Quotes About Intimacy

Everything I've always done has been for the sole purpose of increasing my lovemaking output. A lot of guys won't admit that, but I do. I just want to make love.

Even after thousands of years, I want to live in your heart with love, joy, and care.

I may not give you as much love as you want, but I will give you as much as I have.

If you want to be loved, love deeply and get lost in love.

Marriage is the only war in which you sleep with the enemy.

It requires infinitely a greater genius to make love, than to make war.

Love is a war of lightning, and two bodies ruined by a single sweetness.

When a man's making love, the last thing he thinks about is war.

The link between intimate violence in the home and the international violence of terrorism and war is as tightly bound together as the fingers of a clenched fist.

Muchos de Mis líderes están engañados y están engañando a los demás, porque ellos creen que hacer muchas obras y mantenerse ocupados en Mis iglesias es el camino a la seguridad eterna, pero eso es un engaño. Eso sólo se logra a través de la intimidad, de Conocerme de veras, de pasar tiempo, de dedicar tiempo para Conocerme. Esa es la clave de la salvación eterna y la seguridad.

That's the kind of dress that belongs on the floor, all wrinkled up, with the zipper broken and the sleeves torn. That dress isn't right for you at all. In fact, I think you should take it off right now.

He realized that the woman at his side - the one with the sweaty red face and the sweet smile - had pried open his heart, one day at a time.

I love you, Meg. I want to marry you. I want to sleep with you every night, make love with you, have kids. I want to fight together and work together and—just be together. Now are you going to keep standing there, staring at me, or could you put me out of my misery and say you still love me, at least a little?

I have to tell you that I'm not all that comfortable with the idea of spending the rest of my life sleeping next to somebody who's got the power to fire me if my underwear doesn't make it all the way to the hamper." She repressed a smile. "I'm sympathetic to your problem, but I'm not selling the team just so you can be a slob." "Somehow I didn't expect you would.

She loved Bram in a clear-eyed way she'd never loved her ex-husband, no rose-colored glasses or mindless giddiness, no Cinderella fantasies or false certainty that he'd put her life in order. What she felt for Bram was messy, honest, and soul-deep. He felt like…part of her, the best and the worst. Like someone she wanted to struggle through life with; share triumphs and catastrophes; share holidays, birthdays, every days

Now, now. Southern ladies don't French-kiss and tell.

All it means is that, while our minds may have trouble communicating, our bodies don't have any problem at all." "I don't think it's that simple." "Sure it is." "The earth moved," she said softly. "That has to be more than bodies communicating.

You're not having sex with him. I know these guys, and you don't. I'm trusting you with Claudia Reeshman. You need to trust me about Dean Robillard." She wouldn't let him off that easily. "You're looking for a wife. Maybe I'm just looking for a little fun." "If you need fun," he shot back, 'I'll give you fun." She was stunned.

Cut the crap and tell me what color panties you're wearing.

You make me see the world in new ways. You're the first thing my heart greets when I wake up in the morning. You're the last thing I see in my mind before I fall asleep.

He tunneled his dirty hands through her hair and kissed her breathless. Her neck, her eyes, the corners of her mouth. He kissed her lips as if his life depended on it. Kissed their future into her. All they could have and all they could be.

Damn, I love you," Dallie murmured. "My sweet little Fancy Pants, driving me half crazy, nagging me to death." He kissed her again, long and slow. "You're almost the best thing that ever happened to me." "Almost?" she murmured against his lips. "What's the best?" "Being born good-looking." And then he kissed her again.

If you 're serious about getting it on again, be sure to give me some advance notice, so I can grab my appointment calendar and block out three minutes.

Their kisses had gone on and on—cheeks, neck, mouth, and tongue. Seconds . . . minutes . . . hours. Then they'd start all over again. Adults were too fixed on the final goal to take that kind of time. Only teenagers afraid of the next step exchanged kisses that lasted forever.