And what's romance? Usually, a nice little tale where you have everything As You Like It, where rain never wets your jacket and gnats never bite your nose and it's always daisy-time.
Any walk through a park that runs between a double line of mangy trees and passes brazenly by the ladies toilet is invariably known as ''Lover's Lane.''
He must have a truly romantic nature, for he weeps when there is nothing at all to weep about.
I'm a romantic — a sentimental person thinks things will last — a romantic person hopes against hope that they won t.
Love stories are only fit for the solace of people in the insanity of puberty. No healthy adult human being can really care whether so-and-so does or does not succeed in satisfying his physiological uneasiness by the aid of some particular person or not.
Marriage is a romance in which the hero dies in the first chapter.
Men always want to be a woman's first love. Women have a more subtle instinct: What they like is to be a man's last romance.
No age seemed the age of romance to itself.
Nothing spoils a romance so much as a sense of humor in the woman.
Rather would I have the love songs of romantic ages, rather Don Juan and Madame Venus, rather an elopement by ladder and rope on a moonlight night, followed by the father's curse, mother's moans, and the moral comments of neighbors, than correctness and propriety measured by yardsticks.
Romance and novel paint beauty in colors more charming than nature, and describe a happiness that humans never taste. How deceptive and destructive are those pictures of consummate bliss!
Romance has been elegantly defined as the offspring of fiction and love.
Romance like a ghost escapes touching; it is always where you are not, not where you are. The interview or conversation was prose at the time, but it is poetry in the memory.
Romance should never begin with sentiment. It should begin with science and end with a settlement.
Romance, like the rabbit at the dog track, is the elusive, fake, and never attained reward which, for the benefit and amusement of our masters, keeps us running and thinking in safe circles.
Romanticism is not just a mode; it literally eats into every life. Women will never get rid of just waiting for the right man.
She who makes her husband and her children happy, who reclaims the one from vice, and trains up the other to virtue, is a much greater character than the ladies described in romance, whose whole occupation is to murder mankind with shafts from their quiver or their eyes.
The concept of romantic love affords a means of emotional manipulation which the male is free to exploit, since love is the only circumstance in which the female is (ideologically) pardoned for sexual activity.
The essence of romantic love is that wonderful beginning, after which sadness and impossibility may become the rule.
To love oneself is the beginning of a life long romance.