I moved to the Italian capital and married a fumigator. But we got divorced because after a while the Rome ants was all gone.
You know you’ve won a polygamist’s heart when he says the magic words, “I love few.”
I want to dip you in melted cheese! I’m just so fondue you.
I fell in love with a saint. It was like, “You had me at halo.”
My sister is marrying an organ thief. She says she wants a man after her own heart, someone who can de-liver her from her troubles, and who’ll take care of her two little kidneys after she’s gone.
As for me, I married a woman who had her face surgically removed. For love no nose limits.
Compared to a pig, falling in love with a rodent is nothing. Especially when it’s the pork you pine.
Want to marry a river horse? I won’t hippos you. Or a horned ungulate? Sure, love has neither rhino reason.
When you go on a date with an eros pace engineer, you have to take it slow.
What did the deer say to the sheep? “I’m very faun of ewe.“
Arguments about love tend to be amorphuss.