I know what it’s like to pine away for that summer romance you just can’t get back.
The wish of peeking at women showering is also a kind of romance.
Love is a reality which is born in the fairy region of romance.
Youth cannot imagine romance apart from youth.
It’s like all my life I’ve been this tower standing at the edge of the ocean for some obscure purpose, and only now, almost eighteen years in, has someone thought to flip the switch that reveals that I’m not a tower at all. I’m a lighthouse. It’s like waking up. I am incandescent.
And they were quiet but their blood and nerves and butterflies were not – they were rampantly alive, rushing and thrumming in a wild and perfect melody, matched note for note.
Around Mik, my powers desert me. I lose basic motor function, like my brain focuses all neural activity on my lips and shifts into kiss preparedness mode way too early, to the detriment of things like speech, and walking.
What a lovely display of personhood. He’s like a good book cover that grabs your gaze. Read me. I’m fun but smart. You won’t be able to put me down.
There’s a lot of sensuality that I associate with travel. And that’s romance.
I don’t like to search too much. I find it is easier when romance finds you.
Yes, romance has found it’s way into my heart in the past.
People go on quarrelling and fancying this and that, and thinking that the world is full of romance and poetry. When they get married they know better.
Romance is very pretty in novels, but the romance of a life is always a melancholy matter. They are most happy who have no story to tell.
There was no romance about the mosquitos, however.
You changed my life. You changed my ways. I don’t even recognize myself these days. It must be a reflection of you, only you.
I had liked him for all the wrong reasons.
That music and the lyrical aspects of Razorblade Romance is so personal to me that, now with me being grown up a bit and meeting new people and doing new things, it makes me look at the same things I was writing about back in the day through a different colored lens.
The mist was so challenging and the winds hit me, definitely more than I expected. It was definitely those winds, you can’t re-enact them, you can’t recreate them. Then my forearms started to tense up and you feel like running.
I am the highway and a peregrine and all the sails that ever went to sea.
History is a romance that is believed; romance, a history that is not believed.