Quotes About Tenderness

He says in dirty hands flowers will die.

It is not the consolations we seek but the Consoler, not their sweetness but the sweet Savior, not their tenderness but him who is the delight of heaven and earth. In this spirit we must resolve to stand fast in a holy love of God even though we may never find any consolation throughout our whole life.

Amor es despertar a una mujer y que no se indigne. (Love is when you wake up a woman and she is not mad at you.)

I lifted him out. I held him. I held that half of him.

Physical love, that impulse that drives you to someone special, as well as love of the other person's being, his or her essence, as it were. Carnal love and, well, call it sentimental love, the day-to-day caring about the other person.

He ran his fingers through my hair. He did it slowly, as if thinking about something else. He ran his fingers through my hair. He did it tenderly, as a lover would.

You tell me you didn't sleep well. I say I didn't either. You had a terrible night. "Me too." We're extraordinarily calm and tender with each other as if sensing the other's rickety state of mind. As if we knew what the other was feeling. We don't, of course. We never do. No matter. It's the tenderness I care about. That's the gift this morning that moves and holds me. Same as every morning.

As Sidda joined Vivi in staring out into the darkness of the fields, where hundreds of sunflowers grew, she thought: I will never fully know my mother, any more than I will ever know my father or Connor, or myself. I have been missing the point. The point is not knowing another person, or learning to love another person. The point is simply this: how tender can we bear to be? What good manners can we show as we welcome ourselves and others into our hearts?

The point is not knowing another person, or learning to love another person. The point is simply this: how tender can we bear to be? What good manners can we show as we welcome ourselves and others in our hearts?

Lullaby I would not sing you to sleep. I would press my lips to your ear and hope the terror in my heart stirs you.

I am a fool who with his longing for love and tenderness runs up cold mountains.

We walked back to iDEATH, holding hands. Hands are very nice things, especially after they have travelled back from making love.

Hands are very nice things, especially after they have travelled back from making love.

Her hair dreamt about being very carefully combed in the morning.

tender escargots bobbing in garlicky butter were one of my happiest discoveries!

How attracted to one another we had been; how light she felt on my lap; how exciting it always was; how, even though we weren't having full sex, all the elements of it--the lust, the tenderness, the candour, the trust--were there anyway. And how part of me hadn't minded not going the whole way...This acceptance of less than others had was also due to fear, of course: fear of pregnancy, fear of saying or doing the wrong thing, fear of an overwhelming closeness I couldn't handle.

And I knew that I loved him with more than a nod. I loved him with a rush of tenderness, a lion's share. (Is that ever enough?) I wanted to survive. I had to. I never called.

Because that's what happened to fury when tenderness was applied. It dissolved.

Their faces were inches apart now, and he traced her lips with one finger, lightly, lightly, then placed his lips there as if he'd drawn them into being.

Gentleness was sometimes perilously close to pity.

Still, there was something he'd wanted to know for some time now, and he found he couldn't deny himself this particular opportunity. Very gently, almost stealthily, he leaned forward and rested the backs of his fingers against Susannah's cheek. He regretted it instantly. For her skin was every bit as soft as he'd dreamed.

I felt Red's arm close around me like a shield against the rest of the world. His mouth was against my hair, and his heart thumped violently under my cheek. I shut my eyes, and held onto his shirt with both hands, and wept.

How could you live without human touch? Wasn't that the first thing you knew, when you came into the world and they laid you on your mother's belly? Her hand would come across and stroke your back, and cup your head, and she would smile through tears of exhaustion and wonderment. That touch of love would be the very first thing for you.

When I looked at you from a distance you would smile invitingly, but when I approached, the smile would change into mist and obstruct my view. ... It may be that someone else's tenderness can be experienced only as pain.