Tryst Quotes

If anyone had told him at that moment that he had fallen in love, that he was passionately in love, he would have rejected the idea with surprise and perhaps with indignation. And if anyone had added that Aglaia's letter was a love-letter, arranging a tryst with a lover, he would have been hotly ashamed of such a man, and would perhaps have challenged him to a duel. All this was perfectly sincere, and he never once doubted it, or admitted the slightest 'double' thought of a possibility of the girl's loving him or even of his loving her. He would have been ashamed of such an idea. The possibility of love for him, 'for such a man as he was,' he would have looked upon as a monstrous thing. He fancied that, if it really meant anything, it was only mischief on her part. ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky

My affair with Trudy isn't going well. I thought I could take her love for granted. But I've heard biologists debating at dawn. Pregnant mothers must fight the tenants of their wombs. Nature, a mother herself, ordains a struggle for resources that may be needed to nurture my future sibling rivals. My health derives from Trudy, but she must preserve herself against me. So why would she worry about my feelings? If it's in her interests and those of some unconceived squit that I should be undernourished, why trouble herself if a tryst with my uncle upsets me? ~ Ian McEwan

They glided past, they glided fast,
Like travellers through a mist:
They mocked the moon in a rigadoon
Of delicate turn and twist,
And with formal pace and loathsome grace
The phantoms kept their tryst ~ Oscar Wilde

I'm glad we can be friends.
There's that word again. It's like a safe word. ~ Alex Rosa

I mean, aren't we all tormented by past relationships? ~ Alex Rosa

He's been known to steal a kiss under the branches of that big oak, too. You'd never know it to look at him, but my Arthur can be quite the man of passion." Nicole giggled, charmed by the idea of the staid butler sharing a passionate embrace with his wife in such a setting. "I can't imagine a better place for a tryst. It's a shame I don't have a beau to share it with." The housekeeper's expression sharpened an instant before the dust rag resumed its fluttering - a fluttering that seemed rather more frantic than necessary. "So you have no young man paying court to you? Hard to believe, as pretty as you are." Nicole blushed and became suddenly fascinated with the logbook in front of her. "Not yet," she said, fingering the pages, "but my father has a few prospects in mind. ~ Karen Witemeyer

It takes it out of you, writing with heart. And it was just for me really. Sort of a confirmation to myself that my inner diva can still make love to the keyboard when she's in the mood. I have to keep her roped and gagged when I'm writing for the newspapers. They don't like her at all. They don't want love. They want a quick tryst in a motel room that's forgotten in a few hours. ~ Colin Cotterill

The director mentions the whispers about Clifton's sexual orientation, a supposed gig on a porn site years ago, a rumor about a very famous actor and a tryst in Santa Barbara and Clifton's denial in a Rolling Stone cover story about the very famous actor's new movie which Clifton had a small part in: 'We're so into girls it's ridiculous. ~ Bret Easton Ellis

For most affairs, this eventually becomes the most fundamental of questions, the only one that matters: Do we love each other more than the lives we already have? It is the question that hovers in the background of every secret phone call, flavors every tryst with the head of possibilities of apocalypse and renewal; and it is the answer to that question, or the lack thereof, that so often dooms an affair to failure. ~ Brady Udall

Brightly and merrily swaying, like an April shower, came the young lady.

Perhaps if she had been sad and conscience stricken, like certain dames of old who left the site of their illicit love as woe-begone as the passing moment that never returns; if the lady had approached in full cognizance of her frailty, ready to forego a man's respectful handkisses of greeting, and trembling in shame at the tryst exposed in broad daylight, like Risoulette, sixty-six times, whenever having misbehaved, she hastened back home teary-eyed to her Captain; or if a lifelong memory's untearable veil had floated over her fine features, like the otherworldly wimple of a nun . . . Then Pistoli would have stood aside, closed his eyes, swallowed the bitter pill, and come next winter, might have scrawled on the wall something about women's unpredictability. Then he would have glimpsed ghostly, skeletal pelvic bones reflected in his wine goblet, and strands of female hair, once wrapped around the executioner's wrist, hanging from his rafters; and would have heard wails and cackles emanating from the cellar's musty wine casks, but eventually Pistoli would have forgiven this fading memory, simply because women are related to the sea and the moon, and that is why at times they know not what they do. ~ Gyula Krudy

Being older, I began to understand the lyrics. At the beginning, it sounds like a guy is trying to get his girlfriend to secretly meet up with him at midnight. But it's an odd place for a tryst, a hanging tree, where a man was hung for murder. The murderer's lover must have had something to do with the killing, or maybe they were just going to punish her anyway, because his corpse called out for her to flee. That's weird obviously, the talking-corpse bit, but it's not until the third verse that "The Hanging Tree" begins to get unnerving. You realize the singer of the song is the dead murderer. He's still in the hanging tree. And even though he told his lover to flee, he keeps asking if she's coming to meet him. The phrase Where I told you to run, so we'd both be free is the most troubling because at first you think he's talking about when he told her to flee, presumably to safety. But then you wonder if he meant for her to run to him. To death. In the final stanza, it's clear that that's what he was waiting for. His lover, with her rope necklace, hanging dead next to him in the tree.

I used to think the murderer was the creepiest guy imaginable. Now, with a couple of trips to the Hunger Games under my belt, I decide not to judge him without knowing more details. Maybe his lover was already sentenced to death and he was trying to make it easier. To let her know he'd be waiting. Or maybe he thought the place he was leaving her was really worse than death. Didn't I wa ~ Suzanne Collins

Eros had slept soundly after the tryst with his lovely secretary at the Paradise Hotel.And as his wife, Helen,slept beside him snoring, he was conscious of the fact that his body was reeking with the aroma of Psyche`s Nectar.In spite of his having scrubbed away all possible tell-tale signs of any indiscretion on his part.However, Helen had noticed nothing, he told himself, so it must be his own imagination, or perhaps, guilty conscience.Yet, he had not committed adultery with his secretary, he assured himself.All he had was a wonderful meal. So he had not betrayed Helen. He had not sinned.[MMT] ~ Nicholas Chong

Had his room been facing west he would have noted the sparkling twenty-five-mile vista to the sea which looks almost like the Mediterranean. He would have noted how the streets of L.A. undulate over short hills as though a finger is poking the landscape from underneath. How laid over this crosshatch are streets meandering on the diagonal creating a multitude of ways to get from one place to another by traveling along the hypotenuse. These are the avenues of the tryst which enable Acting Student A to travel the eighteen miles across town to Acting Student B's garage apartment in nine minutes flat after a hot-blooded phone call at midnight. Had he been facing seaward on a balcony overlooking the city the writer might have heard drifting out of a tiny apartment window the optimistic voice of a shower singer imbued with the conviction that this is a place where it is possible to be happy. ~ Steve Martin

The streets of L.A. undulate over short hills as though a finger is poking the landscape from underneath ... laid over this crosshatch are streets meandering on the diagonal creating a multitude of ways to get from one place to another by traveling along the hypotenuse. These are the avenues of the tryst which enable Acting Student A to travel the eighteen miles across town to Acting Student B's garage apartment in nine minutes flat after a hot-blooded phone call at midnight. ~ Steve Martin

Before Rohan could reply, a new voice entered the conversation. "What's this?"
It was Leo, who had just arisen from bed and pulled on his clothes. He came barefoot from the direction of his bedroom. His bleary gaze moved over the pair of them.
"Why are you on the floor with your buttons undone?"
Amelia considered the question. "I decided to have a spontaneous tryst in the middle of the hallway with a man I hardly know."
"Well, try to be quiet about it next time. A fellow needs his sleep."
Amelia stared at him quizzically. "For heaven's sake, Leo, aren't you worried that I may have been compromised?"
"Were you?"
"I ... " Her face turned hot as she glanced into Rohan's vivid topaz eyes. "I don't think so."
"If you're not sure about it," Leo said, "you probably weren't. ~ Lisa Kleypas

Um, well, I've been working out with Alex. Today just happened to be right after our workout," Craig admits finally.
"Really," I say dripping with sarcasm. "And you failed to mention this earlier? You ran off so abruptly for your tryst. I should've suspected something illicit was occurring."
Alex erupts in laughter looking at Craig. "You didn't tell her. ~ Isabelle Joshua

Last Will

Prologue:
We, Sacco and Vanzetti, sound of body and mind,
Devise and bequeath to all we leave behind,
The worldly wealth we inherited at our birth,
Each one to share alike as we leave this earth.

To Wit:
To babies we will their mothers' love,
To youngsters we will the sun above.
To spooners who wont to tryst the night,
We give the moon and stars that shine so bright.
To thrill them in their hours of joy,
When boy hugs maid and maid hugs boy.
To nature's creatures we allot the spring and summer,
To the doe, the bear, the gold-finch and the hummer.
To the fishes we ascribe the deep blue sea,
The honey we apportion to the bustling bee.
To the pessimist - good cheer - his mind to sooth,
To the chronic liar we donate the solemn truth.

And Lastly:

To those who judge solely seeking renown,
With blaring trumpets of the fakir and clown;
To the prosecutor, persecutor, and other human hounds,
Who'd barter another's honor, recognizing no bounds,
To the Governor, the Jury, who another's life they'd sell -
We endow them with the fiery depths of HELL!

(Industrial Worker, Aug. 20, 1927) ~ Nicola Sacco

As our kissing progresses, I don't care that our tryst seems raunchy and wrong. I don't care that I'm at school, in the boy's bathroom. I don't care that to most people this would seem cheap, dirty, and despicable. The only thing I can think about while he kisses me deeper, harder, faster, is that Henry Garner is the plague and the only thing I want him to do is infect me. ~ Lauren Hammond

It has been said that art is a tryst; for in the joy of it, maker and beholder meet. ~ Kojiro Tomita

Bootie Grant Glover! You do amaze me!" Mem stared at her sister. "Do I understand this? You're giving me permission to engage in a romantic tryst?"
"Certainly not!" Bootie pulled to her full diminished height. "I'm merely saying if disaster strikes, I won't abandon you. ~ Maggie Osborne

Two things compel me to move. First, the fear of being alone. I don't want to be alone here. Second, the aching need to beat Blake in any way. ~ Alex Rosa

The home is a tryst-the place where we retire and shut the world out. ~ Elbert Hubbard

He doesn't let me argue further as he returns to his room. I pray for my sanity that he clothes himself, because the last thing I need is the image of Blake's naked torso dripping in sweat. ~ Alex Rosa

The truth is, I always want to kiss you. ~ Alex Rosa

We are all trying to get over the person who broke our hearts. We are all far from perfect. ~ Alex Rosa

The Song of the Defeated
My master has bid me while I stand at the roadside,
to sing the song of Defeat,
for that is the bride whom He woos in secret.
She has put on the dark veil,
hiding her face from the crowd,
but the jewel glows on her breast in the dark.
She is forsaken of the day,
and God's night is waiting for her with its lamps lighted and flowers wet with dew.
She is silent with her eyes downcast;
she has left her home behind her,
from her home has come that wailing in the wind.
But the stars are singing the love-song of the eternal to a face sweet with shame and suffering.
The door has been opened in the lonely chamber,
the call has sounded,
and the heart of the darkness throbs with awe
because of the coming tryst. ~ Rabindranath Tagore

I almost feel bad for declining, but I feel more terrible that I can't stop looking at how his chest rises and falls with each of his frustrated breaths. ~ Alex Rosa

The moment my bare feet make contact with the wood floor, my breath catches in my throat. Blake swivels his body around to greet me.
"Morning, roomie."
His voice is like a shot of caffeine that ignites my body. How does he do that? ~ Alex Rosa

As she passed the door to Gray's study, a familiar, muscled arm shot out into the corridor, catching her by the waist.
Laughing, she stumbled into the room, quickly finding herself caught between cool walnut paneling at her back and the hot, solid wall of man before her. Ever since their wedding-or since the Kestrel storeroom, more likely-Gray seemed to find it an irresistible challenge, to catch her unawares in an unlikely location and pull her into a feverish embrace.
Sophia had no wish to discourage the habit, but this wasn't the ideal time for a tryst. "Gray," she chided between kisses, "what are you about? The housekeeper said there was an urgent matter requiring my attention."
"And so there is. I require your attention. Most urgently." His hand slid to her bottom, and he lifted her easily, pinning her to the wall with his hips. The beaded ridges of the wainscoting dug into her spine. "Don't think we've used this room yet," he murmured, nibbling at the curve of her neck.
"I'm entertaining," she protested.
"Yes, you are," he said, grinding against her. "Highly entertaining."
Sophia sighed with pleasurable frustration. "I mean, I have a guest. Lady Kendall's in the salon, with Bel." She levered her arm against his chest, carving out some space between them. "And I thought you were at your shipping office."
"Yes, well…" Mischief gleamed sharp in his eyes. "I decided to go riding instead. ~ Tessa Dare

I chew my food, leaning back into the couch. "I loved him. That's what dumb girls do."
"You aren't dumb."
I try to hold back my smile. "I'm hanging out with you, aren't I? ~ Alex Rosa

Tanya, I can not tell you how Leningrad looks today. I used to say that Paris is the most beautiful in the world, and now I am ashamed. every time I come to Russia I'll bring you flowers. And as is our only tryst lost, wasted, gone, I give you my word that I will teach my children to hate war and to be good people. Secondly, apart from vodka, except the tears, I do not know how. ~ Miroslav Antic

When he came back, I hid my face within my hands. He said: "Fear nothing. Who has seen our kiss?
Who saw us? The night and the moon."
"And the stars and the first flush of dawn. The moon has seen its visage in the lake, and told it to the water 'neath the willows. The water told it to the rower's oar.
"And the oar has told it to the boat, and the boat has passed the secret to the fisher. Alas! alas! if that were only all! But the fisher told the secret to a woman.
"The fisher told the secret to a woman: my father and my mother and my sisters, and all of Hellas now shall know the tale. ~ Pierre Louis

A wicked curve appears on his lips. No, you're wrong. I'm allowed to say whatever I want. What I'm not allowed to do is what I want. ~ Alex Rosa

The Trifler

Death's the lover that I'd be taking;
Wild and fickle and fierce is he.
Small's his care if my heart be breaking-
Gay young Death would have none of me.

Hear them clack of my haste to greet him!
No one other my mouth had kissed.
I had dressed me in silk to meet him-
False young Death would not hold the tryst.

Slow's the blood that was quick and stormy,
Smooth and cold is the bridal bed;
I must wait till he whistles for me-
Proud young Death would not turn his head.

I must wait till my breast is wilted.
I must wait till my back is bowed,
I must rock in the corner, jilted-
Death went galloping down the road.

Gone's my heart with a trifling rover.
Fine he was in the game he played-
Kissed, and promised, and threw me over,
And rode away with a prettier maid. ~ Dorothy Parker