“You’ll wonder how, and you wouldn’t have a clue.”
–Vandana, my ex-roommate and favorite contemporary poet.
Tag Archives: Romance
“You pierce my soul. I’m half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I’m too late. […] For you alone I think and plan.”
–Captain Wentworth, in the best-loved love-letter of all time in Jane Austen’s ‘Persuasion’.
Do you ever feel that you’re an anachronism? That you’d rather have been born in a time and place where romance was simpler and yet more complex than now? I get that whenever I watch or read period romances. Like I’ve been doing for the past few days. I started with ‘The Lizzie Bennet Diaries’, moved on to ‘Lost in Austen‘, then watched all the four episodes of BBC’s adaptation of ‘North and South’, got worm-holed (my friend V’s expression, I hope you don’t mind me borrowing, V!) into watching my favorite scenes of ‘Emma’ (Jonny Lee Miller playing the gorgeously correct Mr. Knightly), and rounded up by watching Ciaran Hind in ‘Persuasion’. And WOW! I just can’t ever get enough of historical romances in general and Jane Austen in particular.
Amanda Price, I totally empathize with you!
“Not a heartbeat will I forget.”
–Mr. Darcy, Lost in Austen
Anything I say or write is superfluous.
the stars shine so beautifully at night,
the sun looks brighter than bright,
flowers smell prettier than ever,
I don’t anymore say ‘never’,
I jump every time my phone beeps,
stay awake while the world sleeps,
am learning to cook your favorite dishes,
‘Mr. Right’ is no more one of my weekly wishes,
why I’m happy, and smile all the time;
you’re the reason why I write sappy poems that rhyme!
the day we met last;
seems like here and now,
though a thing of the past.
I can still feel
your palms over mine,
those futile efforts at palmistry,
that corny pick-up line.
Can still smell
the lunch we shared.
Over coffee and burgers,
not a subject we’d spared.
I still dream
about that perfect day;
a nip in the air made you offer me
your jacket in that offhand way.
your smile, your laugh, your chivalry;
in my heart they ever stay–
your jokes, your compliments, your gallantry.
how it would be
if we were together–
just you and me.
‘The Bridges of Madison County’, written by Robert James Waller, has always been one of my favourite books. Some time back, I started reading it again (actually, re-reading it again). But this time as I turned the pages, just one thought kept running in my head–this is not extraordinary! I wondered what had made me feel this book was so special. Probably I had become a cynic. Probably, as Robert Kincaid says, analysis had destroyed the magic.
Then came the day–in the story–when Robert Kincaid parted ways with Francesca Johnson, but in a geographical sense only. That was when my tears started to flow, and did not stop till the last letter of the last word of the last chapter. And I realized that the romantic in me is still alive.
It’s not really the story that holds us, not even the characters by themselves. It’s the words. The book is almost a poem in prose. The descriptions, the dialogues are beautifully poignant. In the end, they are what stayed with me and will compel me to read the book again, and I will once again forget about the disappointing beginning and the mediocre portions.
My favorite phrases from this book:
“I am the highway and a peregrine and all the sails that ever went to sea.”
“I live with dust on my heart”
“The old dreams were good dreams; they didn’t work out, but I’m glad I had them”
“Analysis destroys wholes. Some things, magic things, are meant to stay whole.”
“The reality is not exactly what the song started out to be, but it’s not a bad song.”
“I don’t like feeling sorry for myself”
“I love you, profoundly and completely. And I always will.”
‘There are songs that come free from the blue-eyed grass, from the dust of a thousand country roads’
“To ancient evenings and distant music”
“In a universe of ambiguity, this kind of certainty comes only once, and never again, no matter how many lifetimes you live.”
“Complex things are easy to do. Simplicity is the real challenge.”
“.. and I play that tune for a man named Robert Kincaid and a woman he called Francesca.”