But it is just two lovers, holding hands and in a hurry to reach their car, their locked hands a starfish leaping through the dark.
Kris Bolin: He'd take off his shorts and I'd take off my bikini and we'd fuck underwater in front of the entire senior class on shore. They just thought that we were two lovers embracing. We could do that now. In front of Roger, Sara... and noone would know.
Finn: Young lovers seek perfection. Old lovers learn the art of sewing shreds together and of seeing beauty in a multiplicity of patches.
Lovers and madmen have such seething brains Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends.
Women writers make for rewarding (and efficient) lovers. They are clever liars to fathers and husbands; yet they never hold their tongues too long, nor keep ardent typing fingers still.
Better not to invent her in her absence. Better to wait until she's actually here. Then he can make her up as she goes along.
Candy Darling: I have always found that socially unacceptable people make the best lovers because they are more sensitive.
Katharine Clifton: My darling. I'm waiting for you. How long is the day in the dark? Or a week? The fire is gone, and I'm horribly cold. I really should drag myself outside but then there'd be the sun. I'm afraid I waste the light on the paintings, not writing these words. We die. We die rich with lovers and tribes, tastes we have swallowed, bodies we've entered and swum up like rivers. Fears we've hidden in - like this wretched cave. I want all this marked on my body. Where the real countries are. Not boundaries drawn on maps with the names of powerful men. I know you'll come carry me out to the Palace of Winds. That's what I've wanted: to walk in such a place with you. With friends, on an earth without maps. The lamp has gone out and I'm writing in the darkness.
Was I bitter? Absolutely. Hurt? You bet your sweet ass I was hurt. Who doesn't feel a part of their heart break at rejection. You ask yourself every question you can think of, what, why, how come, and then your sadness turns to anger. That's my favorite part. It drives me, feeds me, and makes one hell of a story.
Anchorwoman: Two households, both alike in dignity. In Fair Verona where we lay our scene. From ancient grudge break to new mutiny. Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes, a pair of star-crossed lovers take their life.
Thomas Janes: Though lovers shall be lost, love shall not.
Barkis Bittern: [disrupting the wedding] Oh, how touching. I always cry at weddings. Finally, our two young lovers are together at last. Surely now they can live happily ever after? But you forget... Barkis Bittern: [snatches Victoria] She's still my wife! And I'm not leaving here empty handed!
Janet Mayes: [while playing basketball] This is the kind of radical circumstance that could have seriously upped Shaq's free throw percentages. I mean, you take a man, you send ship him off to Riyadh. No cell phones, no girls, no booze. Nothing but being locked in a gym. He could have been shooting, what, seventy, eighty percent? Lakers would still be together. Kobe and Shaq, lovers forever. Ronald Fleury: I don't know about that part. Kobe's a hater.
She had no need to ask why he had come. She knew as certainly as if he had told her that he was here to be where she was.
Truman Hope: [performing in a bad play] Attend the tale of lovers three, of sisters twain, and a rogue - that's me. Agnes Orbison: [praying] Father... I'm angry. I've been angry for a long time. Amen.
A man when he is making up to anybody can be cordial and gallant and full of little attentions and altogether charming. But when a man is really in love he can't help looking like a sheep.
Jacob Kell: [speaking to Connor MacLeod] Look back at the endless travesties of your life, and you'll see me, always there waiting in the shadows. When friends and lovers are wiped from your sight, I'm there. When those you cherish die abruptly and for no reason, I'm there for you.
Almásy: New lovers are nervous and tender, but smash everything. For the heart is an organ of fire.
The greatest feminists have also been the greatest lovers. I'm thinking not only of Mary Wollstonecraft and her daughter Mary Shelley, but of Anais Nin, Edna St. Vincent Millay, and of course Sappho. You cannot divide creative juices from human juices. And as long as juicy women are equated with bad women, we will err on the side of being bad.
Maybe we were together in another life...in a parallel universe, maybe our paths are not supposed to cross twice, maybe your arms are not supposed to go around me. I hear about you now & then, I wonder where you are & how you feel. Sometimes I walk by & I look up to your balcony, just to make sure you were real-just to make sure that I can still feel you...it appears to me that Destiny Rules...
They slept profoundly, desperately, greedily, as though for the last time, as though they had been condemned to stay awake forever and had to drink in all the sleep in the world during these last hours.
What made you fall in love with a prostitute?
The first kiss can be as terrifying as the last.
I want morning and noon and nightfall with you. I want your tears, your smiles, your kisses...the smell of your hair, the taste of your skin, the touch of your breath on my face. I want to see you in the final hour of my life...to lie in your arms as I take my last breath.
When two people are in love, they are parrallel lines. That intersect. Together but seperate. Infinity.
...which recall(s) a moment in time when raw excess made them a casual aristocracy, apart from the rest of the world.
...kids marked by the special thinness that one has only once, the transparent thinness of early maturity, when, without knowing it, you are immortal. And completely permeable. When you can walk indifferently down the street with a lover because you have become that lover. Two small people without dislike of suspicion.
In spite of photographs taken in beer halls or nightclubs showing her cuddling up to some strapping, smirking youth, it seems that the romantic clich
If you look closely you'll find all my lovers inscribed on my skin.
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