Richelle Mead Quotes

Real love is the love that sometimes arises after sensual pleasure: if it does, it is immortal; the other kind inevitably goes stale, for it lies in mere fantasy.

His heart danced upon her movements like a cork upon a tide. He heard what her eyes said to him from beneath their cowl and knew that in some dim past, whether in life or revery, he had heard their tale before.

When I found somebody who I fell in love with, it made me feel different than I felt the rest of the day. It was electrifying.

While they danced they came over them the weariness with the world, the melancholy, the pity one for the other, which is the exultation of love.

Love is friendship that has caught fire . . .

It's strong, Ian. The way she feels about you is something else. She loves this world, but so much of the reason she couldn't leave was really you. She thinks of you as her anchor. You gave her a reason to finally stay in one place after a lifetime of wandering.

Ordinary love is mere animal attraction. Otherwise why is the distinction between the sexes? If one kneels before an image, it is dreadful idolatry; but if one kneels before husband or wife, it is quite permissible!

Your kisses lift me higher...like the sweet song of a choir. You light my morning sky, with burning love.

I don't think relationships are all about sex, but it's definitely about passion and that feeling of "I want you now." I love that romantic side of it.

Do you remember the first time we made love?" He touched his lips to hers as he said it. "We rode up in the elevator like this and couldn't keep our hands off each other, couldn't get to each other quick enough. I was mad for you. I wanted you more than I wanted to keep breathing. I still do." He deepened the kiss as the elevator doors opened. "It's never going to change.

Whatever 'in love' means.

Caleb," I say, "I love you." His eyes gleam with tear as he says, "I love you, too, Beatrice.

When you're talking about the thing that is most important to someone, they're liable to feel something strong.

Lovers have known sometimes what saints have not known.

He who shall never be divided from me kissed my mouth all trembling.

He was beside me then, his arms wrapped around me, holding me tightly. "I'm not crazy," I whispered. "I know." Believe it or not, that's the most romantic thing Zachary Goode ever told me. And I kind of loved him for it.

Love it, love it and the beat and beating heart, love that too. More than eyes or feet. More than lungs that have yet to draw free air. More than your life-holding womb and your life-giving private parts, hear me now, love your heart. For this is the prize.

So much for the fruits of love. Love? What's love? Sex, ah, that's another thing. Love has babies: sex has abortions.

I encounter millions of bodies in my life; of these millions, I may desire some hundreds; but of these hundreds, I love only one.

I love my mother, but there has been, ever since my boyhood, a sort of coldness of intercourse between us, such as is apt to come between people of strong feelings.

They kissed for the first time then in the cold spring rain, though neither one of them now knew that it was raining. Tristran's heart pounded in his chest as if it was not big enough to contain all the joy that it held. He opened his eyes as he kissed the star. Her sky-blue eyes stared back into his, and in her eyes he could see no parting from her.

But what I hope most of all is that you understand what I mean when I tell you that even though I do not know you, and even though I may never meet you, laugh with you, cry with you, or kiss you. I love you. With all my heart, I love you.

I see love in black and white. Passion in shades of “gris”. But when it comes to you and I, color is all I see.