Quotes About Kiss

You do things just to irritate me, don't you?" Smiling, enjoying himself immensely, and determined to give her a wonderful and relaxing weekend, Van pushed Irene's wet hair from her face. "Don't be silly, doc." He kissed her lips, nuzzled her chin. "Of course I do things just to irritate you.

Reaching out, Lock snagged Blayne by the forearm and pulled her back. "When this is over, she still better love me." "Don't worry about anything," Blayne promised. She leaped up and kissed his cheek. "You're the bestest bear ever." "Yeah, but I better not be the loneliest," he called after her.

It was the first time that I had ever been romantically kissed. It was even better than the chocolate cake.

That's the last time you're going to kiss me," I warned when it ended. He smiled knowingly, and in his eyes, I could see his own memories of that night. "So you say.

We kissed for about the thousandth time, No promises, no demands, Just solid rebuilding of shattered trust.

The only rules he wanted to remember were "never kiss a girl whose brothers have knife scars" and "never gamble without knowning a back way out

To describe a kiss is to describe a diary entry or a pair of underwear—each is personal and private, slightly awkward. Very awkward. But necessary.

As a result of a kiss, there arises in the mind a wonderful feeling of delight that awakens and binds together the love of them that kiss.

And then, when I was at my lowest ebb, you came. And you somehow coaxed me into talking to you as though you were a trusted confidant. And then you flirted with me. For a few moments you bore me off with you to the sunshine above the clouds in a hot air balloon, wrapped together in warm furs and bound for a place far, far away. And then you kissed me.

Did people... really kiss like that? She had had NO idea. She had imagined being kissed, and in her imagination she had been swept away by the sheer romance of the meeting of lips. In her naivete she had not considered the possibility that a kiss, as a prelude to sexual activity, might have powerful effects on parts of her body, in fact, even parts she had been only half aware of possessing. She ached and throbbed in all sorts of unfamiliar places

It was those blue eyes that were really to blame, of course, but then, in all fairness, she had to admit that he was not really responsible for those. She could not look away from them even when they came closer. Finally, when she could focus no longer she had to close her eyes. But that did nothing to break the spell because by that time his mouth was on hers.

The trouble was that one's mind did not work quite rationally when one was being kissed by the only man one had ever loved, and the man one had loved so totally that no one had ever been able to take his place.

She had kissed him back, eagerly, inexpertly . . . and had rashly gazed into his eyes afterward and told him with passionate conviction that she loved him, that she would always, always love him.

Do you love me? she asked him, lifting her face to his . . . He kissed her. She clung to him, tasting his answer in his mouth.

He doubtless thought I had you in the bushes ravishing you. Well, she said, you must admit that you had something not too far distant from that on your mind. A kiss? he said. Similar to ravishment? You malign me. I was about to kiss you, Diana, in the tradition of true romance.

That kiss! The memory of it, brief as it had been, so consumed her with embarrassment that her mind shied away from it altogether—and could think of nothing else. Not just the kiss but the mortifying knowledge that she had burned for him, that her womb had throbbed with the need to feel him there. Mortifying indeed!

He opened his mouth over hers.

She willed herself to show no emotion. She steeled herself for the kiss on the hand that she half expected. She came near to crumbling when he kissed her instead, very gently, on the lips. Had he not gone immediately, in fact, without even stopping to look into her face again, he would have seen the tears spring to her eyes; he would have heard the sobs that felt as if they would tear her ribs apart. But he had gone.

When When it's over, it's over, and we don't know any of us, what happens then. So I try not to miss anything. I think, in my whole life, I have never missed The full moon or the slipper of its coming back. Or, a kiss. Well, yes, especially a kiss.

I give them- one, two, three, four- the kiss of courtesy, of sweet thanks, of anger, of good luck in the deep earth. May they sleep well. May they soften. But I will not give them the kiss of complicity. I will not give them the responsability for my life.

No matter what the world claims, its wisdom always growing, so it's said, some things don't alter with time: the first kiss is a good example, and the flighty sweetness of rhyme.

But perhaps you're still sleeping. I could wake you with a touch or a kiss. But so could I shake the petals from the wild rose which blossoms so silently and perfectly, and I do not.

In this early dancing of a new day— dogs leaping on the beach, dolphins leaping not far from shore— someone is bending over me, is kissing me slowly.

Oh, come to me in dreams, my love! I will not ask a dearer bliss; Come with the starry beams, my love, And press mine eyelids with thy kiss.