He lies on the couch all day watching television. I admire his classic American ambition. He’s probably a better lover than me.
Love is a skeleton wrapped in a bacon blanket. It’s sizzling and hot and tasty and I’d love to have some right now with a large cup of coffee.
I’m a murderer. I killed the conversation. She said she loved me, and I said, “If you love me, wait until you meet my clone!
I made a Lindsey Sandwich out of two Jennifers and a Jessica. Then I ate it like I make love—alone, in the corner, with a box of tissues and lots of tears.
I have the dance moves of a mustache, and a singing voice that sounds like a beard on the inside of my cheeks. Carry my love like karaoke in your pocket.
I’m divorced, so I know what it takes to make a marriage work. My love is like an empty box of desert. Just add water.
I wore a long white dress shirt and no pants, so it looked like a white dress. I felt like a bride in love. Well, at least until my boss fired me.
My gas tank is empty, and my stomach is empty, but my heart if full—of love. However, per gallon, I think I paid too much.
I believe in love at first sight, if both people are blind at the time they become smitten with each other.
I enjoy the sounds of morning. My favorite is the shush of orgasm. If you tell me you love me, I might tell you the time.
He asked me an important question, so I said nothing, but silently reached for a piece of paper and scribbled down the words: Peacocks love peach cobbler.
I accidentally sealed the box shut with my penis still inside, not realizing I may need to use it later. Being in love can be so distracting.
Love is like a cloud in a lake. It’s reflective and makes it feel like you are flying, when you are really either swimming or trying not to drown.
It's amazing how fast science took off when I took off my pants. Come back! I need that microscope to make love.
Love is like how I looked at tomorrow yesterday. That was then, that was now, this is now, but this isn’t then. It’s all so confusing that I just want tomorrow to hurry up and be yesterday already.
We got into an argument over the color of love. I said it was pink, and he said it was red. So you see, I had no other choice but to stab him.
I think you’ll find that in the long run, marathons are more of a sprint. So it is with my love, and no matter how many times you flush, the water level remains constant.
It is only a novel... or, in short, only some work in which the greatest powers of the mind are displayed, in which the most thorough knowledge of human nature, the happiest delineation of its varieties, the liveliest effusions of wit and humour, are...
Why do you think we are the only animal that kisses? She was near again. Because the area in front of our faces is our most intimate zone. She drew a breath. This is why humans are the only romantic animal!
The only time I drink milk is when I drink coffee. I make love the same way—contributing 2% as I just sort of lay there.
My love for her is deep, like the ocean, only not so salty. My love for her probably only has as much salt as a bag of potato chips, though it’s much, much more addicting to munch on.
