love

We thought everything would be forgotten, but I still remember yourclaws running down my back.I wonder if you still think about us,the way I do.How our legs would crash into each other in the middle of the night, and how we endedup creating the moon in the confines of our beds.

Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action.-Ian Fleming

I write about romance and passion to savour love twice, in the moment and in retrospect.

True happiness is when the love that is within us finds expression in external activities.

No human should mislead another by promising them something they know to be untrue.

I write romance and passion to savour love twice, in the moment and in retrospect.

One could be happy not only without love, but despite it.

Falling in love with a writer is a dangerous thing, isn't it? The only thing you get out of it sometimes is immortality.

A writer needs to ingest love to be passionate. Passion is a metabolite of love, and good writing is an active metabolite of passion.

If you__e dating a writer and they don__ write about you _ whether it__ good or bad _ then they don__ love you. They just don__. Writers fall in love with the people we find inspiring.

I was always aware that Jack loved women not only for their bodies but for the stories that came into being as they interacted with him--they were part of his "road," the infinite range of experience that always had to remain open to fuel his work.

Nothing on earth hurts my soul deeper than conditional love.

His hand lay across my stomach as he slept soundly. I entwined my fingers with his and breathed through the warmth that seeped through my chest. Such a simple, sweet thing to do, yet holding hands in bed was incredibly intimate.

There is lust and then there is love. They are related, but still very different things. To indulge in one requires little but honeyed speech and a change of clothes; to obtain the other, by contrast, a man must give up his rib. In return, his woman will undo the sin of Eve, and bring him back into Paradise.

Love is benign only when it gets what it wants. Otherwise love can be far more destructive than mindless sex.

A week feels like a year when you__e seventeen and in love. A twenty minute drive might as well be an ocean. But we were together again and the whole world was rejoicing, even the gravel crunched melodiously under our feet as we danced onward through the night.

As Venus within Eros does not really aim at pleasure, so Eros does not aim at happiness. We may think he does, but when he is brought to the test it proves otherwise... For it is the very mark of Eros that when he is in us we had rather share unhappiness with the Beloved than be happy on any other terms.

I think it's incomparably sweet when someone writes something for you.. even if it doesn't rhyme or even if it isn't very amorous.. even two lines of hatred written for you acknowledges the fact that someone spent a little of his time thinking about you.