#roman

If death is your lover, you don't got to be afraid ever that he will ever leave you ↗

— Francesca Lia Block

#death

People get stupid when they're in love; people want what they can't have; and the years between ages twelve and eighteen always, always suck. ↗

— Claudia Gray

#age

In Paris, women were not considered interesting until they were middle-aged. The Mist of Montmartre ↗

— Peggy Kopman-Owens

#paris #romance #age

You’re nothing but an aging sad cliché and I don’t want any part of it anymore. You’ll wind up right here, in a room just like this, twenty years from now paying for what I’ve been giving you for free from someone even younger than I am right now. Only you’ll be twenty years older and nothing more than a broken down image of the man you used to be. Good luck with that. ↗

— Ryan Field

#jim-darling #m-m-romance #age

The nineteenth century was the Age of Romanticism; for the first time in history, man stopped thinking of himself as an animal or a slave, and saw himself as a potential god. All of the cries of revolt against 'God' - De Sade, Byron's "Manfred", Schiller's "Robbers", Goethe's "Faust", Hoffmann's mad geniuses - are expressions of this new spirit. Is this why the 'spirits' decided to make a planned and consistent effort at 'communication'? It was the right moment. Man was beginning to understand himself. ↗

— Colin Wilson

#man #nineteenth-century #romanticism #spirit #age

I didn’t know then that young girls were a sort of poison, infectious to the man of age; and that men of age justly take woman of age to cure themselves of the diseases of youth. ↗

— Roman Payne

#feminity #girls #life-experience #life-phases #manhood

The belle is a product of the Deep South, which is a product of the nineteenth century and the Age of Romanticism. Virginia is a product of the eighteenth century. It's impossible to extract a belle from the Age of Reason. ↗

— Florence King

#age-of-romanticism #southern-belle #virginia #age

But you know as well as I do that anger won’t solve anything.” “I beg to differ,” he shrugged. “Anger can be quite rewarding…at least for those of us who have the option of blasting our enemies to oblivion. ↗

— M.A. George

#enemies #humor #paranormal-romance #sarcastic-humor #anger

Willow nestled against him. He smoothed her long hair down the back of her T-shirt, feeling its softness. In a few moments she fell asleep again, her breathing warm and regular against his chest. Alex kissed her head, his arms tightening around her. As he drifted back to sleep himself, he saw a brief flash of the thousands of angels streaming in, but right then it seemed distant, almost unimportant. The only thing that mattered was that he was lying in a bed holding Willow, their bare legs entwined. It was all he wanted to do for the rest of his life. ↗

— L.A. Weatherly

#life

I'm not some possession." I pushed at his chest once more. "No, you're not." His mouth returned to mine. "You are my wife." I continued to struggle with the mass of him. He pulled his head back. "You're the only woman I've loved since I lost my mother and sister." His eyes intent on mine. Torn by my anger and his admission, I stopped protesting. His mouth moved against my neck and his body pressed into mine. "I have loved you for so long. ↗

— Saewod Tice

#love #romance #anger