If you can capture a woman’s imagination, then you will have her. But imagination is a strange creature. It needs…
Oh no. Don’t smile. You’ll kill me. I stop breathing when you smile.
Oh no. Don’t smile. You’ll kill me. I stop breathing when you smile.
He dug so deeply into her sentiments that in search of interest he found love, because by trying to make her love him he ended up falling in love with her. Petra Cotes, for her part, loved him more and more as she felt his love increasing, and that was how in the ripeness of autumn she began to believe once more in the youthful superstition that poverty was the servitude of love. Both looked back then on the wild revelry, the gaudy wealth, and the unbridled fornication as an annoyance and they lamented that it had cost them so much of their lives to find the paradise of shared solitude. Madly in love after so many years of sterile complicity, they enjoyed the miracle of living each other as much at the table as in bed, and they grew to be so happy that even when they were two worn-out people they kept on blooming like little children and playing together like dogs.
He dug so deeply into her sentiments that in search of interest he found love, because by trying to make…
Moments, when lost, can’t be found again. They’re just gone.
Moments, when lost, can’t be found again. They’re just gone.
She wanted something else, something different, something more. Passion and romance, perhaps, or maybe quiet conversations in candlelit rooms, or perhaps something as simple as not being second.
She wanted something else, something different, something more. Passion and romance, perhaps, or maybe quiet conversations in candlelit rooms, or…
It’s bullshit to think of friendship and romance as being different. They’re not. They’re just variations of the same love. Variations of the same desire to be close.
It’s bullshit to think of friendship and romance as being different. They’re not. They’re just variations of the same love.…
I belong to my beloved, and my beloved is mine.
I belong to my beloved, and my beloved is mine.
Romance is thinking about your significant other, when you are supposed to be thinking about something else.
Romance is thinking about your significant other, when you are supposed to be thinking about something else.
I am not an angel,’ I asserted; ‘and I will not be one till I die: I will be myself. Mr. Rochester, you must neither expect nor exact anything celestial of me – for you will not get it, any more than I shall get it of you: which I do not at all anticipate.
I am not an angel,’ I asserted; ‘and I will not be one till I die: I will be myself.…
Romance is the glamour which turns the dust of everyday life into a golden haze.
Romance is the glamour which turns the dust of everyday life into a golden haze.
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