Quotes About Intimacy

Sitting outside on a dark night, under the stars, invites confidences amongst people of all ages, and all walks of life. It invokes an intimacy you don't find under most other circumstances.

When you kiss me, your lips upon mine, your kisses taste so sweet, just like a glass of good wine.

When you love someone deeply, Say it with a flower, And seal it with a kiss.

I can't fathom my love for you, but I know that it makes me want to drown inside of you.

The deeper you love, the deeper you can feel, and the deeper you will understand love.

Be a lover, nother else will matter.

The depth of friendship depends on the depth of our love.

Feel the attraction. Do not resist the love. Give yourself for love.

There is only one thing to learn and that is how to love and how to be loved.

The things we love are secretly loving us in return.

A good pickpocket isn't afraid of intimacy.

By night, Love, tie your heart to mine, and the two together in their sleep will defeat the darkness

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

Poetry and painting are done in the same way you make love; it's an exchange of blood, a total embrace - without caution, without any thought of protecting yourself.

Remember, writing poetry is like making love: one will never know whether one's own pleasure is shared.

The typewriter separated me from a deeper intimacy with poetry, and my hand brought me closer to that intimacy again.

Don't use the phone. People are never ready to answer it. Use poetry.

Moth: I gave you my life. Flame: I allowed you to kiss me.

Lovers alone wear sunlight.

Painting or poetry is made as one makes love - a total embrace, prudence thrown to the winds, nothing held back.

That's not a run in your stocking, it's a hand on your leg.

Sexual activity is driven by the same aims and motives as reading poetry or listening to music: to escape the limitations imposed by the need for particularity in the consciousness.

In this horror of solitude, this need to lose his ego in exterior flesh, which man calls grandly the need for love.

What will they say about my poetry who never touched my blood?