#hum

... far be it from a French man to interfere with love. ↗

— E.A. Bucchianeri

#french #french-men #french-people #love #love-story

She’d rather make love to him then watch any movie. “We don’t have to. Did I do something wrong?” That made him turn to her. “Of course not.” “Oh. Then don’t you want to…” She trailed off, a blush rising. “Are you kidding me? More than anything.” His expression softened. “But, Maira, I don’t want to rush you, make you do something you aren’t ready for.” She stared at him. He was so pretty. Was he also stone-cold stupid? How could he think she wasn’t ready for it? She’d already thrown herself at him. Twice now, if he counted the kitchen disaster. ↗

— Alisha Rai

#romance #love

Jasmine believes in a prophecy that says she is destined to love a man named Josh Toby. Okay, fine. He could believe that. Hell, he had friends who believed carbohydrates were the work of the devil. True love made sense at least. ↗

— Diana Holquist

#prophecy #true-love #love

Alaythia smiled sympathetically. "The Coast of the Dead. Sounds lovely, doesn't it?" Simon tried to smile back. "Someone in a good mood named that place. ↗

— Jason Hightman

#love

They do say money is the root of all evil." I thought that was supposed to be the love of money." There's neat for you. 'Tis them without it that loves it best. ↗

— Jamie O'Neill

#money #love

I cringed as the band oozed into the next chord. If notes were cars, I think there was a D major under the wreckage. ↗

— Mary Hughes

#music #love

The one that sang, old Janine, was always whispering into the g***** microphone before she sang. She'd say, 'And now we like to geeve you our impression of Vooly Voo Fransay. Eet ees the story of leetle Fransh girl who comes to a beeg ceety, just like New York, and falls een love wees a leetle boy from Brookleen. We hope you like eet.' Then, when she was all done whispering and being cute as hell, she'd sing some dopey song, half in English and half in French, and drive all the phonies in the place mad with joy. ↗

— J.D. Salinger

#jd-salinger #love

All womankind, from the highest to the lowest love jokes; the difficulty is to know how they choose to have them cut; and there is no knowing that, but by trying, as we do with our artillery in the field, by raising or letting down their breeches, till we hit the mark. ↗

— Laurence Sterne

#vulgarity #love

Ich hatte eine sehr exakte Vorstellung davon, was ich gerade jetzt von diesem ansehnlichen Fremden verlangt hätte. Und dabei wäre seiner angeblich so geschickten Zunge definitiv eine der Hauptrollen zugefallen. ↗

— Emilia Polo

#sexuality #sexy-humor #love

After the brightness of the morning, the interior of the pavilion seemed cool and dim. Stannis seated himself on a plain wooden camp stool and waved Davos to another. “One day I may make you a lord, smuggler. If only to irk Celtigar and Florent. You will not thank me, though. It will mean you must suffer through these councils, and feign interest in the braying of mules.” “Why do you have them, if they serve no purpose?” “The mules love the sound of their own braying, why else? And I need them to haul my cart. ↗

— George R.R. Martin

#love