Quotes About Tenderness

Sentimentality is the only sentiment that rubs you the wrong way.

Even in the middle of tragedy, we find moments of humor, moments of tenderness, of simple happiness.

I was filled with tenderness for all who would die, who lived without knowing why, and for the man who had appeared on the canvas. How

A medida que el equilibrio del poder, o mejor dicho, el desequilibrio del poder estaba en proceso de cambio, los hombres comenzaron a descubrir su aspecto femenino interior. Al abrir las puertas a las emociones, activaron su receptividad, su intuición, su ternura y su sensibilidad.

It's unclear who moves first. We're in each other's arms, lips locked, melded, hotly fused. Our hands drag over each other, reacquainting, remembering, almost as if we're both verifying the other one is real flesh and blood.

I touch his cheek, see my hand shake, and quickly pull it back. He grabs my wrist, places my palm back against his cheek, and closes his eyes like he's in agony. Or bliss. Or maybe both. Like he's never been touched before.

Pleasure suffused her and she snuggled deeper into his arms, her heart clenching when he tightened his hold on her. After a while his breathing slowed and his hold relaxed. Convinced he slept, she whispered, "You should have been my first." A small ache pinched her heart. His chest vibrated beneath her hand, sending a thrilling shiver up her spine as his deep voice rumbled through the air, "I'll be your last.

I feel his arm Lightly Over me. He takes one of my outstretched hands. Draws it beneath my stomach. "One more time..." This is not sex, Not friendship. Something Strange Special In the stillness of his breath, The waterlike way he moves. He is making a dance. We are making a dance.

For vanity, too, inebriates; gratitude, too, intoxicates; tenderness, too, can blissfully confuse the senses.

Het ligt niet in de menselijke aard alleen op herinneringen te teren, en zoals planten en welk schepsel dan ook voedsel uit de aarde en steeds nieuw gefilterd licht uit de hemel nodig hebben, zodat hun kleuren niet verbleken en de bloemkelken niet verwelkt hun bladeren verliezen, zo hebben ook dromen, ook dromen die schijnbaar niet van deze aarde zijn, voedsel nodig van het zinnelijke, ondersteund door tederheid en beelden, anders stolt hun bloed en de intensiteit van hun licht verbleekt.

Now they both smiled. The sweet, light fragrance of a first youthful, half-unspoken love, with all its intoxicating tenderness, had awoken in them like a dream on which you reflect ironically when you wake, although you really wish for nothing more than to dream it again, to live in the dream. The beautiful dream of young love that ventures only on half-measures, that desires and dares not ask, promises and does not give. They

Después comprendí que esa mirada que atrae, que te envuelve y te desnuda a la vez, esa mirada de seductor consumado, era tu modo de mirar a todas las mujeres que se cruzaban en tu camino, a cualquier vendedora que te atendía, a cualquier criada que te abría la puerta. No eres consciente de la fuerza de esa mirada que tu ternura hacia las mujeres hace parecer más dulce y afectuosa en su insistencia.

Il tuo calore è dolce mentre mi abbracci.

Editing fiction is like using your fingers to untangle the hair of someone you love.

He stayed right where he was, shielding Lily with his body, accepting her violent emotions, and running his hands over skin that was too precious to be marred with so many bruises.

Depend upon it, the first universal characteristic of all great art is Tenderness, as the second is Truth.

Truth is as hard as adamant and tender as a blossom.

I watched you wake up and try to wake me up too. I could still feel you touch my face and my cheek. I liked the way you brushed my hair back with your hand. I liked the way held onto my hands with your hands. They must have felt a little cold and a little wet but they started to feel warm again when you held onto them. I want you to know that I stayed there with you and held onto you too.

To rest was to receive all aspects of the world without judgment. A bath in the sea, a fuck with a soldier who never knew your name. Tenderness toward the unknown and anonymous, which was tenderness to the self.

I cry at random things, like a flower, or someone giving me a present, or my sister giving me a nice hug.

It's like the brooding hen sitting over a china egg.

Humid seal of soft affections, Tend'rest pledge of future bliss, Dearest tie of young connections, Love's first snow-drop, virgin kiss.

When he kissed me, his lips soft and careful, it was all the thrill of our first kiss and all the practiced familiarity of the accumulated memory of all our kisses.

To an old father, nothing is more sweet than a daughter. Boys are more spirited, but their ways are not so tender.