#mm

First love is very sweet, but we always lose them, due they come when we are stupid immature children ↗

— M.F. Moonzajer

#immature #love

How much do you love me?" She drew in a breath and let it out. "Too much." "Too much is just enough for this man." "And do you love me?" she whispered. "I have always loved you. Always. You know that. ↗

— Delilah Marvelle

#love #relationships #love

Love grows and wanes, but honor, duty, and commitment, those things are constant and stable. They define who you are. ↗

— Richelle E. Goodrich

#duty #honor #ian #love #reputation

Sometimes I think that if I had to choose between an ear of corn or making love to a woman, I'd choose the corn. Not that I wouldn't love to have a final roll in the hay - I am a man yet, and something never die - but the thought of those sweet kernels bursting between my teeth sure sets my mouth to watering. It's fantasy, I know that. Neither will happen. I just like to weight the options, as though I were standing in front of Solomon: a final roll in the hay or an ear of corn. What a wonderful dilemma. Sometimes I substitute an apple for the corn. ↗

— Sara Gruen

#love

If I didn't love so damn hard I wouldn't have someone to risk my life for. ↗

— Leslie Lee Sanders

#dystopian-fiction #erotic-romance #gay-romance #mm #post-apocalyptic

... and it seemed to her that time stopped, that her body melted into his as if she were without nerve or bone or will, and his kiss was like fire and ice on her lips. ↗

— Marion Zimmer Bradley

#arthurian #love #marion-zimmer-bradley #love

Tommy had completely forgotten that he was horny. He had always been horny, and had accepted that he always would be horny. So when Jody sat down across from him and the tsunami of hormones washed over him, he was quite shocked that he had ever forgotten. ↗

— Christopher Moore

#jody #tommy #love

There is safety in reserve, but no attraction. One cannot love a reserved person. ↗

— Jane Austen

#emma #reserved #love

He made a commitment, Eena.” “And you believe this commitment,” she spoke the word detestably, “is more important than true love?” “Yes.” “No,” she stubbornly disagreed. “Yes,” Ian insisted as he put his finger to her lips, preventing her from arguing any further. “Love grows and wanes, Eena, but honor, duty, and commitment, those things are constant and stable. They define who you are.” “They define who you are?” she repeated. “You mean miserable?” “Content,” he retorted. “Lonely,” she argued. “Faithful,” he insisted, his eyes widening to emphasize the importance of the word. “Empty, regretful, and…” “Hopeful,” Ian whispered in her ear. This word caught her off guard. At present, hope was probably all any of them could cling to. ↗

— Richelle E. Goodrich

#eena #honor #ian #love #richelle

What are you afraid of then?' She pondered. He had already noticed that it was her hands which indicated what she was thinking of quite as much as her face and now he watched as she cupped them, making them ready to receive her thoughts. 'Not being able to see, I think,' she said. 'Being blind, you mean?' 'No, not that. That would be terrible hard but Homer managed it and our blind piano tuner is one of the serenest people I know. I mean ... not seeing because you're obsessed by something that blots out the world. Some sort of mania of belief. Or passion. That awful kind of love that makes leaves and birds and cherry blossom invisible because it's not the face on some man. ↗

— Eva Ibbotson

#eva-ibbotson #love #love