<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1168779235262173933</id><updated>2011-11-27T16:51:48.253-08:00</updated><category term='Love Tips'/><category term='Novel'/><category term='Love Quotes.'/><category term='Love Stories'/><title type='text'>All About Love - Quotes, Stories, Pictures</title><subtitle type='html'>Sometimes Heart can See What is Invisible to Eye.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Arun Kishor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08950527370571975358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S3vcgvv-rnI/AAAAAAAAAGk/AcTznAn3nIU/S220/DSC02849.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>27</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1168779235262173933.post-1868206661565006781</id><published>2010-10-20T04:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-03T22:34:08.540-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Novel'/><title type='text'>And you never loved me.</title><content type='html'>"Her's an evergreen taster to my next novel "And you never loved me", i have already published it and will be happy to have some really romantic opinion about it.."&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;span style="color: #e06666; font-size: x-large;"&gt;Chapter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-size: x-large;"&gt;-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;"&gt;1&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;It was almost as refreshing, and may be more, as every morning. He woke up at the same time, did the morning stuff, called out his P.A, made coffee and checked his e-mails.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; There was nothing unique with him around, any day. He wrote his daily articles, went to interviews and did every boring thing which in one way or other repeated every day. Any human in this universe would have got bored by the same year cycle. There were no birthdays for him, there were no Christmas. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;"Sir, i just had the information that we will not get the American bugle today," Rose, his P.A said as she moved up the stairs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; "Oh. then the new york times, perhaps?"&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; "I'll go get it, Sir" Rose's sweet voice was sweeter, full of care.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;He hated caring women. He had a strong reason for it. A reason that cannot lie. And whatever it was, it made clear that he will never again trust a women, even if she vows to love him. Nor he felt no more attention to any women other than respect or in another way - Hatred.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;"No, I'll get it," He said.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Then realizing of the tight security he was in, he turned his head again "Just make sure that you convince the guards."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;He opened his closet and searched for his brown jacket. he left a glance towards the box, which lie in the last tray of the Almira. He thought of the fine dresses the box possessed. But that does not make him realize, he felt himself as a dead man.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;But , if we dug too deep we could clear it out, the original, warm, fun loving, &lt;strike&gt;handsome&lt;/strike&gt; Louis was dead.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;He walked down the stairs of the enormous house, and while getting past his body guards, he did not forget to wink at them. they saluted him back.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;But when they realized that he was about to leave the house, they began following.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; "Please, for Christ's sake. Leave me alone." Louis yelled. He didn't realize that he almost got them startled.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;"Sir, you are forgetting that you are a V.V.I.P" and, with a pause one of the guards continued, "..And that your life is valuable to the nation."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;"Hell with your rules." Louis said as he walked outside, and when realizing they were still following him, he turned on his heels and said "Dear, loving people." He sighed "I know that I'm a V.V.I.P and my life is valuable. but, IF YOU DON'T STOP COMING AFTER ME NOW, I'M GONNA SHOOT MYSELF."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;The guards know that the handsome man before them does not value for his life and will even dare to end it. They began walking backwards. Louis put his gun back in it's place and walked out side.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;"Nobody could kill a dead man" he murmured.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;He got inside the BMW and turned on the GPS. He phoned for local assistance and noted the place he wanted to go. France was a fine place to drive. At least when comparing with the 'city that never sleeps'.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;He was in Paris and he could see the ancient buildings he rode past. He located the local bookstall he intended to go. He got up from the car and began walking towards the stall. He could see many eyes staring at him with wonder and excitement. He could hear murmurs. But he was somehow glad that No one jumped before him and touched him and pleaded for an autograph. He asked for a new york times up there.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; The shop keeper was looking at him with slightly open mouth, just like gazing at open sunlight. His eyes were blinking. The shop guy passed him a new york times. Louis opened his wallet and put out a 100$ note&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;"Keep the change."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;He could here the shopkeeper shouting at him as he walked towards the car&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;"Hey.., Are you Louis Alexander Clemens?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;He did not reply. he saw the other people snapping photos . Some were talking excited on the phone. But the most unbelievable thing was no one dared to come and 'touch' him. May be they thought this was only a spoof or impersonator of the great writer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Louis managed to give a sad smile at the people, who got excited and began yelling -&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;"He smiled at me!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;"No, he smiled at me!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;He got in the car and lowered the glass. And without even a second thought - He tore the matrimonial page of the newspaper and threw it past the door.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; And while his fans struggled to get at least a piece of the matrimonial, he was speeding up his car. So were his mind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; There was always a reason.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;span style="color: #3d85c6;"&gt;A STR&lt;i&gt;O&lt;/i&gt;NG&lt;b&gt; &lt;span style="color: #9fc5e8;"&gt;R&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;EASON&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: smallt;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1168779235262173933-1868206661565006781?l=stillromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/1868206661565006781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2010/10/and-you-never-loved-me.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/1868206661565006781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/1868206661565006781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2010/10/and-you-never-loved-me.html' title='And you never loved me.'/><author><name>Arun Kishor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08950527370571975358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S3vcgvv-rnI/AAAAAAAAAGk/AcTznAn3nIU/S220/DSC02849.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1168779235262173933.post-8372366640352333524</id><published>2010-08-06T03:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-06T03:04:45.756-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Story 21</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;Scene 1- Bus stop&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;(It was Heavily raining , or is it heavenly!!??)&lt;br /&gt;'Hey!, I don't mind sharing this, you know.'&lt;br /&gt;'Oh. k, Thanks!'&lt;br /&gt;'Heavy rain, isn't it?'&lt;br /&gt;'Ya, Quite Streched'&lt;br /&gt;'May i know your name?'&lt;br /&gt;'Katerine, Lousy name!huh?'&lt;br /&gt;'No, it's actually great!, look at mine - Mike, what a common one!'&lt;br /&gt;'Ya, it's common. But i like that name.'&lt;br /&gt;'Do you!..Well...where is your home then?'&lt;br /&gt;'Down 12th street'&lt;br /&gt;'I'll walk you there.'&lt;br /&gt;'Oh, nono. please.i am still thankful to you for sharing your umbrella' &lt;br /&gt;'Well, 12th street is only couple of yards from here'&lt;br /&gt;'Oh, no .thanks.'&lt;br /&gt;' Why are you saying that again!?, I'm gonna walk you there. It's no matter.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="color: #e06666;"&gt;Scene 2 - 12th Street.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(in front of a big mansion)&lt;br /&gt;'Well, i should be leaving now.'&lt;br /&gt;'Should you?'&lt;br /&gt;'Well, I!'&lt;br /&gt;'Then, please.'&lt;br /&gt;'Meet you someday.'&lt;br /&gt;'Ya you can say that.'&lt;br /&gt;(The very day, as the lady was a serious cancer patient. She died. I don't know how to express this in scenes, for my mind goes blank when i think of that. But i know one thing, that the man, named mike lived happily, insisting on the fact (is it!?) that he will meet her some day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;span style="color: #e06666;"&gt;X&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: #c27ba0;"&gt;----------------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #e06666;"&gt;X&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1168779235262173933-8372366640352333524?l=stillromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/8372366640352333524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2010/08/story-21.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/8372366640352333524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/8372366640352333524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2010/08/story-21.html' title='Story 21'/><author><name>Arun Kishor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08950527370571975358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S3vcgvv-rnI/AAAAAAAAAGk/AcTznAn3nIU/S220/DSC02849.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1168779235262173933.post-6759599854123683559</id><published>2010-03-22T02:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-14T22:22:51.732-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love Stories'/><title type='text'>Story 20</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;That day Michael was really angry.He felt his insides burning, and if we gave his best friend David in his hand now, he would have squeezed the hell out of him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Michael jumped from his seat when he heard his own car streaming in to his porch. He rushed towards it and pulled out David from it. Before David could explain, Michael slapped him on the face, then he pressed a cell phone in to David's hand.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; "Call her". He yelled&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;"K.okei!." David said (Still smiling)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;David called her. As soon as she took the phone, David began talking.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;"Valentina,&amp;nbsp; No!. This is not Michael, it's his friend David. Now please listen. Michael is innocent. He is not responsible for not meeting you today eve. I took his car today noon and i couldn't return it to him before evening. I know that you are harsh towards him for spoiling a such a wonderful evening. Well, the blame is mine. I am responsible. I just wanna say sorry. That's why i called" David finished all these in one breadth.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; "Oh...that's very sweet of you, David. Anyway where have you been" .The reply came.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;'Well, i have been off to find my girlfriend. She left me last month. I heard from one of her friends that she is living in 12th street. So, i went to see her. It's a long story and i don't wanna bore you with that!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;"Oh, it's worth listening. please go on"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;'Well then i went to 12th street and i saw the house locked. So, i waited some time and then i left, leaving a letter at her door.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;" And wot did the letter say"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;" I wrote her to meet me in the lover's park this eve. But i could'nt meet Katerine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;" Oh...so her name is Katerine. Tell me her house number please. May be i know her. I knew a Katerine from 12th street.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;"House no 9"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;"woT...."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;David was surprised when he couldn't hear anymore sound from the other end and the phone was not hung up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;"h'llo, h'llo, der!?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;"Yya...I'm here. Well, if you are talking about Katerine Prescott, she died due to a cardiac arrest last week, she was admitted in my hospital. I am so sorry."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;David went cold by hearing this. Cell phone slipped out of his hands. He felt his legs go weaker, telling him that they could not stand his weight(Or the weight of his heart).He felled. Michael grabbed him and dragged him to the nearby sofa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;Michael could see tears in his eyes, but David was still smiling.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;'Did you know, Katerine left me telling that she could no longer Love me; I thought that she was just going to quit our relationship. I knew she had an asthma thing. But i never thought that she was going to leave me, forever.after all i never knew that she was &lt;a href="http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/p/stillromantic.html"&gt;Stillromantic&lt;/a&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;If anyone had a doubt 'wot does e' mean by "stillromantic". visit this &lt;a href="http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/p/stillromantic.html"&gt;page&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1168779235262173933-6759599854123683559?l=stillromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/6759599854123683559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2010/03/story-20.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/6759599854123683559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/6759599854123683559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2010/03/story-20.html' title='Story 20'/><author><name>Arun Kishor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08950527370571975358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S3vcgvv-rnI/AAAAAAAAAGk/AcTznAn3nIU/S220/DSC02849.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1168779235262173933.post-238659120707501306</id><published>2010-03-16T07:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-14T22:23:31.522-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love Stories'/><title type='text'>Love is Life.</title><content type='html'>Two butterflies were in Love with each other. One day, they decided to see who Loved the other more.The boy butterfly pointed to a flower and suggested, "Shall we play a game within the flower?" the girl butterfly agreed."OK", she said. The boy butterfly said, "The one who sits in this flower tomorrow early in the morning is the one that Loves the other more."&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Next morning the boy butterfly waited for the flower to open so that he could sit in it before the girl butterfly did. To his surprise, he saw the girl butterfly dead inside the flower.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; In fact, the girl butterfly stayed there all night so that early in the morning as soon as she saw him, she could fly into him and tell him how much she Loved him.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; (This story was written by my classmate Ajay Vinod, in our School magazine.I am really thankful to him. By reading this story i understood that girls are also equally "&lt;a href="http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/p/stillromantic.html"&gt;Stillromantic&lt;/a&gt;" as much as men!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1168779235262173933-238659120707501306?l=stillromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/238659120707501306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2010/03/love-is-life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/238659120707501306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/238659120707501306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2010/03/love-is-life.html' title='Love is Life.'/><author><name>Arun Kishor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08950527370571975358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S3vcgvv-rnI/AAAAAAAAAGk/AcTznAn3nIU/S220/DSC02849.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1168779235262173933.post-6360652778457892759</id><published>2010-03-11T06:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-04-14T22:24:05.143-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Do you Like Love Blogs, Then Create One Today!</title><content type='html'>Love tip of the day :- One must Love you in the way you are, not the way they want you to be. If you change your way according to the will of your Love. Then it's not Love, it's just a compromise, and we do not compromise in Love. Huh?&lt;br /&gt;6 best Domain names, 6 "&lt;a href="http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/p/stillromantic.html"&gt;Stillromantic&lt;/a&gt;" Domain names which has not yet been taken! Take them now, or else they'll be gone!&lt;br /&gt;www.andyouneverlovedme.com&lt;br /&gt;www.areyoustillromantic.com&lt;br /&gt;www.lforlove.org(.net and .me is also available!)&lt;br /&gt;www.heartbroken.net&lt;br /&gt;www.iamherewithyou.com&lt;br /&gt;www.ineedlove.im(ineedaffection.com can also be suggested)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1168779235262173933-6360652778457892759?l=stillromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/6360652778457892759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2010/03/do-you-like-love-blogs-then-create-one.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/6360652778457892759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/6360652778457892759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2010/03/do-you-like-love-blogs-then-create-one.html' title='Do you Like Love Blogs, Then Create One Today!'/><author><name>Arun Kishor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08950527370571975358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S3vcgvv-rnI/AAAAAAAAAGk/AcTznAn3nIU/S220/DSC02849.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1168779235262173933.post-8777727636141294244</id><published>2010-03-08T10:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-04-14T22:25:27.817-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love Tips'/><title type='text'>How To Write a Perfect Love Letter :-</title><content type='html'>(This is just some tips and tricks for you to prove a girl that you are &lt;a href="http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/p/stillromantic.html"&gt;Stillromantic&lt;/a&gt;.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S5Tnvkj955I/AAAAAAAAAIY/7ei25N_iuBs/s1600-h/2_Love-letter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S5Tnvkj955I/AAAAAAAAAIY/7ei25N_iuBs/s320/2_Love-letter.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify" class="rightTxt1"&gt;&lt;u&gt; &lt;b&gt;Presentation&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/u&gt;. To employ certain beautiful stationary-- a neutral and soft color, such as the cream or the white--and a pen of talent with black or brown ink--aucuns blue, green or red! To remember, your love letter is written with special somebody. Always remember that the letters written by your own hand is the best. It is personal; you do not write a commercial letter.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;b&gt;Environment&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/u&gt;. To go to a moved back place and to put above soft music and romantic. A quiet room would be nice. To darken the lights, to obtain in a romantic mood or another &lt;a href="http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/p/stillromantic.html"&gt;Stillromantic &lt;/a&gt;place you prefer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;3. Keepsake.&lt;/b&gt; Date your Love Letter (month, day, year).Try to write the date in pink letters or blue. This is a letter that will be treasured and remembered. You can bet that it will be read over and over and safeguarded in a special place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;4. Greeting.&lt;/b&gt; Choose an endearing salutation. Don't be formal. Use you love's first name. For example: "My dearest Jennifer . . ." or "My darling Matt . . .".Never address your love with 'madam' etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;5. Beginning.&lt;/b&gt; Start your Love Letter by telling your beloved your reasons for writing. For instance: "I have lain awake many sleepless nights trying to compose words that might adequately describe the feelings of my heart. But every time I have made the attempt, I have failed miserably. Please forgive my poor effort and accept a trite and simple phrase: I love you. I think I can say it no better than that..." Never insult your beloved's feelings or belittle yourself by saying something like: "I know you probably don't feel this way," or "You must think I'm crazy." If you are timid in your Love Letter, your attempt at conveying heartfelt words will fall flat and might be misunderstood. Never praise your love insulting yourself for example - 'I am not that beautiful, but i am really crazy about the most beautiful women in this world, you'.  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;b&gt;6. Body.&lt;/b&gt; The body of the Love Letter should include reasons for why you fell in love. Here are some ideas:(only in past tense)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;recall when you fell in love with him/her&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;explain how your life has changed for the better&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;describe how much you miss your love when you're apart&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;explain that you can't imagine life without him/her&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;list some of the many things you have in common&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;tell how wonderful and complete he/she makes you feel&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;recall some special moments you've shared together&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;mention times you've picked him/her out of a crowd&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;list qualities that set him/her apart from everyone else( but never praise her over)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Avoid being casual, too light-hearted, or openly erotic. A Love Letter is a letter of respect that coveys deep, difficult-to-express feelings. Don't discount the impact of poetry in place of, or in addition to, your words. Maybe your beloved has a favorite author or poet. It will be seen as a compliment if you take the time to quote someone he/she admires. Be sure to give proper credit where it's due. Don't forget the Internet is a great place to find that poem or song you are trying to quote!&lt;br /&gt;Be real. Your Love Letter should be a carefully crafted work of art, but it also needs to sound sincere. You want your Love Letter to make your beloved fall in love, not fall into laughter. Be confident as you express your emotions, dreams, and vulnerability.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;NOTE:&lt;/b&gt; don't expect your first attempt will be the letter you send. Practice on scrap paper before you start writing on your good stationery. REVISE, then leave it for a few hours, then return and revise it again. Read it again in the morning before you send it. You'll improve it, as well as have fewer regrets—guaranteed!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;7. Closing.&lt;/b&gt; End your Love Letter with carefully worded prose: "There, I have said it. I can rest now. And as I dream, I will dream of you." Make your closing upbeat and positive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;8. Valediction.&lt;/b&gt; Don't just end with: "Love, Eric." Even if you said, "All my love," it would be better. You become even more romantic by writing something like: "Dream of me, my love..." What you want is a simple, yet heartfelt goodbye: "With undying love," or "Forever yours." Remember, you may think this is too sappy, but your loved one will treasure each word. Be prepared to have it quoted to you in years to come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;9. Insert.&lt;/b&gt; Include a special extra: petals from a flower, sprinkles of stars, a teabag of your favorite tea ...You get the idea. That little extra effort means you really put some thought (and heart) into this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;10. Neatness counts.&lt;/b&gt; Gently fold the Love Letter and place it in a neatly addressed envelope—hopefully, one that matches your stationery. The correct way is to fold a small stationery sheet (or sheets) in half with the text on the inside. Place the letter in the envelope with the crease at the bottom and the salutation facing the back. Hand address the envelope. Remember what your elementary teacher taught you about penmanship--make sure your love is able to read your writing! Add a stamp that looks romantic--the Garden Bouquet stamps are nice--and affix it upside down. It is a custom that means, "I love you." Drop the letter in the mail. That's it! Expect an emotional response. And here's another tip: buy some breath mints--you'll need them!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;11. Be expressive.&lt;/b&gt; Here are some popular words to use in your Love Letter: angel, angelic, lover, giving, alluring, tempting, sensual, sensuality, seeing, tasting, touching, holding, caressing, memories, memorable, darling, gorgeous, absence, velvet, voyage, beautiful, vision, elation, blossoms, happy, kisses, innocent, passion, dreaming, delirious, temptation, complete, desire, content, embrace, rainbow, rose, adoring, stars, privileged, heart.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; (Now you're set!..Try to be &lt;a href="http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/p/stillromantic.html"&gt;Stillromantic &lt;/a&gt;to your love, always)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1168779235262173933-8777727636141294244?l=stillromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/8777727636141294244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2010/03/how-to-write-perfect-love-letter.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/8777727636141294244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/8777727636141294244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2010/03/how-to-write-perfect-love-letter.html' title='How To Write a Perfect Love Letter :-'/><author><name>Arun Kishor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08950527370571975358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S3vcgvv-rnI/AAAAAAAAAGk/AcTznAn3nIU/S220/DSC02849.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S5Tnvkj955I/AAAAAAAAAIY/7ei25N_iuBs/s72-c/2_Love-letter.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1168779235262173933.post-6035157530615718395</id><published>2010-03-06T06:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-04-14T22:26:50.623-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Best of "Stillromantic" Poems.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span rowspan="2" style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 0pt;"&gt;    &lt;b&gt;     &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span rowspan="2" style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b style="background-color: red; color: #f1c232;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white;"&gt;We were just friends at the start,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white;"&gt; Always having fun, never apart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span rowspan="2" style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b style="background-color: red; color: #f1c232;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white;"&gt;------------------------------------ &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br style="background-color: white; color: #3d85c6;" /&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: white;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #3d85c6;"&gt; Then one day, something sparked&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="background-color: white; color: #3d85c6;" /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: #3d85c6;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;The next thing I knew, you had my heart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br style="color: #3d85c6;" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: small;"&gt;The days flew by,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br style="color: #3d85c6;" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: small;"&gt; I lost track of time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br style="color: #3d85c6;" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: small;"&gt; Everytime I was with you,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br style="color: #3d85c6;" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: small;"&gt; I was on cloud nine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span rowspan="2" style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br style="color: #3d85c6;" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: small;"&gt;Then one day, you asked me to be your girlfriend&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br style="color: #3d85c6;" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: small;"&gt; I exclaimed, yes! and prayed we'd last until the very end.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br style="color: #3d85c6;" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: small;"&gt; No one could look into my eyes and say I wasn't happy,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br style="color: #3d85c6;" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: small;"&gt; Happy that I was with you, and you were with me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span rowspan="2" style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: small;"&gt;With me in your arms, you told me you loved me,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br style="color: #0b5394;" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: small;"&gt; Then gently kissed my forehead and gave me a squeeze.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br style="color: #0b5394;" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: small;"&gt; I was convinced you were the one for me,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br style="color: #0b5394;" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: small;"&gt; Apart from you, I would never be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span rowspan="2" style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color: #073763; font-size: small;"&gt;Just when I thought all was well,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br style="color: #073763;" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-size: small;"&gt; Was when you began to put me through hell.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br style="color: #073763;" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-size: small;"&gt; You said, we should just be friends&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br style="color: #073763;" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-size: small;"&gt; That's when I knew it was the end.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span rowspan="2" style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-size: small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="background-color: white; font-size: small;"&gt;I looked into your eyes, trying to find out why,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br style="background-color: white;" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-size: small;"&gt; It was all I could do, not to begin to cry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br style="background-color: white;" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-size: small;"&gt; Where I once saw love, I saw nothing,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br style="background-color: white;" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-size: small;"&gt; I couldn't believe you no longer felt something.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span rowspan="2" style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-size: small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color: #e06666; font-size: small;"&gt;I lay in bed, counting my tears,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br style="color: #e06666;" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #e06666; font-size: small;"&gt; Each representing what I'd hoped would be years.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br style="color: #e06666;" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #e06666; font-size: small;"&gt; Years of happiness, for us to be together,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br style="color: #e06666;" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #e06666; font-size: small;"&gt; A long-lived life, forever and ever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span rowspan="2" style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #e06666; font-size: small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"&gt;But in my heart, I know this will never be,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br style="color: #cc0000;" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"&gt; For in yours, no longer is there a place for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br style="color: #cc0000;" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"&gt; I gave you my all; I gave you my heart,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br style="color: #cc0000;" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"&gt; Little did I know that you'd tear it apart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span rowspan="2" style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br style="color: #351c75;" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color: #990000; font-size: small;"&gt;Everyday I place a smile on my face,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br style="color: #990000;" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #990000; font-size: small;"&gt; As for tears, there is not a trace.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br style="color: #990000;" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #990000; font-size: small;"&gt; You ripped me apart, but yet it's true,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br style="color: #990000;" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #990000; font-size: small;"&gt; Forever and always, I'll still love you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span rowspan="2" style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #990000;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span style="color: #4c1130;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;So let me ask you, Are you &lt;a href="http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/p/stillromantic.html"&gt;Stillromantic&lt;/a&gt;!!?? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1168779235262173933-6035157530615718395?l=stillromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/6035157530615718395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2010/03/best-of-stillromantic-poems.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/6035157530615718395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/6035157530615718395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2010/03/best-of-stillromantic-poems.html' title='Best of &quot;Stillromantic&quot; Poems.'/><author><name>Arun Kishor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08950527370571975358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S3vcgvv-rnI/AAAAAAAAAGk/AcTznAn3nIU/S220/DSC02849.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1168779235262173933.post-2476786974062640615</id><published>2010-03-04T02:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-07-16T03:52:30.406-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Best of "Still Romantic" Wallpapers ;- Love wallpapers</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S5EHPcnnQvI/AAAAAAAAAHI/yAFtnm99v9A/s1600-h/best_thing_about_me_is_you-normal5.4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S5EHPcnnQvI/AAAAAAAAAHI/yAFtnm99v9A/s400/best_thing_about_me_is_you-normal5.4.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S5EIM4GKP1I/AAAAAAAAAHQ/M6t0h2SgY_k/s1600-h/0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S5EIM4GKP1I/AAAAAAAAAHQ/M6t0h2SgY_k/s400/0.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S5EIUdDa3nI/AAAAAAAAAHY/P3nLFYNQzko/s1600-h/09+love+%28www.cute-pictures.blogspot.com%29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S5EIUdDa3nI/AAAAAAAAAHY/P3nLFYNQzko/s400/09+love+%28www.cute-pictures.blogspot.com%29.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S5EIcbPmZgI/AAAAAAAAAHg/Eni9OMFVC90/s1600-h/love-wallpapers-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S5EIcbPmZgI/AAAAAAAAAHg/Eni9OMFVC90/s400/love-wallpapers-3.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S5EJGfLYRoI/AAAAAAAAAHo/K6jiTD14SQU/s1600-h/ws_Valentine_Love_1152x864.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S5EJGfLYRoI/AAAAAAAAAHo/K6jiTD14SQU/s400/ws_Valentine_Love_1152x864.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S5EUMfW42EI/AAAAAAAAAHw/xd62Tq7nh0Y/s1600-h/love-wallpaper-41-by-amanpreet_singh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S5EUMfW42EI/AAAAAAAAAHw/xd62Tq7nh0Y/s400/love-wallpaper-41-by-amanpreet_singh.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S5EUYdURewI/AAAAAAAAAH4/dOLGsromVLE/s1600-h/love-wallpaper-by-dominic_saraum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S5EUYdURewI/AAAAAAAAAH4/dOLGsromVLE/s400/love-wallpaper-by-dominic_saraum.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S5EUmuzqTXI/AAAAAAAAAII/Qzyh_I9zmbE/s1600-h/touching-the-heart-wallpapers_9217_1280x800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="225" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S5EUmuzqTXI/AAAAAAAAAII/Qzyh_I9zmbE/s400/touching-the-heart-wallpapers_9217_1280x800.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S5EUfAzoTII/AAAAAAAAAIA/PdrYjBL2ahI/s1600-h/Love-Wallpaper-love-2939256-1024-768.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S5EUfAzoTII/AAAAAAAAAIA/PdrYjBL2ahI/s400/Love-Wallpaper-love-2939256-1024-768.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S5EUxMbVwCI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/4X8u2CsWz1I/s1600-h/cool-pink-heart-wallpaper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="250" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S5EUxMbVwCI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/4X8u2CsWz1I/s400/cool-pink-heart-wallpaper.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #3d85c6; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Hope you'll like these! &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1168779235262173933-2476786974062640615?l=stillromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/2476786974062640615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2010/03/best-of-still-romantic-wallpapers.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/2476786974062640615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/2476786974062640615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2010/03/best-of-still-romantic-wallpapers.html' title='Best of &quot;Still Romantic&quot; Wallpapers ;- Love wallpapers'/><author><name>Arun Kishor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08950527370571975358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S3vcgvv-rnI/AAAAAAAAAGk/AcTznAn3nIU/S220/DSC02849.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S5EHPcnnQvI/AAAAAAAAAHI/yAFtnm99v9A/s72-c/best_thing_about_me_is_you-normal5.4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1168779235262173933.post-1887605768882357119</id><published>2010-02-26T07:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-07-16T03:55:13.356-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love Quotes.'/><title type='text'>Best of Sad Love Quotes</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #333333; font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: small;"&gt;" I love    walking in the rain, 'cause then no-one knows I'm crying.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #333333; font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: small;"&gt;" Love begins    with a smile, grows with a kiss, and ends with a teardrop."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #595959;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;" If you love something, set it free; if it comes backs it's yours, if    it doesn't, it never was."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: #333333; font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: small;"&gt;" Love the heart    that hurts you, but never hurt the heart that loves you."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #333333; font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #333333; font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: small;"&gt;" The greatest    weakness of most humans is their hesitancy to tell others how much they    love them while they're still alive."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" id="table4"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td width="3%"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td width="97%"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: small;"&gt;   &lt;span style="color: #333333;"&gt;   " If we deny love that is given to us, if we refuse to give love    because we fear pain or loss, then our lives will be empty, our loss    greater.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;span style="color: #333333; font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: small;"&gt;" The spaces    between your fingers were created so that another's could fill them in." &lt;/span&gt;   &lt;span style="color: #666666; font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #333333; font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: small;"&gt;" A man falls    in LOVE through his eyes, a women through her ears.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #333333; font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: small;"&gt;" There is    always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in    madness."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #333333; font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: small;"&gt;" Don't forget    to love yourself while you love others, even if you are not '&lt;a href="http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/p/stillromantic.html"&gt;still romantic&lt;/a&gt;'."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #333333; font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #333333; font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #666666; font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #333333; font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1168779235262173933-1887605768882357119?l=stillromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/1887605768882357119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2010/02/best-of-sad-love-quotes.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/1887605768882357119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/1887605768882357119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2010/02/best-of-sad-love-quotes.html' title='Best of Sad Love Quotes'/><author><name>Arun Kishor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08950527370571975358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S3vcgvv-rnI/AAAAAAAAAGk/AcTznAn3nIU/S220/DSC02849.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1168779235262173933.post-748517240168079490</id><published>2010-02-13T22:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-04-14T22:30:49.515-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Very Grand Valentine's Day To All My Lovely Readers.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S3eT7EkOUEI/AAAAAAAAAGU/4Mr_j_yG4Vs/s1600-h/happy_valentines_day_1440x900.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;Hope that your Valentine will fall more for you today.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="250" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S3eT7EkOUEI/AAAAAAAAAGU/4Mr_j_yG4Vs/s400/happy_valentines_day_1440x900.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: magenta; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Top 2 Love Story Movies to Watch this Val Day&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;Mohabbatein.(2000)(it's a Hindi movie, but you can always watch it and understand it by using subtitles.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;Casanova(2005):- a gr8 love story movie based on a famous book.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: magenta;"&gt;Top 2 Love Songs to hear this Val Day!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: magenta;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;You are not alone :- Michael Jackson (which is played in the background of this site!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: magenta;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Titanic Theme song :- Celine Dion&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: magenta;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: magenta;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: magenta;"&gt;Let Me Present you a Lovely Valentine's Day Gift!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: magenta;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: magenta;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: red; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;My Story 18&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;7 Feb , Rose Day. For those who do not know, Rose day is the day in which a man, who is extremely in love with a woman can express his feelings, his Romantic feelings to a lady by giving her a red rose. She can never refuse it because it is against the will, the nature, the progress of the rose day. A man can be a friend of a women (Not a boy friend, of course) by giving her a yellow rose on the same day, and she can't refuse that too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; David started a bit early that day, to see his best friend, Katerine. He told her he would meet her that day at 10 a.m at the lover's park. He was in deeply in love with her, but he never had the courage to express it. But he decided that, this rose day he will definitely give her a red rose. As he walked across the lover's park, with a yellow rose and a red rose in the back of his hand. He saw her far away walking towards him. He took the red rose in his right hand while he hid the yellow one in his left hand which he kept behind. Suddenly, he saw something, that Katerine was not alone, she was with a stranger, a handsome one and she was holding hands with him. He saw a red rose in her hand, and he understood that Katerine was no longer his. He threw away the red rose and got hold of the yellow one in his left hand. He gave it to her. She was pleased, and she hugged him. She never saw the tears in his eye. She told him about Ronald, who was first her college mate and now the love of her life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; The next day David died in vain, and Katerine went to give him her last respects. She was not tearfull, she never loved him. She placed a red rose on David's coffin just for a cause of affection.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;But she never knew that exactly 23 hours before that rose was folded between the right hand of David , it was the same rose David threw away, which fell beside a flower shop, and the shop keeper took it and kept it along with the other ones.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;Katerine never knew that there were one man who loved her more than his own life. She never knew that he was romantic, and he is "&lt;a href="http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/p/stillromantic.html"&gt;Still Romantic&lt;/a&gt;" , even if he is dead....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;span style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;I know that this story of mine is not a good work comparing with the other ones. but i don't have another good valentine's day gift for you, my lovely readers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;Sorry if this story disappointed you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: magenta;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: magenta;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: magenta;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: magenta;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1168779235262173933-748517240168079490?l=stillromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/748517240168079490/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2010/02/very-grand-valentines-day-for-all-my.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/748517240168079490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/748517240168079490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2010/02/very-grand-valentines-day-for-all-my.html' title='A Very Grand Valentine&apos;s Day To All My Lovely Readers.'/><author><name>Arun Kishor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08950527370571975358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S3vcgvv-rnI/AAAAAAAAAGk/AcTznAn3nIU/S220/DSC02849.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S3eT7EkOUEI/AAAAAAAAAGU/4Mr_j_yG4Vs/s72-c/happy_valentines_day_1440x900.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1168779235262173933.post-6207671844161696950</id><published>2010-01-29T01:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-29T01:53:00.981-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love Stories'/><title type='text'>Story 17</title><content type='html'>One night a guy and girl were driving home from the movies. The boy sensed there was something wrong because of the painful silence they shared between them that night. The girl then asked the boy to pull over because she wanted to talk. She told him that her feelings had changed and that it was time to move on.&lt;br /&gt;A silent tear slid down his cheek as he slowly reached into his pocket and passed her a folded note. At that moment, a drunk driver was speeding down that very same street. He swerved right into the drivers seat, killing the boy.&lt;br /&gt;Miraculously, the girl survived. Remembering the note, she pulled it out and read it.&lt;br /&gt;" Without your love, I would die."&lt;br /&gt;( If this doesn't touch you, rather buy a heart :D )&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1168779235262173933-6207671844161696950?l=stillromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/6207671844161696950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2010/01/story-17.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/6207671844161696950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/6207671844161696950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2010/01/story-17.html' title='Story 17'/><author><name>Arun Kishor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08950527370571975358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S3vcgvv-rnI/AAAAAAAAAGk/AcTznAn3nIU/S220/DSC02849.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1168779235262173933.post-5909345002009265096</id><published>2009-12-12T10:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-25T00:22:23.362-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love Stories'/><title type='text'>Story 16</title><content type='html'>There was this little girl sitting by herself in the park. Everyone passed by her and never stopped to see why she looked so sad. Dressed in a worn pink dress, barefoot and dirty, the girl just sat and watched the people go by. She never tried to speak. She never said a word. Many people passed by her, but no one would stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day I decided to go back to the park in curiosity to see if the little girl would still be there. Yes, she was there, right in the very spot where she was yesterday, and still with the same sad look in her eyes. Today I was to make my own move and walk over to the little girl. For as we all know, a park full of strange people is not a place for young children to play alone. As I got closer I could see the back of the little girl's dress. It was grotesquely shaped. I figured that was the reason people just passed by and made no effort to speak to her. Deformities are a low blow to our society and, heaven forbid if you make a step toward assisting someone who is different. As I got closer, the little girl lowered her eyes slightly to avoid my intent stare. As I approached her, I could see the shape of her back more clearly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was grotesquely shaped in a humped over form. I smiled to let her know it was OK; I was there to help, to talk. I sat down beside her and opened with a simple, "Hello"; The little girl acted shocked, and stammered a "hi"; after a long stare into my eyes. I smiled and she shyly smiled back. We talked until darkness fell and the park was completely empty. I asked the girl why she was so sad. The little girl looked at me with a sad face said, "Because, I'm different"; I immediately said, "That you are!"; and smiled. The little girl acted even sadder and said, "I know." "Little girl," I said, "you remind me of an angel, sweet and innocent."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She looked at me and smiled, then slowly she got to her feet and said, "Really?" "Yes, you're like a little Guardian Angel sent to watch over all people walking by." She nodded her head yes, and smiled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that she opened the back of her pink dress and allowed her wings to spread, then she said "I am. I'm your Guardian Angel," with a twinkle in her eye. I was speechless -- sure I was seeing things."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said, "For once you thought of someone other than yourself. My job here is done;" I got to my feet and said, "Wait, why did no one stop to help an angel?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She looked at me, smiled, and said, "You are the only one that could see me," and then she was gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And with that, my life was changed dramatically.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1168779235262173933-5909345002009265096?l=stillromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/5909345002009265096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2009/12/story-16_12.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/5909345002009265096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/5909345002009265096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2009/12/story-16_12.html' title='Story 16'/><author><name>Arun Kishor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08950527370571975358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S3vcgvv-rnI/AAAAAAAAAGk/AcTznAn3nIU/S220/DSC02849.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1168779235262173933.post-7539436464954927755</id><published>2009-12-12T03:38:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-01T10:34:18.086-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love Stories'/><title type='text'>Story 15</title><content type='html'>It had been raining for more than a week, so much rain it made everyday seemed so restless and gloomy. She called and said she was coming up. It was the third time she came up to see me that week. I carried her excuse of why she came all the way here and went to meet her at the nearby seven-eleven. She was standing there alone, carrying her red umbrella. Her friend had dropped her off. It was raining and she was shivering. She looked weak and fragile in the harsh rain, wearing not enough to keep her warm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walked up to her and said, "You shouldn't come see me anymore," and stuff like how we shouldn't be together.&lt;br /&gt;She said, "I miss you."&lt;br /&gt;I told her coldly, "Lets go, I'll take you home."&lt;br /&gt;She did not open up her umbrella, I knew she wanted to share mine.&lt;br /&gt;I said, "Open up your umbrella, let's go."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unwillingly, She opened up her umbrella and walked with me to the car. She said she hadn't eat lunch or dinner and asked if we could stop at some place to eat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right away I answered with a stoned heart, "No!"&lt;br /&gt;Disappointed, she asked me to take her to the train station, she said she would take the train back home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it was the rain, all the trains were full of people with umbrellas and suit cases who were eager to get home, not caring about who just passed by. We waited and waited, she looked at me innocently. Being together for so long, of course I knew what she meant. I understand how she must feel when she came all this way here in this kind of weather and I treat her like this. With her soft eyes staring at me, I felt guilt and wanted to let her stay for the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But reality struck again, I said to her coldly, "Let's go try the other train station."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were living in the same apartment building, on the same floor. Back then there were four of us, and we got along well. We would always eat dinner together, watch movies, and sometimes go camping. We were more like a family, but I didn't know I would end up falling in love with the only girl of the four. Maybe it was during the last year of college, having living together for two years, we developed deep feelings for each other. After she graduated she went back home, and I stayed for one more year to finish school. During that year I was only able to take the train down to see her on holidays, but never for long. That was how we kept the treasured relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were walking along the side of the road. She was in front of me and I was right behind her. Her umbrella had a broken spoke. She looked liked a wounded soldier, carrying her rusted rifle walking weakly. Many times, she was too into thinking or whatever she was doing, drifting off the road, she almost got hit by the cars passing by. I wanted to just take her in my arms, but with the love I had for her and the constant pain in my stomach, I did nothing. On the way, we passed by the park where we use to always go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She begged and said, "Lets go in the park just for a little while please, I promise I'll go home right after this."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1168779235262173933-7539436464954927755?l=stillromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/7539436464954927755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2009/12/story-15.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/7539436464954927755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/7539436464954927755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2009/12/story-15.html' title='Story 15'/><author><name>Arun Kishor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08950527370571975358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S3vcgvv-rnI/AAAAAAAAAGk/AcTznAn3nIU/S220/DSC02849.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1168779235262173933.post-8207505247857834825</id><published>2009-12-12T03:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-01T10:34:23.498-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love Stories'/><title type='text'>Story 14</title><content type='html'>Once upon a time, there was once a guy who was very much in love with this girl. This romantic guy folded 1,000 pieces of paper cranes as a gift to his girl. Although, at that time he was just a small executive in his company, his future doesn't seemed too bright, they were very happy together. Until one day, his girl told him she was going to Paris and will never come back. She also told him that she cannot visualize any future for the both of them, so let's go their own ways there and then... heartbroken, the guy agreed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he regained his confidence, he worked hard day and night, slogging his body and mind just to make something out of himself. Finally with all these hard work and with the help of friends, this guy had set up his own company...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You never fail until you stop trying." he always told himself. "I must make it in life!"&lt;br /&gt;One rainy day, while this guy was driving, he saw an elderly couple sharing an umbrella in the rain walking to some destination. Even with the umbrella, they were still drenched. It didn't take him long to realise those were his ex-girlfriend's parents. With a heart in getting back at them, he drove slowly beside the couple, wanting them to spot him in his luxury sedan. He wanted them to know that he wasn't the same anymore, he had his own company, car, condo, etc. He had made it in life!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before the guy can realize, the couple was walking towards a cemetery,and he got out of his car and followed them...and he saw his ex-girlfriend, a photograph of her smiling sweetly as ever at him from her tombstone... and he saw his precious paper cranes in a bottle placed beside her tomb. Her parents saw him. He walked over and asked them why this had happened. They explained, she did not leave for France at all. She was stricken ill with cancer. In her heart, she had believed that he will make it someday, but she did not want her illness to be his obstacle ... therefore she had chosen to leave him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She had wanted her parents to put his paper cranes beside her, because, if the day comes when fate brings him to her again he can take some of those back with him. The guy just wept ...the worst way to miss someone is to be sitting right beside them but knowing you can't have them and will never see them again.&lt;br /&gt;The End."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1168779235262173933-8207505247857834825?l=stillromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/8207505247857834825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2009/12/story-14.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/8207505247857834825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/8207505247857834825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2009/12/story-14.html' title='Story 14'/><author><name>Arun Kishor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08950527370571975358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S3vcgvv-rnI/AAAAAAAAAGk/AcTznAn3nIU/S220/DSC02849.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1168779235262173933.post-8384320233665561615</id><published>2009-12-12T00:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-01T10:34:53.641-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love Stories'/><title type='text'>Story 13</title><content type='html'>There was a blind girl who hated herself just because she was blind.&lt;br /&gt;She hated&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;everyone, except her loving boyfriend. He was always there for her. She said that if&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she could only see the world, She would marry her boyfriend.There was So many&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;reason why she wanted to watch this beautiful world and one of the Major reason&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;was she wanted to See his love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her boyfriend has given advertisement in various news paper,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;invested lot of money in finding someone who can donate her&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two eyes And One day, Someone donated a pair of eyes to her&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then she could see Everything, Yes, Everything&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Including her Boyfriend. Her boyfriend asked her,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Now that you can see the world, will you marry me?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The girl was shocked when she saw that her boyfriend was Blind too, and refused to&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;marry him. She was happy to see herself in mirror and she realized that she deserve someone better then this Blind man (Her Lover)..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her boyfriend walked away in Tears, and later wrote a Letter to her saying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“JUST TAKE CARE OF MY EYES PLEASE.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1168779235262173933-8384320233665561615?l=stillromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/8384320233665561615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2009/12/story-13.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/8384320233665561615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/8384320233665561615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2009/12/story-13.html' title='Story 13'/><author><name>Jijo Sunny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07919766403796730620</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f3lmmUQnHr0/SyY5segsDeI/AAAAAAAAAC8/FMzXXa-EACM/S220/jijo1-350x262.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1168779235262173933.post-4501514353909508271</id><published>2009-12-11T23:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-01T10:34:59.660-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love Stories'/><title type='text'>Story 12</title><content type='html'>There was an boyfriend butterfly and one girlfriend butterfly playing hide and seek in garden&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;suddenly the boyfriend butterfly says to girlfriend butterfly&lt;br /&gt;"i love u"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for this girl friend butterfly reply that&lt;br /&gt;"I love u even more than u love me"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for this the boyfriend butterfly bets to girlfriend butterfly lets see who loves whom the most and says that tomorrow morning the one that sits on this flower first loves the other one the most in this world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so the bets starts&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the next day before the sun could rise the boyfriend butterfly comes near to that flower just wanting to reach that flower at first to prove that he loves the girlfriend butterfly the most in this world and more than anything&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the flower opened&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but see the disaster...the boyfriend butterfly was shocked...his heart stopped beating ..he was literally dead at that point of time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when the flower opened he just saw was his girlfriend butterfly dead into that flower&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she died because to prove that she loved him more than anything she waited all night into that flower...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1168779235262173933-4501514353909508271?l=stillromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/4501514353909508271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2009/12/story-12.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/4501514353909508271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/4501514353909508271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2009/12/story-12.html' title='Story 12'/><author><name>Jijo Sunny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07919766403796730620</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f3lmmUQnHr0/SyY5segsDeI/AAAAAAAAAC8/FMzXXa-EACM/S220/jijo1-350x262.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1168779235262173933.post-7067389317943075629</id><published>2009-12-11T23:37:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-01T10:35:04.590-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love Stories'/><title type='text'>Story 11</title><content type='html'>One day a boy asked his girlfriend 2 marry her.&lt;br /&gt;the gal gave him a challenge to live a day with out her,&lt;br /&gt;only them she will marry him.&lt;br /&gt;no communication was there for 24hours.&lt;br /&gt;the boy dont know that the gal has only 24 hours life left.&lt;br /&gt;becoz she was ill.&lt;br /&gt;after 24 hrs the boy went to the gals house holding a ring.&lt;br /&gt;he was shocked to know that she was dead.&lt;br /&gt;she left a letter for him saying,&lt;br /&gt;" U DID IT AND U CAN BE WITH OUT ME "&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1168779235262173933-7067389317943075629?l=stillromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/7067389317943075629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2009/12/story-11.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/7067389317943075629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/7067389317943075629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2009/12/story-11.html' title='Story 11'/><author><name>Jijo Sunny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07919766403796730620</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f3lmmUQnHr0/SyY5segsDeI/AAAAAAAAAC8/FMzXXa-EACM/S220/jijo1-350x262.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1168779235262173933.post-2508218606906946486</id><published>2009-12-11T23:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-01T10:35:09.926-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love Stories'/><title type='text'>Story 10</title><content type='html'>I was in 9th grade when a guy started loving me like hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was actually crazy for me .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Used to gift me flowers, chocolates and many more&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and I never ever accepted his proposal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He even cut his nerves and wrote i love you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;on his wrist which was actually too daring but&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;still I never ever realized his love for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always thought it's just an infatuation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But he never stepped back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the school parties he used to follow me although his subjects&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;were different but still he used to manage that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The irritating thing he did was he hired a Video maker to&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;shoot only my video in the school party. Which was too much...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But when his friends asked him about this&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he used to say he is crazy for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every day he used to follow me from school till&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my home and this happened for at least 3 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But one day he didn't come I thought&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he might be busy with something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not even him all our teachers as well. And it was still me who&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;was not realizing his love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the days passed away I couldn't see him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought he is fed up of coming after me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I started missing him. After 2 months when he didn't come&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;after me I met his friend and asked about him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came to knew that he is in Hospital,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there are only 3 months left for him to live.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he got Brain tumor which was not curable I was stunned .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't stop myself and rushed to the hospital&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;where I saw him lying in the bed and only asking for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when he saw me there I think he was&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the happiest person on this world he said that&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he really loves me and wants to marry me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew the truth but I accepted his proposal&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we couldn't marry but I gave him my love for&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;next 3 months. I gave him all I have physically as well as mentally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Atlast: The day came to take his life, and the same day I went with him to the World where there is no distance between us!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1168779235262173933-2508218606906946486?l=stillromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/2508218606906946486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2009/12/story-10.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/2508218606906946486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/2508218606906946486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2009/12/story-10.html' title='Story 10'/><author><name>Jijo Sunny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07919766403796730620</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f3lmmUQnHr0/SyY5segsDeI/AAAAAAAAAC8/FMzXXa-EACM/S220/jijo1-350x262.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1168779235262173933.post-2052975033425754526</id><published>2009-12-11T23:19:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-01T10:35:14.204-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love Stories'/><title type='text'>Story 9</title><content type='html'>A girl and guy were speeding over 100 mph on the road on a motorcycle.. .&lt;br /&gt;Girl: Slow down. Im scared.&lt;br /&gt;Guy: No this is fun.&lt;br /&gt;Girl: No its not. Please, its too scary!&lt;br /&gt;Guy: Then tell me you love me.&lt;br /&gt;Girl: Fine, I love you. Slow down!&lt;br /&gt;Guy: Now give me a BIG hug.&lt;br /&gt;Girl hugs him&lt;br /&gt;Guy: Can you take my helmet off &amp; put it on yourself? Its bugging me.&lt;br /&gt;In the paper the next day :( A motorcycle had crashed into a building because of brake failure. Two people were on it, but only one had survived.&lt;br /&gt;The truth was that halfway down the road, the guy realized that his brakes broke, but he didn't want to let the girl know. Instead, he had her say she loved him &amp; felt her hug him one last time, then had her wear his helmet so that she would live even though it meant that he would die.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1168779235262173933-2052975033425754526?l=stillromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/2052975033425754526/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2009/12/story-9.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/2052975033425754526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/2052975033425754526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2009/12/story-9.html' title='Story 9'/><author><name>Jijo Sunny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07919766403796730620</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f3lmmUQnHr0/SyY5segsDeI/AAAAAAAAAC8/FMzXXa-EACM/S220/jijo1-350x262.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1168779235262173933.post-5642443477041163584</id><published>2009-12-11T23:11:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-01T10:35:46.067-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love Stories'/><title type='text'>Story 8</title><content type='html'>"A touching love story that 'll make u cry"&lt;br /&gt;10th Grade:-&lt;br /&gt;As I sat there in English class,&lt;br /&gt;I stared at the girl next to me.&lt;br /&gt;She was my so called 'best friend'.&lt;br /&gt;I stared at her long, silky hair,&lt;br /&gt;and wished she was mine.&lt;br /&gt;But she didn't notice me like that,&lt;br /&gt;and I knew it.&lt;br /&gt;After class,&lt;br /&gt;she walked up to me and asked me for&lt;br /&gt;the notes she had missed the day before.&lt;br /&gt;I handed them to her.She said 'thanks'&lt;br /&gt;and gave me a kiss on the cheek.&lt;br /&gt;I want to tell her, I want her to know&lt;br /&gt;that I don't want to be just friends,&lt;br /&gt;I love her but I'm just too shy,&lt;br /&gt;and I don't know why.&lt;br /&gt;11th grade:-&lt;br /&gt;The phone rang. On the other end,&lt;br /&gt;it was her. She was in tears,&lt;br /&gt;mumbling on and on about how&lt;br /&gt;her love had broke her heart.&lt;br /&gt;She asked me to come over&lt;br /&gt;because she didn't want to be alone, So I did.&lt;br /&gt;As I sat next to her on the sofa, I stared at her&lt;br /&gt;soft eyes, wishing she was mine.&lt;br /&gt;After 2 hours, one Drew Barrymore movie,&lt;br /&gt;and three bags of chips,&lt;br /&gt;she decided to go home.&lt;br /&gt;She looked at me, said 'thanks'&lt;br /&gt;and gave me a kiss&lt;br /&gt;on the cheek..I want to tell her,&lt;br /&gt;I want her to know that&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to be just friends,&lt;br /&gt;I love her but I'm just too shy,&lt;br /&gt;and I don't know why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Senior year:-&lt;br /&gt;One fine day she walked to my locker.&lt;br /&gt;"My date is sick" she said,&lt;br /&gt;"hes not gonna go" well,&lt;br /&gt;I didn't have a date, and in 7th grade,&lt;br /&gt;we made a promise that&lt;br /&gt;if neither of us had dates,&lt;br /&gt;we would go together just as 'best friends'.&lt;br /&gt;So we did.&lt;br /&gt;That night, after everything was over,&lt;br /&gt;I was standing at her front door step.&lt;br /&gt;I stared at her as She smiled at me&lt;br /&gt;and stared at me with her crystal eyes.&lt;br /&gt;Then she said- "I had the best time, thanks!"&lt;br /&gt;and gave me a kiss on the cheek.&lt;br /&gt;I want to tell her,&lt;br /&gt;I want her to know&lt;br /&gt;that I don't want to be just friends,&lt;br /&gt;I love her but I'm just too shy,&lt;br /&gt;and I don't know why.&lt;br /&gt;Graduation:-&lt;br /&gt;A day passed, then a week, then a month.&lt;br /&gt;Before I could blink, it was graduation day.&lt;br /&gt;I watched as her perfect body&lt;br /&gt;floated like an angel&lt;br /&gt;up on stage&lt;br /&gt;Graduation:-&lt;br /&gt;A day passed, then a week, then a month.&lt;br /&gt;Before I could blink, it was graduation day.&lt;br /&gt;I watched as her perfect body&lt;br /&gt;floated like an angel&lt;br /&gt;up on stage to get her diploma.&lt;br /&gt;I wanted her to be mine-but&lt;br /&gt;she didn't notice me like that, and I knew it.&lt;br /&gt;Before everyone went home,&lt;br /&gt;she came to me in her smock and hat,&lt;br /&gt;and cried as I hugged her.&lt;br /&gt;Then she lifted her head from my shoulder&lt;br /&gt;and said- 'you're my best friend,&lt;br /&gt;thanks' and gave me a kiss on the cheek.&lt;br /&gt;I want to tell her,&lt;br /&gt;I want her to know&lt;br /&gt;that I don't want to be just friends,&lt;br /&gt;I love her but I'm just too shy,&lt;br /&gt;and I don't know why.&lt;br /&gt;Marriage:-&lt;br /&gt;Now I sit in the pews of the church.&lt;br /&gt;That girl is getting married now.&lt;br /&gt;and drive off to her new life,&lt;br /&gt;married to another man.&lt;br /&gt;I wanted her to be mine,&lt;br /&gt;but she didn't see me like that,&lt;br /&gt;and I knew it.&lt;br /&gt;But before she drove away,&lt;br /&gt;she came to me She said 'thanks' and kissed me on the cheek.&lt;br /&gt;I want to tell her,&lt;br /&gt;I want her to know&lt;br /&gt;that I don't want to be just friends,&lt;br /&gt;I love her but I'm just too shy,&lt;br /&gt;and I don't know why.&lt;br /&gt;Death:-&lt;br /&gt;Years passed, I looked down at the coffin&lt;br /&gt;of a girl who used to be my 'best friend'.&lt;br /&gt;At the service, they read a diary entry&lt;br /&gt;she had wrote in her high school years.&lt;br /&gt;This is what it read:&lt;br /&gt;'I stare at him wishing he was mine,&lt;br /&gt;but he doesn't notice me like that,&lt;br /&gt;and I know it.&lt;br /&gt;I want to tell him,&lt;br /&gt;I want him to know that&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to be just friends,&lt;br /&gt;I love him but I'm just too shy,&lt;br /&gt;and I don't know why.&lt;br /&gt;I wish he would tell me he loved me !&lt;br /&gt;.........'I wish I did too...'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1168779235262173933-5642443477041163584?l=stillromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/5642443477041163584/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2009/12/story-8.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/5642443477041163584'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/5642443477041163584'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2009/12/story-8.html' title='Story 8'/><author><name>Jijo Sunny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07919766403796730620</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f3lmmUQnHr0/SyY5segsDeI/AAAAAAAAAC8/FMzXXa-EACM/S220/jijo1-350x262.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1168779235262173933.post-3959318788954090966</id><published>2009-12-11T23:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-01T10:35:52.319-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love Stories'/><title type='text'>Story 7</title><content type='html'>I have a boyfriend who grew up with me. His name is Jin. I always thought of him as a friend until last year, when we went to a trip from a club. I found that I fell in love with him. Before that trip was over, I took a step and confessed my love for him. And soon, we became a pair of lovers, but we loved each other in different ways. I always concentrated on him only, but byhis side, there were so many other girls. To me, he was the only one, but to him, maybe I was just another girl…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1168779235262173933-3959318788954090966?l=stillromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/3959318788954090966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2009/12/to-me-he-was-only-one-but-for-him.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/3959318788954090966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/3959318788954090966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2009/12/to-me-he-was-only-one-but-for-him.html' title='Story 7'/><author><name>Jijo Sunny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07919766403796730620</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f3lmmUQnHr0/SyY5segsDeI/AAAAAAAAAC8/FMzXXa-EACM/S220/jijo1-350x262.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1168779235262173933.post-8053498372460134341</id><published>2009-12-11T22:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-01T10:35:56.744-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love Stories'/><title type='text'>Story 6</title><content type='html'>One night a guy and girl were driving home from the movies. The boy sensed there was something wrong because of the painful silence they shared between them that night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The girl then asked the boy to pull over on a side because she wanted to talk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She told him that her feelings had changed and that it was time to move on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A silent tear slid down his cheek as he slowly reached into his pocket and passed her a folded note.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At that moment, a drunk driver was speeding down that very same street. He swerved right into the drivers seat, killing the boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miraculously, the girl survived. Remembering the note, she pulled it out and read it.&lt;br /&gt;" Without your love, I would die."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1168779235262173933-8053498372460134341?l=stillromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/8053498372460134341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2009/12/without-your-love-i-would-die.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/8053498372460134341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/8053498372460134341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2009/12/without-your-love-i-would-die.html' title='Story 6'/><author><name>Jijo Sunny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07919766403796730620</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f3lmmUQnHr0/SyY5segsDeI/AAAAAAAAAC8/FMzXXa-EACM/S220/jijo1-350x262.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1168779235262173933.post-4998114122531266200</id><published>2009-12-11T22:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-01T10:36:01.900-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love Stories'/><title type='text'>Story 5</title><content type='html'>A real story of a Boy (Written by Himself)&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;Well am a Hindu.... i fell in love in 2008 wid a Muslim girl . i am in 11th and the girl i loved is my senior in 12th.... i knew her from my 10th .... i made her my sister .... well she helped me out wid other girls and affairs.... but i fell in love wid her itself in 11th and she was the one to propose me .... i was not serious at start but we were in total commitment later.... then ther was this guy and he always wud stick to my Gf and evn she will stick to him .... i always complained to her for this but she always said they are just Best frnds.... well never minded .... all was good when one day suddenly .... she msged me on phone...."Harsh i just had a chat wid my mom and she has said me not to have contact wid other religion boys blah blah...."and said wat ever was between us was just not right.... Gawd wth.... now she has not talked to me from almost a month tho i still love her and nothings gonna change my love for her....EVEN THOUGH SHE HATES ME&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1168779235262173933-4998114122531266200?l=stillromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/4998114122531266200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2009/12/brutal-girl-who-left-me-for-religious.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/4998114122531266200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/4998114122531266200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2009/12/brutal-girl-who-left-me-for-religious.html' title='Story 5'/><author><name>Jijo Sunny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07919766403796730620</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f3lmmUQnHr0/SyY5segsDeI/AAAAAAAAAC8/FMzXXa-EACM/S220/jijo1-350x262.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1168779235262173933.post-4710578990644443447</id><published>2009-12-11T11:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-04-14T22:31:32.445-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love Stories'/><title type='text'>Story 4</title><content type='html'>Billy loved Katie with all his heart. But he never told a Single soul. Katie secretly loved him too. But she thought she would never have a chance with him. Billy asked his friends what they think of her and his friends thought she was gay. They didn't like her at all. So Billy just went along with them. They all made fun of her and made her feel really bad. Katie was so upset.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day they followed her home from school making fun of her the whole way home. Once she got inside her house she dropped to the floor cringe. She had a crush on Billy since 3rd grade. She didn't know what to do. When Billy got home he felt real bad about what he had done. So he decided to go to Katie's house to tell her he was sorry and that he really loves her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he got there he knocked on the door no one answered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The door was open so he walked in. He walked into the living room and found Katie lying dead on the floor. She had slit her wrists. Billy was so up set . He knew it was his fault she killed her self. And now he could never tell her how he really felt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lesson of this story is: Don't wait to until the last minute to tell someone how you really feel. Because it just might be too late. And don't always go by what your friends say, follow your heart.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1168779235262173933-4710578990644443447?l=stillromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/4710578990644443447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2009/12/story-4.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/4710578990644443447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/4710578990644443447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2009/12/story-4.html' title='Story 4'/><author><name>Arun Kishor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08950527370571975358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S3vcgvv-rnI/AAAAAAAAAGk/AcTznAn3nIU/S220/DSC02849.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1168779235262173933.post-6337252677027069254</id><published>2009-12-11T08:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-25T00:31:16.258-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love Stories'/><title type='text'>story 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Most romantic Scene from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (7)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Harry will you come in here for a moment'&lt;br /&gt;It was Ginny.Ron came to an abrupt halt, but Hermione took him by the elbow and tugged him up the stairs. Feeling nervous, Harry followed Ginny into her room.&lt;br /&gt;He had never been inside it before. It was small, but bright. A desk stood facing the open window, which looked out over the orchard where he and Ginny had played once two-side Quiddich with Ron and Hermione, and which now housed a large, pearly white marque. The golden flag on the top level with Ginny's window.&lt;br /&gt;Ginny looked up into Harry's face, took a deep breath and said, 'Happy seventeenth'&lt;br /&gt;'yeah thanks'.(Harry replied)&lt;br /&gt;She was looking at him steadily, he however found it difficult to look back at her; it was like gazing into a brilliant light.&lt;br /&gt;'Nice view', he said feebly, pointing towards the window.&lt;br /&gt;She ignored this. He could not blame her.&lt;br /&gt;'I couldn't think what to get you', She said.&lt;br /&gt;'You didn't have to get me anything'.&lt;br /&gt;She disregarded this too.&lt;br /&gt;'I didn't know what would be useful. Nothing too big , because you wouldn't be able to carry it with you'.&lt;br /&gt;He chanced a glance at her. She was not tearful, that was one of the many wonderful things about Ginny , she was rather weepy. He had sometimes thought that having six brothers might have toughened her up.&lt;br /&gt;She took a step closer to him.&lt;br /&gt;'So i thought, I'd like you to have something to remember me, you know, if you meet some Veela when you're off doing whatever Dumbledore left you'&lt;br /&gt;'I thing dating opportunities are going to be pretty thin on the ground to be honest'.&lt;br /&gt;'There's the silver lining  have been looking for', She whispered, and then she was kissing him as she had never kissed him before, and Harry was kissing her back, and it was blissful oblivion, better than firewisky ; she was the only thing in the world, Ginny, the feel of her, one hand at her back and one on her long, sweet smelling hair-&lt;br /&gt;The door banged open behind him, slightly out of breath. There was a strained silence, the Ginny said in a flat little voice , 'Well, happy birthday anyway , Harry'.&lt;br /&gt;Ron's ears went scarlet, Hermione looked nervous. Harry wanted to slam the door on her faces, but it felt as though a cold drought has entered the room when the door banged open and his shining moment have popped like a soap bubble. All the reasons for ending his relationship with Ginny, for staying away from her, seemed to have slunk inside the room with Ron, and all happy forgetfulness was gone.&lt;br /&gt;He looked at Ginny, wanting to say something, though he hardly knew what, but she had turned her back on him. He thought that she might have succumbed, for once, in tears. He could not do anything to comfort her in front of Ron.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1168779235262173933-6337252677027069254?l=stillromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/6337252677027069254/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2009/12/story-2.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/6337252677027069254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/6337252677027069254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2009/12/story-2.html' title='story 2'/><author><name>Arun Kishor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08950527370571975358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S3vcgvv-rnI/AAAAAAAAAGk/AcTznAn3nIU/S220/DSC02849.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1168779235262173933.post-659736471063924717</id><published>2009-12-11T08:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-04-14T22:31:46.559-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love Stories'/><title type='text'>Story 3</title><content type='html'>Once there was a rose...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who had lost her red color...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But even then she was lucky...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because she had a true lover..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He could fly in the air...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And jump in the sky...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was the rose’s lover...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A beautiful butterfly...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He would console her...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whenever she cried...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to keep her happy..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He always tried...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He could have left her…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she lost her red color...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But he dint do so…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coz he was her true lover...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But when she cried wit her eyes out...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Demanding for her lost redness...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He could thing of nothing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To give her back...her happiness..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To see her happy…he dint even think for a second time...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He went above her…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cut himself with a thorn...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And poured on her the blood shower..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was happy…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As she got her redness back…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But more than happy…she was sad…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because her life had now become black..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though on now being a red rose…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was not red…Because her happiness had gone away…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With her lover’s death&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was left all alone now...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With her redness&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As her actual happiness was gone...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Filling her life with sadness...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1168779235262173933-659736471063924717?l=stillromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/659736471063924717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/659736471063924717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2009/12/story-3.html' title='Story 3'/><author><name>Arun Kishor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08950527370571975358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S3vcgvv-rnI/AAAAAAAAAGk/AcTznAn3nIU/S220/DSC02849.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1168779235262173933.post-4720830758674402913</id><published>2009-12-11T06:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-25T00:31:47.607-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love Stories'/><title type='text'>Story 1</title><content type='html'>A boy had cancer and could live only 1month ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he love a girl who work on a CD SHOP&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he never had courage to tell her that he LOVES HER&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he daily went to her shop and bought 1CD just to talk to her&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;after 1month boy didnt cum ....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;girl went to his house ..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His mother told her he died , and took her into his room&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;girl saw there that all CDS are unopened ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She started crying a lot and died cuz&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in every CD she WROTE HIM LOVE LETTER.... bEcuz She LOVED Him Too....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1168779235262173933-4720830758674402913?l=stillromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/4720830758674402913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2009/12/story-1.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/4720830758674402913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1168779235262173933/posts/default/4720830758674402913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stillromantic.blogspot.com/2009/12/story-1.html' title='Story 1'/><author><name>Arun Kishor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08950527370571975358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GfkAw473-08/S3vcgvv-rnI/AAAAAAAAAGk/AcTznAn3nIU/S220/DSC02849.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
