Quotes About Kisses

I had seen the struggle to love and make one's self understood, the refusal of two persons in conversation to give themselves to each other, the coming together of two lovers, the lovers with an infectious smile, who are lovers in name only, who bury themselves in kisses, who press wound to wound to cure themselves, between whom there is really no attachment, and who, in spite of their ecstasy deriving light from shadow, are strangers as much as the sun and the moon are strangers.

You live your life as if it's real.......a thousand kisses deep

I almost went to bed without remembering the four white violets I put in the button-hole of your green sweater and how i kissed you then and you kissed me shy as though I'd never been your lover

there's no forsaking what you love no existential leap as witnessed here in time and blood a thousand kisses deep

Love me this first day of June. I'd rather sleep with ashes than priestly wisdom. Of all the lonely places in the world this is best where debris is human. I kiss the precious ashes that fall from fiery flesh. On these familiar shapes I lay my kisses down.

The band is playing Auld Lang Syne But the heart will not retreat There's no forsaking what you love No existential leap As witnessed here in time and blood A thousand kisses deep

I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says "Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.

I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, "Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.

You are always new, the last of your kisses was ever the sweetest.

les beaux bras ronds des femmes, les lèvres qui s'appointent

I like such kisses. They fill the mouth and leave the body free. To kiss well one must kiss solely. No groping hands or stammering hearts. The lips and the lips alone are the pleasure. Passion is sweeter split strand by strand. Divided and re-divided like mercury then gathered up only at the last moment.

From that day on, it was the desert that would be important. She would look to it everyday, and would try to guess which star the boy was following in search of his treasure. She would have to send her kisses on the wind hoping that the wind would touch the boy's face, and would tell him that she was alive.

I dreamt my lady came and found me dead . . . . . . . . . . . . And breathed such life with kisses in my lips That I revived and was an emperor.

Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty.

He kiss'd, –the last of many doubled kisses, –this orient pearl.

High heels were invented by a woman who had been kissed on the forehead.

Lo besaba porque sabía que las oportunidades eran escasas para que tuviera muchos besos como este en su vida.

He remembered as never before how exquisite and beautiful she was, and her kisses tasting of crème de menthe and her fragrance of Coty perfume would be new and sweeter than ever after the coca and the rustic perfumes of these valleys. What a feeling of satin, that of her red lips under his cracked by the wind and the sun! The astonishment in her blue eyes when he related his odyssey through these wild mountains!

Yes, my sweet villain, my darling god. I will be as sober as a stone carving, just as soon as I can." And with that, he kisses me on the mouth.

Hazel kissed boys for all kinds of reasons -- because they were cute, because she was a little drunk, because she was bored, because they let her, because it was fun, because they looked lonely, because it blotted out her fears for a while, because she wasn't sure how many kisses she had left.

Locke brings me a thimbleful of liquor, and I take a tiny scalding sip for the sake of politeness. I start coughing immediately. At that moment, Cardan's gaze goes to me. His eyes are barely open, but I can see the shine of them, wet as tar. He watches me as the girl kisses his mouth, watches me as she slides her hand beneath the hem of his silly, ruffly shirt.

I don't have a lot of experience with kisses. There was Locke, and before him, no one. But kissing Locke never felt the way that kissing Cardan does, like taking a dare to run over knives, like an adrenaline strike of lightning, like the moment when you've swum too far out in the sea and there is no going back, only cold black water closing over your head.

We trade kisses in the darkness, blurred by exhaustion.

Mostly, his obligations appear to be allowing his ring-covered hands to be kissed and accepting the blandishments of the Folk. I'm sure he enjoys that part of it- the kisses, the bowing and scraping. He's certainly enjoying the wine.