Quotes About Intimacy

A moment passed, perhaps half a second when their faces said what they felt, and then Emma was smiling, laughing, her arms around his neck.

Under her palm, his heart beat strong and sure. It was such a human sound, so honest, so real.

It's wonderful to feel desired. There's a sense of power in it, really.

Everyone knows what falling in love is like but being in love is what people have lost. That intimacy to be in bed with somebody and just laugh and not hold anybody accountable for what they say.

Being in love is not cool!

Love is a disease – ultimately you get sick of each other

Love is based on imagination.

They said a lot of things to each other that night, but nothing that involved words.

Love is deep, a mystery - who wants to understand its every particular?

Blaire, even if all we do is kiss or just lay there and talk, I'm okay with that. I just wanted you up here. Close to me.

I saw you, and I wanted to be close to you. I wanted you to let me in. I wanted to know you in a way no one else did. I wanted you, all of you.

He stares at me so darkly, so hungily that I can only nod. Agree. Of course, I feel it. "I do", I admit.

You cannot force things apart that are bound at the heart.

And without understanding, could each properly love the other?

They said no one knew a man as well as a woman who slept with him.

But certainly not everyday you can find someone who wants to have a monogamous relationship

My heart is ripped open, shredded, leaking blood. I can't let him leave like this. We've been through to much to turn into strangers.

You will know who truly loves you when you ask them to do an uncoventional favor.

A woman could do that to you - reach that place in your soul where the best and worst of you was kept. And once she was there, she owned that place and never left.

I thought about how love was always the thing that did that - smashed into you, left you raw. The deeper you loved, the deeper it hurt.

And I was even beginning to think home might be with you.

But I wondered if all this kissing was a bad habit with him and me. The thing we did with our mouths instead of talking.

She could not bear to look at him just now. If she did, she might well slap him again. Or cry. Or kiss him. And never know which was right and which was wrong and which was madness.

And when it comes, her kiss is like something not so much felt as found.