Quotes About Affection

He has resolved that I shall not miss the offices of father, brother, friend, nor the tenderness and sympathy of them all. And this man is called a mere man of the world, and would be called so rightly if the world were a place for angels. I shall love him dearly and gratefully to my last breath; we both shall....

My Flush is as well as ever, and perhaps gayer than ever I knew him. He runs out in the piazza whenever he pleases, and plays with the dogs when they are pretty enough, and wags his tail at the sentinels and civic guard

For those who are still nearer to me, I have no heart to speak of them, loving them as I do and must to the end, whatever that end may be; but my dearest sisters write often to me — never let me miss their affection. I am quite well again, and strong, and Robert and I go out after tea in a wandering walk to sit in the Loggia and look at the Perseus, or, better still, at the divine sunsets on the Arno, turning it to pure gold under the bridges.

You have to tell us too of your dear mother — Robert is so anxious about her always. How deeply and tenderly he loves her and all of you, never could have been more manifest than now when he is away from you and has to talk of you instead of to you.

I love and think of you always. Fancy Flush being taken in the light of a rival by baby! Oh, baby was quite jealous the other day, and strugggled and kicked to get to me because he saw Flush leaning his pretty head on my lap. There's a great strife for privileges between those two.

While I throw off the ceremony, I hold the faster to the kindness.

She's my whole goddamned world.

She was my mother and she smiled at me, and held out her her hand.

Carel looked at me, stricken. Bound to me, and by more than tangles in my hair.

Her name was Niyara, and she had green eyes, and she said she loved me. She said she was my best friend, that I was family to her. She said a lot of things.

She leaned into the embrace for a long, quiet moment, listening to the pounding of his heart.

Kit turned to him and blinked, candlelight cupping his cheek like a hand.

He slapped her on the vambrace, rough affection but-for their family-an extreme display, and sealed his face plate with the other hand.

Oh, Kit. Were you ever priveleged to love where love was not given first elsewhere? Even once?

She swallowed uncomfortable dryness at the unprecedented endearment, trying not to remember he'd been as affectionate to Mr. Priest when she was not meant to overhear.

Mehiel, my brother, I dare say the one thou lovest doth care for thee, as well.

This is as close to an act of love as thou wilt ever taste.

My rival," he whispered, his lips moving against Cathoair's own as Cathoair tried not to understand. "My sister has excellent taste. What a fragile, beautiful boy thou art.

Michelangelo lifted his chin, turned, and gave Vincent a smile warm enough to melt his implants. He glanced over his shoulder, as if ascertaining the lounge was empty, then learned forward, slid both hands up Vincent's neck, and pulled Vincent's head down to plant a warm, tender kiss on his lips.

Tristen had been alone so long that the affectionate proximity of another organic chipped at his rough edges, like wear smoothing a rusted bearing, and what was left functioned better than the grief-etched surfaces of before.

Kit bumped Matthew with his shoulder, the way, once upon a time, he might have nudged another friend.

Wait," the necromancer said, and kissed her around that silencing finger. "Gently, Rien. It's not about getting it over with as fast as possible, my sweet.

Love, all I want is to make love to somebody who knows my name.

Sebastien had raised Jack Priest, and for all his fey flighty affection, Garrett's estimation of the young man was that he was a keenly trained observer, and one who knew that the most relevant clues were sometimes those that seemed incomprehensible at the time. And that that ostensible delicacy masked a galvanized will. She kept a terrier. She knew the type.