Quotes About Intimacy

I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears of all my life.

The choicest thing this world has for a man is affection.

Who is wise in love, love most, say least.

See there's this place in me where your fingerprints still rest, your kisses still linger, and your whispers softly echo. It's the place where a part of you will forever be a part of me.

I want to give you some love, I want to give you some good good lovin'.

My God, these folks don't know how to love -- that's why they love so easily.

You talk too much, you laugh too loud, that's the price of love.

Let's commit the perfect crime, I'll steal your heart and you'll steal mine.

The bravest thing that men do is love women.

Mon amour à toi toujours Dans tes grands yeux rien que nous deux

To love, for us men, is to clasp one woman with our arms, feeling that she lives and breathes just as we do, suffers as we do, thinks with us, loves with us, and, above all, sins with us.

The pleasure of love is in loving.

Because my love for you is beyond words, I decided to shut up.

There is not an hour that goes by that I do not think of making love to you.

And what is a kiss, specifically? A pledge properly sealed, a promise seasoned to taste, a vow stamped with the immediacy of a lip, a rosy circle drawn around the verb to love. A kiss is a message too intimate for the ear, infinity captured in the bee's brief visit to a flower, secular communication with an aftertaste of heaven, the pulse rising from the heart to utter its name on a lover's lip: 'Forever'.

Make love now, by night and by day, in winter and in summer... You are in the world for that and the rest of life is nothing but vanity, illusion, waste. There is only one science, love, only one riches, love, only one policy, love. To make love is all the law, and the prophets.

It's better to be in love than to watch it.

Oh, they loved dearly: their souls kissed, they kissed with their eyes, they were both but one single kiss.

There are many forms of love and affection, some people can spend their whole lives together without knowing each other's names. Naming is a difficult and time-consuming process; it concerns essences, and it means power. But on the wild nights who can call hyou home? Only the one who knows your name.

For what is the beloved? She is that which I myself am not. In the act of love, I am pure male, and she is pure female. She is she, and I am I, and clasped together with her, I know how perfectly she is not me, now perfectly I am not her, how utterly we are two, the light and the darkness, and how infinetly and eternally, not-to-be-comprehended by either of us is the surpassing One we make.

And you Stood at your Door with your Hands on my Waist and you Kissed me Like you Meant it.

The one who loves most will be the one who wants most to touch the other.

It was cold, and he was coughing. A fine cold draught blew over the knoll. He thought of the woman. Now he would have given all he had or ever might have to hold her warm in his arms, both of them wrapped in one blanket, and sleep. All hopes of eternity and all gain from the past he would have given to have her there, to be wrapped warm with him in one blanket, and sleep, only sleep. It seemed the sleep with the woman in his arms was the only necessity.

Love is like handing someone a gun, having them point it at your heart, and trusting them to never pull the trigger.