Quotes About Intimacy

Here — your shirt , he said, after. Lifting it. Bringing it to me as if it were not a shirt but a thing immaculate, or in flames, or— with a single sword positioned through it— a sacred heart.

The collapse in evangelical doctrinal consensus is intimately related to the collapse in the understanding of, and role assigned to, Scripture as God's Word spoken within the church.

To use a distinction deployed by philosopher Roger Scruton, pornography is about bodies, not faces. If sex is just about my pleasure, any body will do as a partner. But in a marriage, the specific identity of the sexual partners is critical. The purpose of sex is not to have sex but to make love, to reinforce a relationship with a particular person—or, to use Scruton's terminology, with a face, not just with a body.

In that instant of eye contact, in the mesmerizing depths of that sweet emotion, she felt bound to him in a way she'd never felt connected to another man. It was as if in that moment their hearts and minds, their very souls, were one.

He lay there watching her, and when she continued to unbutton her dress, his smile widened. "Mr. Reed, you realize that if anything we do tonight causes you a medical problem, Mr. Wilburn will give you such a scold," she said, hoping that she sounded more serene than she felt. "I'm all aquiver about Mr. Wilburn," he said.

Questo era l'amore: qualcosa che riscaldava il cuore e stringeva le membra.

È proprio questo il bello di volersi bene: che c'è una persona alla quale si può dire tutto.

O amor é grande e cabe nesta janela sobre o mar. O mar é grande e cabe na cama e no colchão de amar. O amor é grande e cabe no breve espaço de beijar.

I fuck with every book, and if I don't leave a mark, there's no orgasm.

I don't suppose you have many friends. Neither do I. I don't trust people who say they have a lot of friends. It's a sure sign that they don't really know anyone.

Bea says that the art of reading is slowly dying, that it's an intimate ritual, that a book is a mirror that offers us only what we already carry inside us, that when we read, we do it with all our heart and mind, and great readers are becoming more scarce by the day.

For three weeks, we slept in the same bed together. We never had sex. We never kissed. We never took off more clothes than our pants. We just dreamed together. The conversations were brief. We didn't go on any dates. We didn't get to know each other. It was just a sleeping arrangement. To her, I was just a stuffed animal with a heartbeat.

But we were madly in love! I didn't even consider leaving her because of her ghost vagina. She meant everything to me. I loved her this >< much! (That means infinitely).

Nobody else gets all of me. Only you." He brushed my hair off of my cheek. "I only expect one thing in exchange." I raised my eyebrows. "What would that be?" "All of you.

Nobody else gets all of me. Only you.

You're not firing me?" she asked… He smiled, something that seemed to come easier around her. "No, I'm not firing you." "Then what are you doing with me?" "This." He hooked an arm around her waist, pulled her close, and sealed his lips over hers.

for Julian. The only person he'd

They could never guess, in the silences.. That all I want is you, And the Sexy Hurricane that we share.

and declining all efforts at closeness or intimacy. "James just doesn't seem to want me," I wrote in my diary. "Bastard, I hate him. Why do I love him so? Why don't I love a Giver? I suppose I need enough elusiveness to keep me feeling as unworthy as I believe myself to be. Perhaps James has

Dinner is a great first date. Don't believe that stuff about girls not wanting to eat on a first date - sharing a romantic meal is so sexy.

Yo me quedé despierta viéndole dormir, quería ver qué cosas soñaba...

Her husband didn't lust after her anymore.

I like pouring your tea, lifting the heavy pot, and tipping it up, so the fragrant liquid steams in your china cup. Or when you're away or at work, I like to think of your cupped hands as you sip, as you sip, of the faint half-smile of your lips.

When did your name change from a proper noun to a charm? Its three vowels like jewels on the thread of my breath. Its consonants brushing my mouth like a kiss. I love your name. I say it again and again in this summer rain. I see it, discreet in the alphabet, like a wish. I pray it into the night till its letters are light. I hear your name rhyming, rhyming, rhyming with everything. "Name