Illicit Love Quotes

I've never been more in love with anyone nearly half my age than I am today. I'd get married in a minute if I weren't still married to somebody else.

A lawful kiss is never worth as much as a stolen one.

There're rules to being the side chick. Rule number one: you're number two.

One morning, about four o'clock, I was driving my car just about as fast as I could. I thought, Why am I out this time of night? I was miserable, and it came to me: I'm falling in love with somebody I have no right to fall in love with.

Daytime friends and night time lovers, hoping that no one else discovers.

King Charles II liked women's company and well as making love to them.

The role of the disappointed lover of a maiden or of any single woman might be ridiculous; but the role of a man who was pursuing a married woman, and who made it the purpose of his life at all cost to draw her into adultery, was one which had in it something beautiful and dignified and could never be ridiculous.

Love is stolen in the shadows of the night. Though it's wrong all along, it keeps going on as long as they keep it out of sight.

I've stolen a couple of hearts and they are in my private collection!

An illicit love affair seems sweetly old-fashioned in the age of one night stands and orgies.

I was growing tired of all the fussing and prevaricating, of the stolen hours and the secret rendez-vous; of the small indignities and broad discomfort that are part and parcel of adultery.

Dismiss and expel from your dwelling, cohabitation, and care that Catherine whom it is said that you have lately taken into concubinage and you shall never take up with her again …

I was down in the sewer with some little lover.

A mistress should be like a little country retreat near the town, not to dwell in constantly, but only for a night and away.

In the Middle Ages, the troubadour poets invented the concept of courtly love--a fantasy love, a noble passion, which was also extra-marital and thus inevitably thwarted, illicit, adulterous. One of the medieval terms for it was amour honestus (honest love). I've always wondered why this passionate ideal--masochistic, spiritual-travelled with such wildfire throughout Europe. My poem, a ghazal, takes up the subject.

In classic noir fiction and film, it is always hot. Fans whirr in sweltering hotel rooms, sweat forms on a stranger's brow, the muggy air stifles - one can hardly breathe. Come nightfall, there is no relief, only the darkness that allows illicit lovers to meet, the trusted to betray, and murderers to act.

The seizure of passionate love can be, in such a context, only illicit, breaking in upon the order of one's dutiful life in virtue as a devastating storm.

Sometimes when she is able to spend the night with him they are wakened by the three minarets of the city beginning their prayers before dawn. He walks with her through the indigo markets that lie between South Cairo and her home. The beautiful songs of faith enter the air like arrows, one minaret answering another, as if passing on a rumor of the two of them as they walk through the cold morning air, the smell of charcoal and hemp already making the air profound. Sinners in a holy city.

Stolen kisses are always sweetest.

These are the days of bootleg love.

When we’re alone together, I’m the destination. When I’m here in her life at school, I’m the disruption.

Love felt and returned, love which our bodies exact and our hearts have transfigured, love which is the most real thing that we shall ever meet, reappeared now as the world's enemy, and she must stifle it.

With extramarital courtship, the deception was prolonged where it had been ephemeral, necessary where it had been frivolous, conspiratorial where it had been lonely.