Rachel Cohn Quotes

The Beatles, they had it all figured out, okay? "I Want to Hold Your Hand." The first single. It's effing brilliant, right?... That's what everybody wants, Nicky. They don't want a twenty-four-hour hump sesh, they don't want to be married to you for a hundred years. They just want to hold your hand.

What I felt is the same kind of love I felt between Waylon and his audience. And that's what I miss.

All I wanted was just what everybody else wants, you know, to be loved.

I think every great show has that kind of romance that people just kind of yearn for.

I have loved eight women in my life. I remember every woman's face.

Once you fall for someone, their smell can be a powerful thing. Women will wear their boyfriends' T-shirts, and throughout tales in history men have held on to their lover's handkerchief.

Every time I read to her, it was like I was courting her, because sometimes, just sometimes, she would fall in love with me again, just like she had a long time ago. And that's the most wonderful feeling in the world. How many people are ever given that chance? To have someone you love fall in love with you over and over?

I believe that the way to a man's heart is not through his stomach. It's a little further south.

They haven't made love for years but sleep holding hands

I'll take lying in your arms tonight over and above any love I've known. Memories may find me, but they'll always be behind me. I'll take today over yesterday, anyday.

All I want is moonlight, with you there inside of me, all night, doing it again and again. You know I want you so bad.

When I see ya baby girl, I miss feelin on ya. I miss everything that's real about ya and that's everything about ya, that's just how I feel about ya

I miss you already I don’t need to leave. I can stay. . . . Mmmm.

I envy the music lovers hear. I see them walking hand in hand, standing close to each other in a queue at a theater or subway station, heads touching while they sit on a park bench, and I ache to hear the song that plays between them: The stirring chords of romance's first bloom, the stately airs that whisper between a couple long in love. You can see it in the way they look at each other... you can almost hear it. Almost, but not quite, because the music belongs to them and all you can have of it is a vague echo that rises up from the bittersweet murmur and shuffle of your own memories.

Your lips and mine, two sips of wine, memories are made of this.

Remembrance of our kiss brings not your lips nor mine to mind. The flesh can only envy consumption so divine.

I dust [your photo] carefully every morning, for to do so gives me the pleasant feeling that I'm caressing you as in the old days. I even touch your nose with mine to recapture the electric current that used to flush through my blood whenever I did so.

I want to have the memories of my time with you to keep me warm.

Finally he closed the distance between us and kissed me - a sweet, gentle kiss that held within it every single one of the thousand days I'd loved him as my everything, long after I'd begun to love him as a friend.

I was in the back of the car with my girlfriend, the Rascals came on the radio and I realized their song was sexier than the sex I was trying to have.

I'd call it love if love didn't take so many years but lust too is a jewel.

Sweeter than the stolen kiss Are the granted kisses

Love—the desire to love and be loved, to hold and be held, to give love even if your experience as a recipient has been compromised or incomplete—is the constant on the continuum of hunger, it's what links the anorexic to the garden-variety dieter, it's the persistent pulse of need and yearning behind the reach for food, for sex, for something.

If I use the word romance, whether it's my wife or not, it does not mean sex. We can use the word sex when sex is there.