Quotes About Affection

je ne savais rien exprimer du transport nouveau de mon cÅ"ur; mais je pressais sa tête contre mon cÅ"ur et sur son front mes lèvres par où mon âme s'écoulait.

it was not so much friends I loved as friendship (pp 15 - The Immoralist)

et déjà je ne souhaitais plus rien au-delà de son sourire, et que de marcher avec elle, ainsi, dans un tiède chemin bordé de fleurs, en lui donnant la main.

But when he sat on the bed beside me, then leaned over and kissed my forehead, my cheek, my lips, his hand pressed to my rib cage, the other stroking my hair back, it was like I was an empty well and didn't know it until just now when he uncovered me and it started to rain.

I wished for nothing beyond her smile, and to walk with her thus, hand in hand, along a sun warmed, flower bordered path.

No one should be deprived of love without the very best of reasons.

Mamma loves morals," she said, at eleven, "Papa loves cats.

All he wanted was to be young together and in love. Too much to ask? "Nobody gets that," she would say. "Nobody. Your problem is you're convinced you have a type." He would say of course he had a type, and she would say: "Give that up. Find someone who treats you decently.

I need you to do my bow tie. I forget how because I know you never will. Prizes aren't love, but this is love.

No one has ever been hopelessly in love with me." "No," Carlos says. "You always gave them hope, didn't you?

They might have done, many of them. So many people will do. But once you've actually been in love, you can't live with "will do"; it's worse than living with yourself.

Be in love, you will be happy.

They might have done, many of them. So many people will do. But once you've actually been in love, you can't live with will do; it's worse than living with yourself.

No one has ever been hopelessly in love with me. No, Carlos says. You always gave them hope, didn't you?

Perhaps because he grew up on the Eastern Seaboard, where affection was kept in the cupboard with the hurricane lamps, or perhaps it was merely because his parents, including a loving mother who, like a famous actor omitting from a script lines she cannot pronounce, simply could not say "I love you." Less used to tease her about this; he knew she loved him, knew this beyond any doubt

Così comincerò dalla fine, dicendovi che siamo tutti il grande amore di qualcuno

The cliche about autism is that the syndrome impedes the ability to love, and I began this research interested in how much a parent could contrive to love a child who could not return the affection. Autistic children often seem to inhabit a world on which external cues have limited impact; they may seem to be neither comforted by nor engaged with their parents are not motivated to gratify them.

And the fascination I experienced was probably very close to a certain kind of love.

The symptom of love is when some of the chemicals inside you go bad. So there must be something in love because your chemicals do tell you something.

Sometimes it is the ones we love the most are what we value the most.

Afterward I always kiss her, my baby, and look into her clear eyes that know everything about me, and want me to be her daddy anyway.

I was so drunk on my feelings for him that all I wanted to do was be with him. Please him. Show him in a thousand ways how much I loved him. Everything else was unimportant.

She's a good person to hug, because her body fills up all the empty spaces.

Webster, as if he's done it every day of his life, as if he did it just the day before, trails his fingers from the small of Sheila's back to the nape of her neck. Sheila turns her head, Go slowly and be careful, she says.