyebrows rise. “Huh? Me?” Fluorine uranium carbon potassium. I said that out loud. "I mean," I stutter, "I was thinking about…unimolecular reactions.”

“I could have killed you,” I snarl. “You think you can become a god. You always meddle and change and create. No, that is not the way. What is shall always be. What is known shall always stand.” “Then you’ve never been in a laboratory!”

“He stares blankly, then leaves the room like a ghost—never truly here. I gaze at the doorway. I do not know if he means for me to follow him. It’s a choice then. And I realize that this is no choice at all, but rather a sentence. By love or by evil, somehow I am bound to Tutankhamen. It’s not a choice any more if I will follow him, but a question of what I will do when I catch him.”

“From beneath the folds of his robes, he reveals a small steel dagger. “You have tempted fate so many times already and still yield to it. Time for history to rewrite itself. Time for Tutankhamen to have a new ending.” Aten holds the hilt out to me. I stare at the dagger. The hilt is bronze, carved with sun discs that glow when they catch the sun. “What do you want me to do with that?” Aten smiles a white, gaping grin. “Kill Tutankhamen and carve out his heart.”

“If I wasn't discovering something, if I wasn't studying, well then, what was I doing? I know I wouldn’t be happy unless I made a difference. So what was the happiness of a moment worth against the happiness of my life?" I let out a breathy laugh and squeeze his hand. "I guess it doesn't matter now.” I stare out over camp, but a glassy sadness blurs my vision. “Have you ever wanted something so much that everything else in the world seemed so small?" He tilts his head toward me, narrowing his eyes. "I'm beginning to.”

“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.”

“He was acting like our kiss had broken him, and his reaction was breaking me.”

“I leaned down and looked at his handsome face. I wanted to kiss him in a way that would remain soft and true on his lips, all the while help him from escaping the overwhelming sense of sadnes that he felt. I pressed forward and kissed him, tasting the saltiness of fish against his lips, and the disappointment that he held so very deeply inside. I kissed him long and wide, yet limp and yielding, pulling myself away from reality to only drown in the fantasy of our love. I touched his mouth in such a loving way, that not even his incapability to reach into my soul, could tear us away from exchanging such romance. He immediately gave into the kiss, his sadness slowly giving way to the moment that we so intimately shared. It amazed me what a merman could do, even when flowing tears streamed down his face. Through the bridge of kissing, I had healed him, and he had healed me in return.”

“Lonely. My heart grips as the word crosses my mind. So many different feelings come with the word, not just loneliness. The word went beyond its definition. Loneliness has a deeper meaning to those who truly know what it means to be alone.”

“He stares at me—taking me in—with his lips slightly parted. I struggle to hold myself in place as we gawk at each other. I want so desperately to run, but something is holding me back, keeping me in place.”

“One of his hands move away from my face to flatten against my back, pulling me closer to him as he deepens the kiss. He parts my lips under his as my mind seems to sign quietly in content. I kiss him back as fiercely as he kisses me, unable to control the infatuation that rushes through me - feeling almost like fireworks. Not so careful anymore. Little shivers of urgency shoot through me. I push off the window, pressing closer to him. The rush of sensation that is coursing through me feels like I've drunk a gallon of coffee. It feels like an electric buzz is flooding between us.”

“He drinks his coffee tentatively, glancing at me every few seconds, watching me. Every time he glances in my direction, I quickly turn away though he obviously knows I'm watching him. I know he's wondering why I'm staring at him, but he doesn't ask. I finally take a sip of coffee, set the mug back on the table, and voice what's on my mind, "I want to draw you.”

“I'm being pulled under - father and farther from the surface. My lungs continue to scream for air. Panic is building inside me, threatening to combust. I can't break free. Help! I can't break free! I open my mouth to scream.”

“Night has settled over Paris. The streets have cleared of the crowds, and the city has been lit up. I set my book down, deciding to go for a walk. The Eiffel Tower is only a few blocks away. Now that there aren't many people out, I can walk there without having to fight my way through mobs of gawking tourists.”

“He smirks, shaking his head and letting his eyes wander. I watch him carefully, wondering what I can say to get him to leave. “I’m not leaving until you answer some questions. Plus, I’m holding your sketchbook hostage, so you might want to cooperate.” I raise an eyebrow at him. I guess there isn’t much I can say. “This isn’t a hostage negotiation.” He chuckles half-heartedly as his eyes take me in, almost sizing me up. “I guess I should introduce myself.” He holds a hand out for me to shake. “I’m Nathan.” I stare at his hand for a moment. “Taylor,” I reply, meeting his eyes again without taking his hand. He lets his hand fall back to his side. “At least I got you to say something non-hostile.” “I haven’t been hostile,” I object. His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, haven’t you?” “Why don’t you leave me alone?” I snap. “Leave and don’t come back.” I move passed him, heading for my apartment. He can’t follow and annoy me if I lock the door. “Where are you going?” he demands. I look back over my shoulder and roll my eyes at him, indicating the answer should be obvious: anywhere he isn’t. Once inside, I slam the door behind me. “That was totally not hostile!” he calls after me, sarcastically. I quickly head for my bedroom door, slamming it, too.”

“It feels like someone is gripping my heart and twisting it. It feels like I can't breathe. I shut my eyes tightly against the memory that is threatening to surface. I can't breathe. Can't breathe. Can't breathe!”

“I grab the nearest lamppost when my knees threaten to give out, panting for breath as the words rip through me”

“Every gesture and every look he gives me takes me by surprise and causes my heart to stutter.”

“I head in the direction of the Eiffel Tower when I exit the alley, relieved to be out of the dark.”

“I take in all the colorful locks that line the bridge. Each one told a story. Each lock represented a relationship that was once special, whether it ended or turned into true happiness. The locks represented a past, present, and a possible future.”

“When we step onto the bridge, Nathan turns and spreads his arms out wide. ‘Welcome to Pont des Arts, a.k.a. The Lock Bridge.”

“I freeze, my feet suddenly glued to the floor. It takes me a minute to gather the courage to turn around, but when I do, I immediately wish I hadn't. The boy is standing in the doorway at the end of the hall. Why is he here again? I barely allow myself time to ask the question before I move. Panicked, I turn and run back downstairs as fast as I can. "Hey! Wait!" he calls after me. I don't stop.”

“The boy took my sketchbook.”