Comedy Romantic Quotes

Rejection is an opportunity for your selection.

You are enough to drive a saint to madness or a king to his knees.

I simply regard romantic comedies as a subgenre of sci-fi, in which the world created therein has different rules than my regular human world.

I was supposed to write a romantic comedy, but my characters broke up.

At some point during almost every romantic comedy, the female lead suddenly trips and falls, stumbling helplessly over something ridiculous like a leaf, and then some Matthew McConaughey type either whips around the corner just in the nick of time to save her or is clumsily pulled down along with her. That event predictably leads to the magical moment of their first kiss. Please. I fall ALL the time. You know who comes and gets me? The bouncer.

If I looked like him,” Tara said. “I’d want to have sex with myself. All the time.

He clamped his eyes shut and waited for the pang of something he could no longer name to subside; it plucked at steel threads holding him together and reverberated through his system.

Some stories have to be written because no one would believe the absurdity of it all.

Warm, aquamarine eyes stared into him—providing a lifeline to shore. And he wondered if she was really the one who needed saving . . .

Hal yang terpenting dalam cinta adalah persahabatan. Dan hal yang terpenting dalam persahabatan adalah cinta ...

She was a ray of sunshine, a warm summer rain, a bright fire on a cold winter’s day, and now she could be dead because she had tried to save the man she loved.

It starts so young, and I'm angry about that. The garbage we're taught. About love, about what's "romantic." Look at so many of the so-called romantic figures in books and movies. Do we ever stop and think how many of them would cause serious and drastic unhappiness after The End? Why are sick and dangerous personality types so often shown a passionate and tragic and something to be longed for when those are the very ones you should run for your life from? Think about it. Heathcliff. Romeo. Don Juan. Jay Gatsby. Rochester. Mr. Darcy. From the rigid control freak in The Sound of Music to all the bad boys some woman goes running to the airport to catch in the last minute of every romantic comedy. She should let him leave. Your time is so valuable, and look at these guys--depressive and moody and violent and immature and self-centered. And what about the big daddy of them all, Prince Charming? What was his secret life? We dont know anything about him, other then he looks good and comes to the rescue.

Light flashed in her eyes. In fact, it clung to her—flaring around her skin, her hair, her whole body. It was a trick of the eyes, his mind, when adrenaline hit his system. But she glowed. Vivid. Alive. And for a moment, he’d have given anything to be like her.

Is there anything else you need from me?" Ranger asked. "Not right now." "There will come a time," Ranger said. "Let me know when." And he disconnected. I opened the freezer and stuck my head in to cool off. If there'd been any more innuendo in that conversation, I could have fried an egg on my forehead.

I am bigger than the box I'm in.

AOAN LOVES LOKI.

Life Is Too Short--So Kiss Slowly, Laugh Insanely, Love Truly, And Live With Passion.

Oh, for God’s sake, woman, you don’t have to be afraid of me.

I'm Batman, so I could be your hero anyway!

Often you don’t know whether you’re the hero of a romantic comedy or the villain on a Lifetime special until the restraining order arrives.

Sorry,” he said. “Let me drop the belt-" “No.” She held on when he would have pulled away. “Don’t. I like it.” Again, he lifted her face, and he smiled. “The tool belt turns you on.” “No.” She closed her eyes and thunked her forehead to his chest. “Little bit.

Your confidence in me is heartwarming. Makes me want to return all the money I stole from the little old ladies and kick the heroin.

Who’s there?” “The scratcher of your itch,” he said. She opened the door a crack and stuck her nose out. “Was that supposed to be romantic?

Oh honey, someday a real man is going to make you see stars and you won't even be looking at the sky." Excerpt from Grace Willow's Last Minute Bride

Her dad turned to me. "You. Follow Me." "Woof," I said.

She was thinking of doing a little Cuervo therapy.

She had platonic all but tattooed on her forehead.

And for Heaven's sake, do not wiggle!

Aren’t we all just looking for someone to talk about everything with? Someone worth the effort of telling our stories and opinions to, whose stories and opinions we actually want to hear?

A friendship where you're always trying to be considerate of the other person, always worrying about what they think, always responding to every single text, always seeking their approval and then finally connecting with them, isn't friendship at all.

You make my vagina all melty,--wait no!--You make my belly all melty. My vaginas hot!

Let's go," I said. "Go where?" "On Lori's date with Parker." Now he looked at me over the nerdy spectacles he wore for reading. "I wasn't aware it was a double date. And you're not my type.

Stay away from her." "Okay." "Keep your hands off her." "I'll try." He scowled at me. "I will," I said.

I blame Hollywood for skewing perspectives. Life is just a big romantic comedy to them, and if you meet cute, happily ever-after is a forgone conclusion.

It was a belated realization to have, but it occurred to me that perhaps this was how grown-up conversations worked—not that your communication didn’t falter, but that you both made good-faith attempts to rectify things after it had.

And this was why falling for the butterflies was never a good idea. I didn’t feel all bubbly and excited now. I felt cold and broken and empty. - Rachel

There’s something very comforting about watching a Hugh Grant movie. You know no one’s head will be blown off in the first three minutes, no one will be tortured, and the worst thing that might happen is seeing a lanky Welshman eating mayonnaise in his underpants

A pair of great heels was much more satisfying than a man. They lasted longer, and better yet, they didn’t leave me for someone prettier.

She didn’t sound overjoyed. She didn’t sound even slightly joyed.

Sometimes when I speak, I feel like I’m writing dialogue for the character of myself. I’m impersonating a normal human when really I’m a confused freak.

This was my love, her love --torn, damaged, broken, ripped apart and put back together. This was our tattered love.

You’ll never get anywhere by staying in your comfort zone!!

Son," he said, "you monkeyed up.

How my heart missed beating like this. For him. Only for him.

riley: give me a romantic comedy any day. rhoan: your jest a girly-girl at heart, arent you? riley: takes one to know one, bro.

Tamaki: Spring, m'man, was made for romantic comedy!! And Haruhi and I make the perfect couple! We're meant for this! Karou and Hikaru: What about us? Tamaki: You are sexless!

Dan habis ini, gue harap lo bakal lebih wise dan nyari seseorang yang bersedia tinggal di sisi lo - not just for weekend, but for the whole days in the week.

I would praise the Lord above for a ticket to that ride.

Every girl should have at least one wild fling on her resumé.

Sounds like you kids have some talking to do. I'll be eavesdropping from the kitchen.

I'm not stalking her," I insisted. "I'm making sure she's safe. Besides, how could you stalk Lori McGillicuddy? She'd see you and come out to your truck and say, "Hi, I'm Lori. Are you my stalker? It's so neat to meet you! While you're stuck here watching my every move, can I bring you anything? Sweet tea?

We all say and do things we regret, but it’s never to late to change, apologize and become a better person

What did Kevin Ye get arrested for anyway? Didn't he steal a car?" "He stole the driver's ed car." I laughed. Then I saw how Adam was looking at me. "He gave it back." "They MAKE you give stuff back, Lori, after they arrest you for stealing it.

I need to explain all this to Adam in private. I can't get McGillicuddy to explain it to him. Something will be lost in translation." "Well, excuse me that I can't look at him all googly-eyed," my brother said. "And he's liable to punch you," I said.

Nobody's perfect. They are weak, with ugly hearts, and they quickly turn to jealousy. They try to knock others down. It's so odd . . . In the world we live in, the greater a person is, the more difficult his or her life becomes.

He couldn’t just come right out with it, could he? No, that would scare her off. He had to be subtle, build up to it. Explain himself. “I love you.” Of course, straight to the point was also an effective strategy.

Think like a middle-aged man with OCD, a dead wife, and a teenage daughter. Think like a woman with three teenage sons who once ran a golf cart into the side of their granddad's house." "Cameron and Sean shouldn't have let me drive," Adam said in his own defense. "I was seven." "You shouldn't have ASKED to drive. You were seven.

I didn't want to miss out on another second with this girl. Fuck everything. Fuck everyone. None of it mattered.

Well, bloody noses." I hug his coat tighter. "Those are definitely hot.

Beaumont wanted Esmond very badly. Esmond wanted Beaumont’s wife. And she didn’t want anybody.

Phoebe doesn't quite believe in fate the way I do. She says you have to chase your destiny, and she always expects life to be like a romantic comedy: all you have to do is dress the part of the heroine, and pretty soon you'll be kissing some hottie while fountains spew and music swells in the background.

You know what love means? It means loving the person you are now and not the person you want someone to be or the person they will be.

Bila hidup ini memang pertarungan, kita baru tahu siapa yang menang dan kalah di akhir kehidupan. Selama kita masih bernapas, masih ada kesempatan untuk menang.

Better you than Cameron " McGillicuddy grumbled. "I know where Cameron's been." Sean snorted. Cameron said "I already told you I did NOT come on to Lori.

You know, Taylor, I told his manager that your reputation in this firm is that you can go head-to-head with any man. And win.

Some people just don’t find their Prince Charming straight away, they have to search for him.

And you’re overthinking things, Charming.  Do the math.  Naked, interested man, check.  Wet, willing woman, double check.  Now insert part A into slot B and we can move on to the engineering portion of our quiz today.

Just 'cause I'm bi doesn't mean I have magic powers. I'm not the plucky queer sidekick in your romantic comedy.

I want you to know, chickens aren’t sexy. Not to me.” This was met with silence. “Are you there?” She was slurring her words now, which was embarrassing, so she took a deep breath. “Cam? Can you hear me?” “Yes, chickens aren’t sexy. Uh…I don’t think they’re meant to be.

I don't suppose you have a rocket powered helicopter hidden in your bra?

Friendship matters first.

...he's just so out-of-this-world. They don't make them like that anymore.

...your heart spoke for you. You gave up everything for me.

He's like a God. You worship the gods, but you don't go out with them. You only like guys like that from a distance.

Wanita cerdas bisa menghadapi cecunguk mana pun dengan anggun.

Even though Sean still held my head down I was the only one who thought to ask "Who's driving the boat?" Over the motor I heard girls screaming at us the instant before we crashed.

Me: Cake, brownies, ice cream? GO! Zach: Yes. Me: NO! Pick one! HURRY Me: I’m at the store getting ready to check out and I NEED TO KNOW. I can’t decide. Help a cute, hangry girl out, would ya. Zach: How about…a brownie cake with ice cream. Me: I think I just came. Zach: I am known for my skills.

A smaller rocket cut across the sky, trailing smoke. It exploded in a red heart. "Awwwww!" said the crowd. "Upside down," said Sean. The heart was, indeed, upside down. It grew and grew, upside down, until it's lights trailed and faded. A bigger rocket exploded in bright golden sparks, and then came another red heart. "Upside down," said all the boys. Three explosions layered on top of one another, gold, blue, pink. Then still another red heart exploded, growing and growing before it faded. "Upside down," said everyone in the boat but me. My own heart expanded for Adam. I whispered, "I know what he meant.

My God, Mace was all man, the kind of man every warm-blooded woman would love to take home for the night, tie to her bed and let loose on. Sitting this close to him, my mind conjured up a long list of things I could do, just with my mouth.

Scarlett Garcia fell at the feet of no gloriously delicious man!

If you want to protect your pride, you don't need people to like you!

If you're our age and single, dating kind of has to be an act of reckless optimism, right? The triumph of hope over experience?

Aku tidak percaya akan cinta pada pandangan pertama. Tapi harus kuakui, aku menyukai apa yang kulihat pada pandangan pertama.

the romantic comedy I seem to have ended up in as the comic-relief ethnically diverse side character

I think I've been waiting for the big gesture, the one where the guy stands in the rain and declares his love or makes some scene at a football game that ends with the crowd doing the slow clap. It's official. Romantic comedies have ruined me.

You make terrible, terrible plans." "Hey, " I protested. "One of my plans caught you didn't it?" "Yeah, but you meant to catch Sean." He took his hand off my shoulder. I waved his concerns away, along with a cloud of gnats that had found us in the forest. "You're getting lost in the details. Keep the big picture in mind.

Sensitivity to the sound of one's name is a special gift of loners. Because the loner does not often hear his name, he reacts dramatically in the rare event the word is uttered. Source: me.

All of which was to say that the sketches I’d written over the years about the absurdity and arbitrariness of beauty standards for women had arisen not from my clear-eyed renunciation of them but from my resentment at their hold on me.

He sighed, then said, "So basically, you're stalking her." "I am NOT stalking her." I insisted. "That's where you come in. If I followed her by myself, someone who did not understand the situation and did not realize that I am so responsible-" McGillicuddy snorted. "- might mistake what I am doing for stalking. However, her big brother is with me. Therefore we are protecting her.

She was Darcy Montgomery, Southern Sanctuary Special Liaison, she fixed things.  When people irritated her, well, she fixed them… she fixed them good.  Or should that be, for good? 

You know the advice about how you should always play tennis with people better than you? When I'm talking to you, I'm a funnier and smarter version of myself because you're funny and smart.

Just leave me alone, I want to be alone,” she said when Jack tried to open the car door. She hit the lock, and wound the window up. Since the roof was down, it was a fairly pointless exercise.

Just so you know, Araragi-kun, I hate romantic comedies where it is obvious the two will get together at the end but lukewarm developments keep them at an in-between more-than-friends-less-than-lovers state chapter after chapter just to keep the story going.” “...I see.” “Incidentally, I also hate sports manga where each match takes an entire year and yet you know they are going to win in the end. I also hate battle manga where it is clear they will defeat the final boss and bring peace to the world, but the battles with weaker enemies go on forever.” “I think you just covered every shounen manga and shoujo manga in existence.” - Senjougahara Hitagi & Araragi Koyomi

Adam thinks that you two are in an argument." My body zinged into alert mode. My mind didn't know what Mrs. Vader meant, but my body already did. Even Sean glanced over at her with a cautious look. "He does?" I asked faintly. "A bad one," she confirmed. "How could we be in a bad argument without me even knowing about it?

Opposites attract but only to torture each other.

You are enough to drive a saint to madness or a king to his knees Excerpt from To Kiss a King by Grace Willows Coming this summer to Amazon Kindle and paperback.

I truly believed Facebook was created by Satan as a way to turn completely sane people into obsessed stalkers.

Perhaps, as was often the case with human interactions, it meant nothing.

Bila dari dulu aku tahu sebuah tabrakan bisa mempertemukanku dengan wanita cantik sepertimu, aku tak akan mengemudi terlalu hati-hati.

Mungkin kau harus berhenti memedulikan apa kata orang tentang dirimu.

Ganteng bukan segalanya. Kau belum tahu saja, sewaktu-waktu dia bisa berubah menjadi monster yang mengerikan.

Love is simple, if you allow it to be simple." Julian to Hannah, Take A Chance

The things that suck still suck, but they're allowed to be happy. And maybe it means so much more that they're happy, knowing that they still carry that sadness with them.

that kid may not carry my DNA, but by God, I don’t care. I love that little shit like my own and I want to be his daddy.

I love the movie "Titanic." It's my favorite romantic comedy!

I make jewelry. I drink caramel machiattos. I wear Hello Kitty to bed. Of course I love romantic comedies,' I said with a smile as we neared my house. But I didn’t just love them. I wanted to live within them. I wanted a love like in the movies.

Have you ever seen The Goodbye Girl? Don’t watch it if you still want to enjoy romantic comedies. It makes every movie ever made starring Julia Roberts or Sandra Bullock lash itself in shame.

I became aware of applause. It seemed natural. I had been living in the world of romantic comedy and this was the final scene. But it was real. The entire University Club dining room had been watching. I decided to complete the story according to tradition and kissed Rosie.

I'm a nothing person. I don't affiliate myself with any kind of label [..] The truly stalwart don't run with a group. Being alone is like standing against the whole world. Me versus the world.

...delayed gratification? “Is that where I tie you to the bed, go out and kill a platoon of ogres before returning to have my wicked way with you?” “Sounds like we have our first anniversary plans already locked and loaded.

There is something so innocent and sweet about romantic movies. The world doesn't always make sense, but in a good romantic comedy, I'm guaranteed a happily ever after.

Don't shit on a plate and tell me it's fudge, Daniel. You called after midnight.

What are you thinking?” I ask. “That I wish this was my home, too.” I have nothing to say to this, so I kiss him instead.

How rude could you get? She was treating a boy she'd only just met as an inferior being. The only other person I can think of who does that is a Saiyan prince.

Oh come on—as if there’s a clear distinction between real and fake for any of us. Aren’t we all performing the role of ourselves?

Romantic comedies are there to give us dreams and butterflies, but what we can create in our own lives could be not only better but real.

Valkyrie? Well, well, aren’t you full of surprises? Not just another blonde bimbo. You’re like a collector’s edition Barbie, with your gold accessories and rather snazzy boots.

Kyle is my best friend. Why would I risk screwing that up?" "Mackenzie Catherine Dobson, have you learned nothing from romantic comedies? Do I need to make a trip to the video store?" Tess set her fork down and sighed. "'We're just friends' is the oldest plot device in the book. All it really means is that you're just friends until one of you get the balls to do something about all the unresolved tension.

How easily such a thing can become a mania, how the most normal and sensible of women once this passion to be thin is upon them, can lose completely their sense of balance and proportion and spend years dealing with this madness.

A loner, by nature, burdens no one with their existence. By avoiding entanglements with others, they cause no harm. We are extremely ecologically friendly, clean, and environmentally aware creatures.

Saturday is the mightiest day of the week. It's unshakably, overwhelmingly superior. Not only is it a day off of school, the following day is also a day off, like some kind of Super Saiyan bargain sale.

Could it be that Noah was one of those rare guys who didn’t essentially dislike or mock women, and who also didn’t ignore our existence, and who also didn’t see us primarily as objects of lust? That he was weirdly, disarmingly fine with us?

The magic of boy meets girl, the angst of catch and release, the serendipity of meant-to-be, It doesn't matter if a romantic comedy follows a predictable course, we respond because it's rooted in truth. In magic.

For a woman to be taken as seriously as a man she must be three times as effective. Happily, this is not difficult.--Simone de Beauvoir

When I make love to you, Lanie, I want you to feel every inch of me buried deep inside of you, loving you, worshiping your body...

People who don’t work hard don’t have the right to be envious of the people with talent. People fail because they don’t understand the hard work necessary to be successful.

I'm a guy. Unless the dirt attacks first, I leave it in peace.

Buckle up. It'd be embarrassing to die in a hearse.

He’s the thing my teenage fantasies were made of. Woodsy male scent. Muscular, yet trim frame. A quick wit that always finds a way to pull me into a debate.

The Dictionary defines Soul Mate as: A person who is perfectly suited to another in temperament. Before I met mine, I didn't know I was bonkers!

And it takes me a second to remember what were actually talking about, the horror movie that is my life instead of the romantic comedy that is Millie's.

What was the point of starting a new life if she did everything the same as her old one?

Taking his hand I said "Fank woo." "Hm " he laughed with his mouth closed.

(Can human beings change? The humor, and the sadness, of remarriage comedies can be said to result from the fact that we have no good answer to that question.)

I’M SURE NOBODY GOES ON vacation expecting to be dismembered and put through a woodchipper, but some tourists are just assholes and deserve their fate.

Nothing is less trustworthy than a woman's tears.

The morning light played up his hazel eyes and for a moment I was caught in his allure. The dark brows, the dark hair, the tan skin. A weaker woman would have thrown herself at him a long time ago.

I don’t get why you’d write scripts for romantic comedies if you think romance is cheesy nonsense.” “That’s just it, though,” I said. “I don’t write from a point of clarity. I write out of confusion.

There was a group of fans who wanted autographs, and several women who managed to write their phone numbers on Wade's hand before he pulled free. Sam sent him an arched brow, but he just shrugged. He got numbers written on him a lot; he'd never figured out how to stop that from happening.

Once I checked my email, I would get lost in a book so I could feel the main character's pain instead of mine, laugh at her missteps rather than lament my own, and cheer for the happy ending that seemed to elude me.

Stubble or what?" Eyes still closed he chuckled. "I'm not shaving until our parents let us date again." He kissed my cheek. "What if it takes... a... while?" I asked struggling to talk. He'd made his way down to my neck. His tongue circled there slowly. "There are only six or seven weeks until August football practice starts right?" "Hm." His mouth moved up my neck toward my ear. Oh. "Will you be able to stuff your beard into your helmet?" I croaked. In answer he put his lips on my ear. I forgot the next joke I'd planned to make and lost myself in Adam.

Begging your pardon, but I'm not just a secretary. I seriously, seriously despised it when people called secretaries and administrative professionals just a secretary. Being a secretary was a multitasking marathon, a daily gauntlet of making everyone happy all the time.

If you're not ready for the consequences, then don't stir up shit in the first place.

Sometimes it's, run don't walk! Like when you're going to the arms of a loved one.

Normally I didn't attend my father's funerals unless I was scheduled to sing, but it wasn't every day Dad buried a rock star.

I wondered if this was how it felt to sell your soul to the devil. I bet there were awesome cookies in hell, too.

I do think you should change in private. You don't see me ripping off my clothes in front of you, now do you?" He gave a deep fake sigh. "Sadly, no.

Frankly, if her face wasn't so cute, I would most certainly have been punching it.

Karamel. Aku baru memperhatikan, warna matanya coklat keemasan, seperti sirup karamel yang selalu kucampurkan di kopiku.

It was a sweet kind of torture to have the love of your life so incredibly close but know she could never be yours.

just keep on hating me i hate myself too

Book dragons. I’d somehow fallen prey to a pair of book dragons.

A huge cloud of dust is not a beautiful thing to look at. Very few painters have done portraits of huge clouds of dust or included them in their landscapes or still lifes. Film directors rarely choose huge clouds of dust to play the lead roles in romantic comedies, and as far as my research has shown, a huge cloud of dust has never placed higher than twenty-fifth in a beauty pageant. Nevertheless, as the Baudelaire orphans stumbled around the cell, dropped each half of the battering ram and listening to the sound of crows flying in circles outside, they stared at the huge cloud of dust as if it were a thing of great beauty.

Excuse me, your attention please.” He waited until the whole floor had stopped what it was doing and turned to face him. For a split second his impulse control kicked in, but by then his mouth was fully engaged. “For the record, Claire Marsden and I are not having sex.

Careful,” he chided with a grin. “First you talk marriage and now you're telling me what to eat. You're sounding more and more like a real girlfriend every day. Just remember, this is still our first date, so keep your hands to yourself tonight. I'm not one of those guys.

Because my mother hadn’t been an ostentatious or performative person, it had taken me a long time, until college really, to realize how smart and funny she was, and how generously compassionate.

Why would I want to stew in my aloneness?” “Because you’re scared.” “What am I scared of?” “Getting hurt. Knowing another person really well and another person knowing you really well. Feelings you can’t make fun of. Interactions that go on for long enough that they maybe turn a little awkward or a little tedious instead of ending after ten minutes with a zinger.

See, I’m the worst breed of human. Let me explain. Some people are dead inside. They go through life knowing this, and they manage fine enough, because, well, they’re dead inside. They aren’t bitter because they don’t care enough to change. They just try to get by with the things they can control. Others live in the fucking clouds, watch romantic comedies, and dream about everything being perfect one day. These people are always fine because they have an everlasting well of hope inside them, and no matter what happens they’ll just romanticize their existence. But when it comes to me…I’m someone who’s mostly dead inside but still has a little hope for something extraordinary, which, as I said, is the worst breed of human, because it means that I know everything is bullshit, but that I secretly hope for the day when it might not be. The tension makes me wish I were just completely dead inside. It would makes things much easier for me.

Adam ” Lori called loudly enough for me to hear her but not so loud that her voice would carry up to my mom in the marina office- or to her dad who might be listening from their screened porch facing the water. “I came over to get some tips from the boys about teaching Tammy and Rachel to board. Of course I did not come over here to see you. How could you think such a thing That would be disobedient.” I held up the wax. “For my own disobedience I have to buff the boat. Then I’m going for a jog.” She tilted her head. Probably her eyes widened but I couldn’t see them behind her sunglasses. I hated not being able to see her eyes. She asked “In this heat?” I didn’t mind jogging in the heat. The heat was a big friendly animal that liked to wrestle and only occasionally sat on me until I lost my breath. Anyway she was missing the point. I repeated carefully ”I am GOING for a JOG.” “I HEARD you the FIRST time ” she said. “It’s late afternoon in the middle of June. It’s ninety-five degrees out here.” “He means he’s GOING for a JOG” Rachel and Tammy said at the same time. “He’s GOING for a JOG.” Lori still didn’t get it. Normally her blondeness was one of the things I loved about her. At the moment not so much. Exasperated Cameron told her “Adam wants you to go for a jog too.” She said “Oh ” “If you two airheads have to hook up secretly for very long ” Sean said “you’re not going to make it.

You won’t hear a character’s friend say this in a romantic comedy. Taylor Swift won’t sing this, Eminem won’t rap it, and Suzanne Collins won’t write it, but it’s true: just because you’re “in love” with someone doesn’t mean you should seriously consider marrying them.

You snore.” She stopped in the middle of the hallway and gaped. “I do not.” “Oh yeah, you do.” He nodded, beaming from ear to ear. “Cute, kind of baby snores, but still snores by standard definition. Maybe that was the problem that broke up you and David. Doctors need their sleep, you know.

There are no guarantees with love,’ her father said, reading her mind. ‘You can’t hold some of it back, like a deposit, so you can get your money back if something goes wrong. You have to give yourself wholeheartedly, whatever the cost.

Men know that most women want to have an emotional connection with someone before they sleep with them. Men know that a lot of women think it's romantic to be friends first, and then the friendship blossoms into a relationship. Men know that they have to jump through all these hoops first, before they can get laid. And that's really all romance and courtship is to a man: hoops he has to jump through to get laid.

Apa aku kelihatan seperti orang yang sedang memendam sebuah rahasia? Apakah Ukun dan Tamat tahu rahasia hatiku? Bahwa aku sedang jatuh cinta? Perlukah kukabari mereka bahwa aku sedang jatuh cinta? Kukabari sedikit mungkin, jangan banyak-banyak. tapi jangan ah, aku malu. Oh apakah gerangan yang aku alami ini? Mengapa kebingungan bisa menjadi begitu indah?

Right? Because hot eventually gets boring, but funny never does.

I don't like cucumber because the best part of a cucumber tastes like the worst part of a watermelon.

Everyone thinks of romantic comedies as being these sappy, unrealistic stories where love conquers all and everyone ends up happy at the end. But that's not what her movies were at all. Like, in Sleepless in Seattle, you can't really get any sadder that Tom Hanks missing his dead wife. And in You've Got Mail, Meg Ryan misses her mom and loses her store. None of that gets resolved by the end. It's not like Tom's wife comes back to life, and Meg Ryan still loses the business her mom built.

I flopped on the overstuffed kitchen couch and watched him go. I wondered what would happen to all his films and photographs in the upstairs closet - the documentaries on homelessness and drug addiction, the funny short subjects, the half-finished romantic comedy, the boxes of slice-of-life photographs that spoke volumes about the human condition. I wondered how you stop caring about what you've ached over, sweated over. (Thwonk)

I am willing to admit that Gerard Butler has single-handedly murdered the romantic comedy.” Gigi snickered. “Gerard Butler took the romantic comedy to an orgy, accidentally strangled it during an air game, panicked, and dumped its body in the woods.” I stared at her, gobsmacked. “That may be the funniest thing I've ever heard –” I spluttered. “How the hell do you even know what an air game is?” Gigi preened. “Just because you put the parental locks on HBO doesn’t mean I can’t get around them.

Stalking?” Brad made a face, drawing back as if he’d been asked to host a Pampered Chef party. “I didn’t say anything about stalking. All I want you to do is stick close to her and check out who she talks to… see where she goes… maybe find out what kind of guys are approaching her. That sort of thing. Then report it all back to me.

William Shakespeare (baptised 26 April 1564 – died 23 April 1616) was an English poet and playwright, widely regarded as the greatest writer in the English language and the world's pre-eminent dramatist. He is often called England's national poet and the "Bard of Avon" (or simply "The Bard"). His surviving works consist of 38 plays, 154 sonnets, two long narrative poems, and several other poems. His plays have been translated into every major living language, and are performed more often than those of any other playwright. Shakespeare was born and raised in Stratford-upon-Avon. At the age of 18 he married Anne Hathaway, who bore him three children: Susanna, and twins Hamnet and Judith. Between 1585 and 1592 he began a successful career in London as an actor, writer, and part owner of the playing company the Lord Chamberlain's Men, later known as the King's Men. He appears to have retired to Stratford around 1613, where he died three years later. Few records of Shakespeare's private life survive, and there has been considerable speculation about such matters as his sexuality, religious beliefs, and whether the works attributed to him were written by others. Shakespeare produced most of his known work between 1590 and 1613. His early plays were mainly comedies and histories, genres he raised to the peak of sophistication and artistry by the end of the sixteenth century. Next he wrote mainly tragedies until about 1608, including Hamlet, King Lear, and Macbeth, considered some of the finest examples in the English language. In his last phase, he wrote tragicomedies, also known as romances, and collaborated with other playwrights. Many of his plays were published in editions of varying quality and accuracy during his lifetime, and in 1623 two of his former theatrical colleagues published the First Folio, a collected edition of his dramatic works that included all but two of the plays now recognised as Shakespeare's. Shakespeare was a respected poet and playwright in his own day, but his reputation did not rise to its present heights until the nineteenth century. The Romantics, in particular, acclaimed Shakespeare's genius, and the Victorians hero-worshipped Shakespeare with a reverence that George Bernard Shaw called "bardolatry". In the twentieth century, his work was repeatedly adopted and rediscovered by new movements in scholarship and performance. His plays remain highly popular today and are consistently performed and reinterpreted in diverse cultural and political contexts throughout the world. Source: Wikipedia

. If the most important thing is to take part, then surely one could find meaning in not taking part as well. And if everything’s worth experiencing, then there’s little doubt that the feeling of not experiencing something is, in itself, worth experiencing. In fact, you could even call it a valuable experience to not experience something everyone else does.

Five thousand dollars? For a kiss?” “That’s what I said.” “With tongue?” “It’s not really a kiss without it. Just say yes, pet. You obviously need the money.” I gasp before I can stop myself. I didn’t think five words from a stranger could hurt so much. What a dick. “For fuck’s sake, Nicholas,” Simon says. But he just looks at me, waiting, those arrogant green eyes alight with anticipation. So I give him what he’s waiting for. “Hands under the table,” I order. He smiles wider, puts his flask in his pocket, and does what he’s told. “Close your eyes.” “I like a woman who’s not afraid to take charge.” “No more talking.” He’s said more than enough. I lean in, keeping my eyes open the whole time, memorizing every angle of that face, feeling his warm breath against my cheek. This close, I can see the shadow of stubble on his chin and for just a second, I let myself wonder what it would feel like scratching against my stomach, my thighs—everywhere. Then in one move, I pick up his plate—and smash the apple pie in his stupid, handsome face. “Kiss this, asshole.

...no matter how beneficial a disappearing act might be for me, I could never tear myself away from a show in progress. Even when the plot's tragic ending is apparent to the entire audience. Perhaps there's a deus ex machina that will lower from the ceiling and turn the whole debacle into a romantic comedy. never can tell. Paid the full ticket price, might as well stay.

I want to give you affirmation. But if I don't give you enough, you should ask for it." "Isn't asking for affirmation — I don't know — needy?" He looked perplexed. "Isn't the point of something like this that the other person tries to meet your needs, and you try to meet theirs?" I was quiet for a few seconds before saying, "Is this what they teach in therapy? Because it's blowing my mind.

Oof!" Adam caught me all right, with the side of his head. I could tell by the feel of his skull on my foot as I kicked him. He grabbed me the best he could anyway, and we half landed, half fell in the pine needles. He lay facedown on the ground. I flopped him over on his back to make sure he was alive. If he had a concussion, we'd have to call the ambulance, which meant we'd get caught and he'd get sent to military school. On the bright side, maybe the military school would not take him if he had brain damage. "I'm so sorry." "Worth it," he grunted. He rolled onto his feet like a ninja and grabbed my hand. "Hurry, before they release the hounds.

It was Valentine's Day and I had spent the day in bed with my life partner, Ketel One. The two of us watched a romance movie marathon on TBS Superstation that made me wonder how people who write romantic comedies can sleep at night. At some point during almost every romantic comedy, the female lead suddenly trips and falls, stumbling helplessly over something ridiculous like a leaf, and then some Matthew McConaughey type either whips around the corner just in the nick of time to save her or is clumsily pulled down along with her. That event predictably leads to the magical moment of their first kiss. Please. I fall all-the-time. You know who comes and gets me? The bouncer. Then, within the two hour time frame of the movie, the couple meet, fall in love, fall out of love, break up, and then just before the end of the movie, they happen to bump into each other by "coincidence" somewhere absolutely absurd, like by the river. This never happens in real life. The last time I bumped into an ex-boyfriend was at three o'clock in the morning at Rite Aid. I was ringing up Gas-X and corn removers.

I want queer authors to write anything and everything they need to write. I have no interest in gatekeeping; I want the full spectrum. I want the coming out books. I want the books about queer suffering. I want on-page catharsis and exploration of trauma. I want the happy books, too: queer joy books, cute romantic comedies, first crush books, fantasies about queer royals and revolutionaries and spaceship captains. (...) We need all types of queer stories because all types of queer people exist. I want the market to be so saturated with queer books that anyone who needs to see themselves in a story—anyone who hasn’t yet seen themselves, hasn’t yet gotten to be the hero—can walk into any bookstore and find a book (or six) about someone who experiences the world like they do. I want every queer author to get the chance to tell their story. To tell people, We exist everywhere. We suffer, we survive, we love. We can be magic, too.

Well," I said, "I once heard a smart person point out that it's hard to determine where the dividing line is between cheesiness and acceptable emotional extravagance." He grinned again. "I didn't tell you at the time, but I know exactly where that line is. When it's happening to other people, it's cheesy. When it's happening to you, it's wonderful.

And if I was looking at that, would I pick you out from everyone else and say, ‘That’s the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen’? If I’m being honest, no. But human beings aren’t static images. We’re dynamic and kinetic, and it’s like I said before—right away, I wanted to talk to you, and every time I’ve talked to you since I’ve always wanted to keep talking to you.

Cary hasn’t told me anything—he’s a gentleman. He won’t ever talk about you. But you’re no gentleman, Shiloh. Give me the goods.” She shook her head. “There are no goods.” Mikey tipped his head, squinting one eye. “Uhhh, maybe I’d believe that if I hadn’t seen you filming a romantic comedy at my own wedding reception. Like, seriously. It was my wedding, but you guys got voted Cutest Couple.

You know, typically a nickname is shorter than the given name.” “Is it?” he asked in mock seriousness. “Oh. Well, tell you what, you can call me…” She waited several beats, thinking of more than a few unkind examples. “I can call you what?” she finally asked. “That’s it.” He shot her his bone-melting smile. “You can just call me. Anytime.” She rolled her eyes, refusing to give in to the smile that threatened. “That sounds like a line from one of your movies.” He shot her a triumphant look. “Ah, ha! I knew you were a fan.

After being married to a guy who didn't like what made me me, and being friends with a guy who adored me but didn't want to make out with me, I don't trust my own instincts. Both situations scrambled my brain, and I know it's a small sample size, but I decided to be done with that shit. And now our emails are scrambling me again.

Georgie?” He reached out with both hands to steady her—and himself. His mind had trouble focusing. He couldn’t believe Georgie was actually standing in front of him. She looked liked an angel—in knee-high biker boots. Those boots looked even better in real life than in his imagination. He gazed into her eyes and was filled with so many emotions, so many things he wanted to say to her, he didn’t know where to start. “I like your shoes,” he said.

It would be wrong to believe that the deceivers at this game are sharply separated from the deceived, that the world is neatly divided between the cold calculators and the innocent dupes. Everybody is a little of both; you must be a dupe of your own comedy to play it with conviction. The romantic and satanic vision of the cold calculator, of the totally lucid manipulator of other people’s desires, is a more sophisticated version of the narcissistic illusion.

What are you all worked up about?" he asked warily. "This," she spat, motioning to the small space where she sat and he lay, "is what I call taking advantage." Glaring, she looked all flustered and—Lord-don't-put-him-in-more-hot-water-than-he-already-was—sexy with her blond curls bouncing with each word she sputtered. "And you can kindly remove your hand now, too." He glanced down and blinked. Then, with as much remorse as he could muster, he carefully slid his hand out from underneath her butt.

The sad truth of it was that he was too weak to move out. Not physically, but in every other way under the sun. If he left, he would miss the pancakes. He’d miss the syrup. Three times a day, she pricked him with a needle to make sure he was burning it all off and not going diabetic again; if he moved away, he’d miss that too. A little bloodshed was a negligible price to pay for the brief but electrifying thrill of having her touch him. Honestly, the ritual stabbings were fast becoming his favorite part of the day.

But then, he said, "Cute nose." Cute. I have a cute nose. And a cute boyfriend. With cute elk kisses. Also, elk do not sleep standing up. Also, female elk don't have antlers. Also, male elk (bulls) have a harem of cows. Which is maybe why elk popped into my head randomly. Me and Sadie were the cows in Heck's harem. That's weird. But it does explain why I'd randomly think of elks. Elk. Also, though, elk remind me of when we went to Yellowstone—me, Mom, Dad, Mr. Griffin—and saw elk. It was nice. Happy family. And fun. Therefore, elk make me feel happy. And that's probably the real reason for elk randomly popping into my head. Or maybe my mind is a bull with a harem of way too many thought cows! Weirdo.

«Mancano venti miglia a Limerick» disse, mostrandosi molto interessata al percorso. «So leggere i cartelli, grazie» rispose lui, gelido. Piera sbuffò. «Volevo solo rendermi utile, non mettere in dubbio le tue doti di maschio alfa!» La frase le uscì male, provocatoria senza volerlo essere, e infatti, piccato, lui emise un ah! alquanto sarcastico e batté il pugno con violenza sul volante, facendo suonare il clacson. Piera sussultò, sorpresa se non spaventata. «Mi sento di tutto, ti assicuro, tranne che maschio, alfa, beta o delta che sia.» Ecco, ci siamo. «E per il quieto vivere» proseguì lui, «farò persino finta che la notte scorsa tu non mi abbia trattato come un sex-toy…» Questa volta un ah! sarcastico uscì dalle labbra di Piera. «Un sex cosa? Scusa, non ho capito bene.» «Un sex-toy.» «Non so neppure cosa sia.» «Non ne avevo il minimo dubbio.» «Lo prendo come un complimento.» «Prendilo come vuoi. Coniglietti, AH!» «Cosa c’entrano i conigli, adesso?» «Lascia perdere.» «No, spiegati, per favore.» «Una che dorme con dei conigli addosso non può certo sapere cosa sia un sex-toy.» «Ohhh! La mia camicia da notte non è di tuo gusto? Va’ al diavolo, Jean!»

I ran through a restaurant like the fraught heroine in a romantic comedy," I reminded him in a whisper. "That's crazy. That's drama. That's -" "Real," he cut me off. "Shit was overwhelming you, you had a reaction and you're allowed, Kia. You didn't hide that either." He moved, rolling me and pulling us down in the bed so my head was to the pillows, his arms were still around me, his torso was resting on mine and his face was super close. "What you didn't do was, when I fucked up, hurt your feels, you didn't call me on it. I keep tellin' you I'm not him and I'll keep doin' it until you work him outta you, baby, but, in a healthy relationship, you're allowed to get pissed and in my face. Fuck, I need you to do that so I know what buttons not to push, where I can't go and avoid those places. And I'll do the same for you. Its part of learning how to take care of each other. Its fightin but its a form of communication and it's also a form of trust. We have words, we come to terms, we learn about each other and we move on stronger.

real worst-case scenario was that they’d know me in a way I didn’t want to be known by them. Even I wasn’t sure if my in-person self (a mild-mannered woman of average intelligence and attractiveness) or my scripts (willfully raging sketches about sexism and bodily functions) reflected my real self—or if I had a real self, or if anyone did. But I suspected that much of my writing emerged from this tension or lack of integration; I believed the perceptions undergirding my sketches arose from my being invisible or at least underestimated, including being mistaken for someone nicer than I was.

God, what I wouldn’t give to live in a fairytale, sometimes. Or even just a romantic comedy. In them, this wouldn’t fly. Like, imagine if Prince Charming had picked up the glass slipper and decided the city was too big to scour it for someone who fit the damn thing? Or if Prince Phillip saw Maleficent blowing fire all over the forest and went nope, fuck that, too risky? Or if Prince Eric was all like, “Hmm, I could fight the giant octopus sea witch from my nightmares, but then I could also sail home and return to eating fish I now know are sentient, safe in denial and cognitive goddamn dissonance!”? But they wouldn’t, they wouldn’t have done any of that, because in stories guys fight. They fight for the person they care about, and they don't give up, ever.

Did you want to change into something more comfortable?” Adrian asks with a raise in his eyebrows, breaking me out of my train of thought, but not away from naughty thoughts. I smack his knee. “I'm comfortable, but I know you're not.” He doesn't mind dressing up, but on most days I see him in casual clothes like screen-printed tees and hoodies. “You're right,” he says, tapping my knee lightly, standing up. As he walks toward the hallway, he slips his shirt off the rest of the way. I can't look away from the sight, even if it is only from the back. Damn. What is happening to me? Have I gone mad? Before I can tear my eyes away from him, he turns around. Judging by the look in his eyes, I've been caught. I have so been caught. Damn again. I didn't want him to see me practically drooling. It's too late for that now. He smirks. “You know, I could spend the rest of the night just like this.” He places a hand to the hard muscles of his chest. I clear my throat, trying really hard not to imagine my hand in place of his, and say, “If I'm wearing clothes, you're wearing clothes.” “So if I'm not wearing clothes...” I grab a coaster from the coffee table and fling it at him. He catches it in his hand. “Just remember, all you have to do is say otherwise.

That's the problem with college kids. I blame Hollywood for skewing their perspective. Life is just a big romantic comedy to them, and if you meet cute, happily-ever-after is a foregone conclusion. So there we were, the pretty blond girl milking her very slight congenital limp in order to seem damaged and more interesting, and the nervous boy with the ridiculous hair trying so hard to be clever, the two of us hypnotized by the syncopated rhythms of our furiously beating hearts and throbbing loins. That stupid, desperate, horny kid I was, standing obliviously on the fault line of embryonic love, when really, what he should have been doing was running for his life.

I do not pretend, of course, that I have never done it; mere politeness forces one to it; there are women who sulk and grow bellicose unless one at least makes the motions of kissing them. But what I mean is that I have never found the act a tenth part as agreeable as poets, the authors of musical comedy librettos, and (on the contrary side) chaperones and the gendarmerie make it out. The physical sensation, far from being pleasant, is intensely uncomfortable—the suspension of respiration, indeed, quickly resolves itself into a feeling of suffocation—and the posture necessitated by the approximation of lips and lips is unfailingly a constrained and ungraceful one. Theoretically, a man kisses a woman perpendicularly, with their eyes, those "windows of the soul," synchronizing exactly. But actually, on account of the incompressibility of the nasal cartilages, he has to incline either his or her head to an angle of at least 60 degrees, and the result is that his right eye gazes insanely at the space between her eyebrows, while his left eye is fixed upon some vague spot behind her. An instantaneous photograph of such a maneuvre, taken at the moment of incidence, would probably turn the stomach of even the most romantic man, and force him, in sheer self-respect, to renounce kissing as he has renounced leap-frog and walking on stilts.

Now give me some advice about how to take full advantage of this city. I’m always looking to improve my odds.” “Just what I’d expect from a horny actuary.” “I’m serious.” Carlos reflected for a moment on the problem at hand. He actually had never needed or tried to take full advantage of the city in order to meet women, but he thought about all of his friends who regularly did. His face lit up as he thought of some helpful advice: “Get into the arts.” “The arts?” “Yeah.” “But I’m not artistic.” “It doesn’t matter. Many women are into the arts. Theater. Painting. Dance. They love that stuff.” “You want me to get into dance? Earthquakes have better rhythm than me…And can you really picture me in those tights?” “Take an art history class. Learn photography. Get involved in a play or an independent film production. Get artsy, Sammy. I’m telling you, the senoritas dig that stuff.” “Really?” “Yeah. You need to sign up for a bunch of artistic activities. But you can’t let on that it’s all just a pretext to meet women. You have to take a real interest in the subject or they’ll quickly sniff out your game.” “I don’t know…It’s all so foreign to me…I don’t know the first thing about being artistic.” “Heeb, this is the time to expand your horizons. And you’re in the perfect city to do it. New York is all about reinventing yourself. Get out of your comfort zones. Become more of a Renaissance man. That’s much more interesting to women.

Speaking of body decorations, I luuhhhvv your belly piercing!” Heeb said, looking at the gold ring in the center of her slim, tan waist. Despite the artic cold, Angelina had opted for a skin tight, black tube top that ended just above her belly, on the assumption that a warm cab, a winter coat, and a short wait to get into the club was an adequate frosty weather strategy. Heeb was still reverently staring at her belly when Angelina finally caught her breath from laughing. “Do you really like it? You’re just saying that so that you can check out my belly!” “And what’s so bad about that? I mean, didn’t you get that belly piercing so that people would check out your belly?” “No. I just thought it would look cool…Do you have any piercings?” “Actually, I do,” Heeb replied. “Where?” “My appendix.” “Huh?” “I wanted to be the first guy with a pierced organ. And the appendix is a totally useless organ anyway, so I figured why the hell not?” “That’s pretty original,” she replied, amused. “Oh yeah. I’ve outdone every piercing fanatic out there. The only problem is when I have to go through metal detectors at the airport.” Angelina burst into laughs again, and then managed to say, “Don’t you have to take it out occasionally for a cleaning?” “Nah. I figure I’ll just get it removed when my appendix bursts. It’ll be a two for one operation, if you know what I mean.

The rain is colder than I expect—which is ridiculous, since it’s March. My cheeks are freezing by the time we go two blocks, my hair has a sodden weight on my shoulder. My glasses are so wet I need to shove them in a pocket. I threw Mom’s pullover windbreaker over my sweatshirt before leaving the house, thinking it would be waterproof, but I am so wrong. By the time I make the final turn for the church, I wonder if I’m stupid for being out here. It’s pouring so hard that a haze has formed around the streetlight, and I can barely see anything through the darkness. My sneakers squish in the grass. I get to the spot where we sat for the last two nights. And of course he’s not there. I sigh. Only a complete moron would go meet in the rain. Then Texy woofs and bounces on her front paws. I turn, and it’s like I’m in a chick flick. His shadowed figure lopes across the grass. Okay, maybe the dark and rain make it more like a horror movie than a romantic comedy, BUT STILL. He draws to a stop in front of me. He had the sense to wear a heavy, waterproof coat over his hoodie, but the hood is soaked and rain drips down his cheeks. “Hey,” he says, his voice a little loud over the rain. I’m blushing. I tell my cheeks to knock it off. “Hey.” “I wasn’t sure you’d show up, but I didn’t have a way to text you …” “I had the same thought process.

So . . . for some reason we thought you were the guys assigned to Ms. Lynde’s surveillance. Guess we were mistaken?” “Nope, you got it right,” Kamin said. “We do the night shift. Nice girl. We talk a lot on the way to the gym.” “Oh. Then I guess Agent Wilkins and I are just curious why you two are here instead of with her.” Kamin waved this off. “It’s cool. We did a switcheroo with another cop, see?” “A switcheroo . . . right. Remind me again how that works?” Jack asked. “It’s because she’s got this big date tonight,” Kamin explained. Jack cocked his head. “A date?” Phelps chimed in. “Yeah, you know—with Max-the-investment-banker-she-met-on-the-Bloomingdales-escalator.” “I must’ve missed that one.” “Oh, it’s a great story,” Kamin assured him. “She crashed into him coming off the escalator and when her shopping bag spilled open, he told her he liked her shoes.” “Ah . . . the Meet Cute,” Wilkins said with a grin. Jack threw him a sharp look. “What did you just say?” “You know, the Meet Cute.” Wilkins explained. “In romantic comedies, that’s what they call the moment when the man and woman first meet.” He rubbed his chin, thinking this over. “I don’t know, Jack . . . if she’s had her Meet Cute with another man that does not bode well for you.” Jack nearly did a double take as he tried to figure out what the hell that was supposed to mean. Phelps shook his head. “Nah, I wouldn’t go that far. She’s still on the fence about this guy. He’s got problems keeping his job from intruding on his personal life. But she’s feeling a lot of pressure with Amy’s wedding—she’s only got about ten days left to get a date.” “She’s the maid of honor, see?” Kamin said. Jack stared at all three of them. Their lips were moving and sound was coming out, but it was like they were speaking a different language. Kamin turned to Phelps. “Frankly, I think she should just go with Collin, since he and Richard broke up.” “Yeah, but you heard what she said. She and Collin need to stop using each other as a crutch. It’s starting to interfere with their other relationships.” Unbelievable. Jack ran a hand through his hair, tempted to tear it out. But then he’d have a bald spot to thank Cameron Lynde for, and that would piss him off even more. “Can we get back to the switcheroo part?” “Right, sorry. It was Slonsky’s suggestion. 

was an English poet and playwright, widely regarded as the greatest writer in the English language and the world's pre-eminent dramatist. He is often called England's national poet and the "Bard of Avon" (or simply "The Bard"). His surviving works consist of 38 plays, 154 sonnets, two long narrative poems, and several other poems. His plays have been translated into every major living language, and are performed more often than those of any other playwright. Shakespeare was born and raised in Stratford-upon-Avon. At the age of 18 he married Anne Hathaway, who bore him three children: Susanna, and twins Hamnet and Judith. Between 1585 and 1592 he began a successful career in London as an actor, writer, and part owner of the playing company the Lord Chamberlain's Men, later known as the King's Men. He appears to have retired to Stratford around 1613, where he died three years later. Few records of Shakespeare's private life survive, and there has been considerable speculation about such matters as his sexuality, religious beliefs, and whether the works attributed to him were written by others. Shakespeare produced most of his known work between 1590 and 1613. His early plays were mainly comedies and histories, genres he raised to the peak of sophistication and artistry by the end of the sixteenth century. Next he wrote mainly tragedies until about 1608, including Hamlet, King Lear, and Macbeth, considered some of the finest examples in the English language. In his last phase, he wrote tragicomedies, also known as romances, and collaborated with other playwrights. Many of his plays were published in editions of varying quality and accuracy during his lifetime, and in 1623 two of his former theatrical colleagues published the First Folio, a collected edition of his dramatic works that included all but two of the plays now recognised as Shakespeare's. Shakespeare was a respected poet and playwright in his own day, but his reputation did not rise to its present heights until the nineteenth century. The Romantics, in particular, acclaimed Shakespeare's genius, and the Victorians hero-worshipped Shakespeare with a reverence that George Bernard Shaw called "bardolatry". In the twentieth century, his work was repeatedly adopted and rediscovered by new movements in scholarship and performance. His plays remain highly popular today and are consistently performed and reinterpreted in diverse cultural and political contexts throughout the world. Source: Wikipedia