Quotes About Bosoms

Happiness is a sunbeam, which may pass though a thousand bosoms without losing a particle of its original ray.

Happiness is a sunbeam, Which may pass through a thousand bosoms Without losing a particle of its original ray Nay, when it strikes on a kindred heart, Like the converged light on a mirror, It reflects itself with redoubled brightness. It is not perfected till it is shared.

If you ask me, it's all these skinny models that make girls anorexic, she went on, to Auntie Barbara. I can't think why they don't use real girls with a few curves. Stands to reason, Jenny. Auntie B. was as pinkly flushed as Mum. All the designers are gay—they don't want bosoms in their clothes, or bottoms, either. Not proper, girls' bottoms.

It is a scene of Satyrs and Nymphs, of pursuits and captures, provocative resistances followed by the enthusiastic surrender of lips to bearded lips, of panting bosoms to the impatience of rough hands, the whole accompanied by a babel of shouting, squealing and shrill laughter

It was only in the bosoms of Mrs. Nobes, Mrs. Cayman, and Mrs. Mandragore that hatred still reigned undiminished. Being ladies and old-fashioned, they had drunk almost no wine.

Joy all creatures drink At nature's bosoms...

How long did they stand there? Both, as it were, caught in that circle of unearthly light, understanding each other perfectly, creatures of another world, and wondering what they were to do in this one with all this blissful treasure that burned in their bosoms and dropped, in silver flowers, from their hair and hands?

Happiness is a sunbeam which may pass through a thousand bosoms without losing a particle of its original ray; nay, when it strikes on a kindred heart, like the converged light on a mirror, it reflects itself with redoubled brightness. It is not perfected till it is shared.

Yet, should our feeble efforts nought avail,   Should, after all, our best endeavours fail;   Still, let some mercy in your bosoms live,   And, if you can't applaud, at least forgive.

What is poetry but impassioned truth — philosophy in its essence — the spirit of that bright consummate flower, whose root is in our bosoms?

The mighty bosoms of Big-Boobied Bertha had killed many a Warrior in mortal combat.