Quotes About Kiss

Hey," the cabbie yelled. "How's about a tip?" "You bet-ski," Evie said, heading toward the old Victorian mansion, her long silk scarf trailing behind her. "Don't kiss strange men in Penn Station.

Cash or check?" he said cheekily. Even the dullest Ohio girls knew that bit of lingo: Kiss now or kiss later? "Bank's closed, pal.

Perhaps this is how girls fall -- not in some crime of enchantment at the hands of a wicked ne'er-do-well, a grand before and after in which they are innocent victims who have no say in the matter. Perhaps they simply are kissed and want to kiss back. Perhaps they even kiss first. And why should they not?

And when it comes, her kiss is like something not so much felt as found.

There's no time to be modest. Reason will not work here. Without warning, I kiss Kartik. His lips, pressed firmly against mine, are a surprise. They are warm, light as breath, firm as the give of a peach against my mouth. A scent like scorched cinnamon hangs in the air, but I'm not falling into any vision. It's his smell in me. A smell that makes my stomach drop through my feet. A smell that pushes all thought out of my head and replaces it with an overpowering hunger for more.

He smiles sadly. Now I know my destiny. What is it? This. He draws me in to him in a kiss. His lips are warm. He pulls me tighter in his embrace. The roots sigh and release their hold on my waist and the wound in my side is healed. Kartik, I cry, kissing his cheeks. It's let me go. That's good, he says. He makes a small cry. His back arches, and every muscle in his body tightens.

It was a kiss small in its ministrations but epic in its feeling.

Will this be my life forevermore? Careful tea parties and the quiet fear that I don't belong, that I'm a fraud? I held magic in my hands! I tasted freedom in a land where summer doesn't end. I outsmarted the Rakshana with a boy whose kiss I still feel somehow. was it all for naught? I'd rather not have known any of it than have it snatched away after a taste.

Grinning, he grabbed his fisherman's cap and coat. "I love you," he whispered quietly. "Ikh hob dikh lib." He kissed Evie's head. She rustled in her sleep, turning away. "Fine. I see how it is. I just wasted my best Yiddish on you," Sam joked to himself.

No se puede culpar a un chico por besar a la muchacha más hermosa de Nueva York.

Minor detail. I'm going to kiss you, Marlie—" "I'll bite you again," she swiftly warned. He shrugged. "I always have had more guts than sense," he said, and very gently brushed her mouth with his.

Because she is too ugly to kiss goodbye.

Any man who can drive safely while kissing a pretty girl is simply not giving the kiss the attention it deserves.

Paolo and Francesca were not ideal readers since they confess to Dante that after the first kiss they read no more. Ideal readers would have kissed and then read on.

Finché alla fine ti bacerò sul cuore, perché ti voglio, morderò la pelle che batte sul tuo cuore, perché ti voglio, e con il cuore tra le mie labbra tu sarai mio, davvero, con la mia bocca nel cuore tu sarai mio, per sempre, se non mi credi apri gli occhi signore amato mio e guardamo, sono io, chi potrà mai cancellare questo istante che accade, e questo mio corpo senza più seta, le tue mani che le toccano, i tuoi occhi che lo guardano.

Jenna Morrison kissed her sister, Amber, goodbye, ignoring the shrieks of tiny Sophia, who was swaddled so completely in a baby blanket that her actual presence could not be confirmed by eye, as though she had fallen into a cottony-soft, mint-green black hole.

Desire seizes that man whose soul has been brushed by another man's kiss and, holding him by the collar says: This is your existence -- and it is natural, it is positive, it is good, and it is spinning a new way to be.

Im urgin all daughters to kiss their mothers with those lips that all that lipstick covers. You never too grown up to miss and hug her.

We kiss again. This next kiss is the kind that breaks open the sky. It steals my breath and gives it back. It shows me that every other kiss I've had in my life has been wrong.

When we kiss, his lips on mine are like CPR-- breathing the life back into me.

It was the kind of kiss that made me know that I was never so happy in my whole life.

Which memories will we take with us? The swimming lyricism of paintings, a last breath of a stanza, the mute kiss of a lover? And there is nothing compared to this: lying awake under the truth of you, the wide eyed sleeplessness of lost dreams. — Jill Battson, from "A Goodbye Poem," Canadian Poetry Online

I kissed her, a long hard kiss. Because baby didn't know it, but baby was dead, and in a way I couldn't have loved her more.

Finally, he bent his head and brushed his mouth against hers. It was a light kiss, a feathering as soft as down, but enough to cause her eyes to drift closed as that familiar, shimmering warmth she'd never thought she'd ever feel again began to flow in her veins.