Titanic Romantic Quotes

Love knows no boundaries. I wish I would have known that before I hired a cartographer to map out my romantic territory.

ROSE: I love you, Jack. JACK: No...don’t say your goodbyes, Rose. Don’t you give up. Don’t do it. ROSE: I’m so cold. JACK: You’re going to get out of this...you’re going to go on and you’re going to make babies and watch them grow and you’re going to die an old lady, warm in your bed. Not here...Not this night. Do you understand me? ROSE: I can’t feel my body. JACK: Rose, listen to me. Winning that ticket was the best thing that ever happened to me. It brought me to you. And I’m thankful, Rose. I’m thankful. You must do me this honor...promise me you will survive....that you will never give up...not matter what happens...no matter how hopeless...promise me now, and never let go of that promise. ROSE: I promise. JACK: Never let go. ROSE: I promise. I will never let go, Jack. I’ll never let go.

Bianca, camp is cool! It's got a pegasus stable and a sword-fighting arena and… I mean, what do you get by joining the Hunters?" To begin with," Zoe said, "immortality." I stared at her, then at Artemis. "She's kidding, right?" Zoe rarely kids about anything," Artemis said. "My Hunters follow me on my adventures. They are my maidservants, my companions, my sisters-in-arms. Once they swear loyalty to me, they are indeed immortal… unless they fall in battle, which is unlikely. Or break their oath." What oath?" I said. To foreswear romantic love forever," Artemis said. To never grow up, never get married. To be a maiden eternally." Like you?" The goddess nodded. I tried to imagine what she was saying. Being immortal. Hanging out with only middle-school girls forever. I couldn't get my mind around it.

What were you thinking when we were holding hands diagonally?" I ask. Jeff says, "I was thinking, 'It's going to be so hard for her when she chooses not to get on that lifeboat and stay with me.'" I decide I can't start this marriage with a lie. "Really?" I say. "'Cause I was thinking that it was going to be so hard for you when I got on the lifeboat and you had to stay behind." He is appalled. I plead my case. "Remember when we saw Titanic how mad I was at Kate Winslet when she climbed out of the lifeboat and back into the ship? I think she encumbered Leonardo DiCaprio. If she had gone on the lifeboat, then he could have had that piece of wood she was floating on and they both would have survived. I would never do that to you." I wait for his response, hoping that in the twenty-first century romantic love can be defined as not lying about your plans to get on the lifeboat and remembering to get your partner some pills. He just laughs. With that settled, we begin our married life.

That sounded so incredibly romantic. Of course, Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet had thought the same thing in Titanic. And look how that had ended.

To foreswear romantic love forever. To never grow up, never get married. To be maiden eternally.

Friendly fire was never friendly, and it was coming. Operation Stand-and-Watch was over. Did that mean Operation Bust-His-Balls was on deck?

God must think her a badass because he’d handed her this moment, and he didn’t dole out shit she couldn’t handle. That was a fact taught long ago by that miserable bitch called life.

He didn’t touch her. He didn’t have to. Tingles exploded down her neck, shooting toward her navel.

What are you? The pregnant MacGyver?” “Best compliment I’ve had in a while.

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

I thought you were more like GI Joe, but now that I know about the cape, you sound more like Superman." Mia Kensington to Colby Winters

Whatever you guys call it. Man up. Get your panties out of a wad. Put on your big boy shorts. Grow a set.

It would be difficult to tell," Wulf said. "I've always been a romantic. I've seen Casablanca twice, and I sat through the entire ordeal of Titanic". "Didn't you enjoy Titanic?" "I was relieved when the ship went down".

You’re going to let her wander into someone else’s arms? There’s another man who could protect her better than you? Well, if that’s true—

You’ve been drinking. Let’s go before I become the asshole prick you think I am.

In the span of one night, Jenny had gone from being someone he refused to touch to the woman he refused to stay away from.

I want us to be more spontaneous. I want the superhero to come home and take me. Nothing to do with being his wife. Everything to do with uncontrollable testosterone.

Oh for Christ sakes. Ay carrumba, chimichanga. I have no idea what you’re saying, but shut your pretty pie hole.

There’s no other way to look at you. You’re the definition of beauty.

You know what? I don’t care about everyone. I never even cared about me. I cared about you.

Eyes locked, they stared. She felt bleeding pain down to her soul.

That’ll be like catching Niagara fucking Falls with a fly net.

He was the gorgeous one, brute strength wrapped into one sex god of a man.

...My father muttered something to me, and I responded with a mumbled "What". He shouted, "You heard me," thundered up from his chair, pulled his belt out of its loops, and inflicted a beating that seemed never to end. I curled my arms around my body as he stood over me like a titan and delivered the blows. This was the only incident of its kind in our family. My father was never physically abusive toward my mother or sister and he was never again physically extreme with me. However, this beating and his worsening tendency to rages directed at my mother - which I heard in fright through the thin walls of our home - made me resolve, with icy determination, that only the most formal relationship would exist between my father and me, and for perhaps thirty years, neither he nor I did anything to repair the rift. The rest of my childhood, we hardly spoke; there was little he said to me that was not critical, and there was little I said back that was not terse or mumbled. When I graduated from high school, he offered to buy me a tuxedo. I refused because I had learned from him to reject all aid and assistance; he detested extravagance and pleaded with us not to give him gifts. I felt, through a convoluted logic, that in my refusal, I was being a good son. I wish now that I had let him buy me a tuxedo, that I had let him be a dad. Having cut myself off from him, and by association the rest of the family, I was incurring psychological debts that would come due years later in the guise of romantic misconnections and a wrongheaded quest for solitude. I have heard it said that a complicated childhood can lead to a life in the arts. I tell you this story of my father and me to let you know I am qualified to be a comedian.

And now I can’t breathe for wanting you. I woke up, and your eyes were on fire. You haven’t looked at me like that in years. All need. All want.

People do man-candy model shoots that don’t look nearly a tenth as orgasm-worthy as you right now.

God, woman.” He closed his fist, not bothering to count off the dozens of other things she shouldn’t do. “You give me heartburn.” “No. Those are orgasms I give you, baby.

He walked right to her, his long strides eating the space between them and sucking the oxygen in front of her

Chocolate cake and a diamond ring? In bed with the man of my dreams?

A kiss unlike any other kiss. There was no denying that.

She giggled. Giggled. Her cheeks pinked, and goddamn, if this plane didn’t get to the gate and un-board them, he was going to pull the emergency hatch.

Your booty call embargo will remain intact.

Oh, a grenade. But where is the bamboo bazooka?

In love, in other words, those phases are present, in its content, which we cited as the fundamental essence of the absolute Spirit: the reconciled return out of another into self. By being the other in which the spirit remains communing with itself, this other can only be spiritual over again, a spiritual personality. The true essence of love consists in giving up the consciousness of oneself, forgetting oneself in another self, yet in this surrender and oblivion having and possessing oneself alone. This reconciliation of the spirit with itself and the completion of itself to a totality is the Absolute, yet not, as may be supposed, in the sense that the Absolute as a purely singular and therefore finite subject coincides with itself in another finite subject; on the contrary, the content of the subjectivity which reconciles itself with itself in another is here the Absolute itself: the Spirit which only in another spirit is the knowing and willing of itself as the Absolute and has the satisfaction of this knowledge. In love, on the contrary, the spirit’s opposite is not nature but itself a spiritual consciousness, another person, and the spirit is therefore realized for itself in what it itself owns, in its very own element. So in this affirmative satisfaction and blissful reality at rest in itself, love is the ideal but purely spiritual beauty which on account of its inwardness can also be expressed only in and as the deep feeling of the heart. For the spirit which is present to itself and immediately sure of itself in [another] spirit, and therefore has the spiritual itself as the material and ground of its existence, is in itself, is depth of feeling, and, more precisely, is the spiritual depth of love. (α) God is love and therefore his deepest essence too is to be apprehended and represented in this form adequate to art in Christ. But Christ is divine love; as its object, what is manifest is on the one hand God himself in his invisible essence, and, on the other, mankind which is to be redeemed; and thus what then comes into appearance in Christ is less the absorption of one person in another limited person than the Idea of love in its universality, the Absolute, the spirit of truth in the element and form of feeling. With this universality of love’s object, love’s expression is also universalized, with the result that the subjective concentration of heart and soul does not become the chief thing in that expression – just as, even in the case of the Greeks, what is emphasized, although in a totally different context, in Venus Urania[8] and the old Titanic deity, Eros, is the universal Idea and not the subjective element, i.e. individual shape and feeling. Only when Christ is conceived in the portrayals of romantic art as more than an individual subject, immersed in himself, does the expression of love become conspicuous in the form of subjective deep feeling, always elevated and borne, however, by the universality of its content.

You don’t…,” she started to say, but a lump was growing in her throat faster than she could squeeze the words out around it. “You don’t need me.” Another pause. Another flurry of static. Another painful thump against her heart. And then came a voice she’d only ever heard in her dreams. “I do,” said Marcellus. “I’ve always needed you. From the moment I first saw you in that morgue. With that giant ripped hood covering your face. With those impossible gray eyes staring back at me. Don’t you get it, Chatine? You’re the reason I’m here right now. Something happened to me that day. You happened to me. You changed everything. You woke me up. You made me see the world for what it really was. A miserable place that could turn innocent girls like you into criminals. A rain-soaked planet painted over with fake Sols and a shiny titan gloss. You pulled it all away from my eyes. And now that I’ve seen that world, I can’t stop seeing it. I can’t ignore it. I have to do whatever I can to change it. Not for me. My life was a dreamscape compared to yours. Compared to the lives of all of these people around me. I have to do it for them. For you.” Chatine felt her knees giving out. Felt her resolve giving up. She slid down onto the damp, rocky bluff, while the Secana Sea winds swirled and stabbed and buffeted against her coat. She sat with the radio clutched to her chest, Marcellus’s words pouring out of it. Pouring into her.

A woman's heart is a deep ocean of secrets..." Rose ~Titanic

The other notable dissenter was playwright George Bernard Shaw, who wittily and acerbically expressed his view that the whole Titanic story had been created in the press to fit a rigid formula, which he called “an explosion of outrageous romantic lying.” The band playing on deck was, according to Shaw, part of the preordained story. He didn’t deny that it happened but offered a different interpretation of events. Possibly, he suggested, the music produced complacency rather than courage and therefore was in part responsible for the high death toll. What he referred to as “the romantic demand” was that “Everybody must face death without a tremor, and the band, according to the Birkenhead precedent,3 must play ‘Nearer, My God, to Thee.

come to the palace more often. Rhea would teach me to be a better Titan. Life would be awesome! But another part of him thought, No! I can’t get married, because of that stupid curse! Kronos grumbled in frustration. He was the king of the freaking universe! He could do whatever he wanted! Maybe Ouranos had just been messing with him and there was no curse. Or maybe he would get lucky and he wouldn’t have kids. Note to self: If you’re trying not to have kids, don’t marry a lady who is the Titan of motherhood. Kronos tried to restrain himself, but finally he couldn’t stand it any longer. He invited Rhea to a romantic dinner and poured out his feelings. He proposed to her on the spot. Now, I don’t know if Rhea loved the guy or not. If she didn’t, I imagine she was too afraid to say so. This was Kronos the Crooked One, after all—

By 2000, RMS Titanic Inc. had returned to the site four more times, using French or Russian submersibles. In a game of Finders Keepers, they pocketed more than 6,000 artifacts and displayed them in a museum, charging people to see them. The company even broadcast a documentary showing how it took the objects. All told, the items included eyeglasses, shoes, handbags, luggage, and even a bronze cherub statue from the Grand Staircase. A bell and a light from the foremast were removed, and the salvagers even raised a chunk of the hull weighing 18 tons. They sold pieces of coal from the engine room for $25 a block. They created a website, so you could peruse the collections online. Documentary filmmakers and wealthy sightseers visited the site in mini-subs. And, perhaps most grotesque of all, a couple were married in a submersible perched on Titanic’s bow. I wouldn’t think of a mass grave as romantic, but I guess some couples are into that.

We need you to come home.

Holy swoonballs!

Had I gone through two heartbreaks to end up with this? This was the hero of the movie of my life? Because, hello, I've grown up thinking I'm starring in DDLJ. Or Titanic. Or at least Bride and Prejudice . And all the time it's actually been Dunston Checks In.

The words ‘lost civilization of Atlantis’ are muttered. This is how many modern Europeans like to think of their earlier selves – peaceable, artistic, liberated and romantically doomed – a story that is half-Eden and half the Titanic. But it is almost all bull.

What were you thinking when we were holding hands diagonally?” I ask. Jeff says, “I was thinking, ‘It’s going to be so hard for her when she chooses not to get on that lifeboat and stay with me.’ ” I decide I can’t start this marriage with a lie. “Really?” I say. “ ’Cause I was thinking that it was going to be so hard for you when I got on the lifeboat and you had to stay behind.” He is appalled. I plead my case. “Remember when we saw Titanic how mad I was at Kate Winslet when she climbed out of the lifeboat and back onto the ship? I think she encumbered Leonardo DiCaprio. If she had gone on the lifeboat, then he could have had that piece of wood she was floating on and they both would have survived. I would never do that to you.” I wait for his response, hoping that in the twenty-first century romantic love can be defined as not lying about your plans to get on the lifeboat and remembering to get your partner some pills. He just laughs. With that settled, we begin our married life.