Quotes About Affection

loved her more than ever when she said things like that.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, the BFG leaned forward and kissed her gently on the cheek.

The more you love, the more you can love--and the more intensely you love. Nor is there any limit on how many you can love. If a person had time enough, he could love all of that majority who are decent and just.

The more you love, the more you can love—and the more intensely you love. Nor is there any limit on how many you can love. If a person had time enough, he could love all of that majority who are decent and just. Masturbation is cheap, clean, convenient, and free of any possibility of wrongdoing—and you don't have to go home in the cold. But it's lonely.

There are kisses and kisses. Some are given in sport and some in passion. There are formal kisses of greeting and departure, and there are perfunctory pecks of accustomed affection. Once in a great while lips meet and two spirits merge for a time and the universe is right and complete and the planets wheel in their proper places. Once in a while the lonely, broken spirit of man is healed and made whole. For a while his quest is over and his questions are answered.

Little Brother...precious darling...little imp with lively legs and lovely lewd lascivious lecherous licentious libido...beautiful bumps and pert posterior...with soft voice and gentle hands. My baby darling.

I grok people now, Jill . . . Little Brother . . . precious darling . . . little imp with lively legs and lovely lewd lascivious lecherous licentious libido . . . beautiful bumps and pert posterior . . . soft voice and gentle hands. My baby darling." "Why

I NEVER SAW Susan without feeling a small but discernible thrill. The thrill was mixed with a feeling of gratitude that she was with me, and a feeling of pride that she was with me, and a feeling of arrogance that she was fortunate to be with me. But mostly it was just a quick pulse along the ganglia which, if it were audible, would sound a little like woof.

There is excitement in a new kiss, but there is a quality of memory and intimacy in kissing someone you've kissed often before. I

I want her with me," I said, "and more than that, I want her to want to be with me.

I kissed her. There is excitement in a new kiss, but there is a quality of memory and intimacy in kissing someone you've kissed often before. I liked the quality. Maybe continuity is better than change.

SUSAN AND I made love at her house, we had to shut Pearl the wonder dog out of the bedroom, because if we didn't, Pearl would attempt tirelessly to insinuate herself between us. Neither

It's like I need to love you to come back whole from where I sometimes go.

You walked a mile in the rain to drink hot water?" "To be with you," she said. "You're better than pie." And I turned under the umbrella and embraced her with my free arm and pressed my mouth against hers and held her hard against me and smelled her perfume and closed my eyes and kissed her for a long time in the still rain, and even after

SUSAN AND PEARL and I were in bed together. I loved Pearl, but my preference had always been a ménage à deux. "At least she wasn't in here during," I said to Susan.

And it's the reason I wanted you to live with me." "Not because I am cuter than a bug's ear?" "That too," Susan said. "But mostly I wanted to pretend to be what I had never been.

I had my arm around her shoulder. She had her head against my neck. "Postcoital languor," she said, "is almost as good as inducing it.

You'll love me yet!--and I can tarry Your love's protracted growing: June reared that bunch of flowers you carry, From seeds of April's sowing. I plant a heartful now: some seed At least is sure to strike, And yield--what you'll not pluck indeed, Not love, but, may be, like. You'll look at least on love's remains, A grave's one violet: Your look?--that pays a thousand pains. What's death? You'll love me yet!

But to see her was to love her, Love but her, and love forever.

Had we never lov'd sae kindly, Had we never lov'd sae blindly, Never met -- or never parted -- we had ne'er been broken-hearted

He looks at me fondly. I know that the look doesn't have love in it. Or even lust. I still wonder about love or sex or lust. I saw lust in his eyes when he looked at that girl on the sidewalk … I love him, anyway. I love him because he's kind to me and he doesn't want my body, doesn't want to feel me or touch me, like all the others … and maybe after a while he might look at me with more than fondness, will kiss me sweetly, tenderly.

You don't have to deserve your mother's love. You have to deserve your father's.

Come, be my love in the wet woods, come, Where the boughs rain when it blows.

Everything looks better at a distance. If you made it up, you have to live it down. Everything is compost. There is no they—only us. It's a mistake to believe everything you think. You can get used to anything. Sometimes things are just as bad as they seem. It helps if you always have somebody to kiss goodnight.