Quotes About Tenderness

I don't see what women see in other women, I'd told Doctor Nolan in my interview that noon. What does a woman see in a woman that she can't see in a man? Doctor Nolan paused. Then she said, Tenderness.

I don't see what women see in other women, I told Doctor Nolan in my interview that noon. What does a woman see in a woman that she can't see in a man? Doctor Nolan paused. Then she said, Tenderness. That shut me up.

A feeling of tenderness filled my heart. My heroine would be myself, only in disguise.

I don't see what women see in other women, I told Doctor Nolan in my interview that noon. What does a woman see in a woman that she can't see in a man? Doctor Nolan paused. Then she said, Tenderness. That shut me up.

What does a woman see in a woman that she can't see in a man?" Doctor Nolan paused. Then she said, "Tenderness." That shut me up.

I don't see what women see in other women," I told Doctor Nolan in my interview that noon. "What does a woman see in a woman that she can't see in a man?" Doctor Nolan paused. Then she said, "Tenderness." That shut me up. "I

Then I decided I would spend the summer writing a novel. That would fix a lot of people. […] A feeling of tenderness filled my heart. My heroine would be myself, only in disguise.

How I would like to believe in tenderness The face of the effigy, gentled by candles, Bending, on me in particular, its mild eyes.

He didn't answer but reached over and put his hand at the root of my hair and ran his fingers out slowly to the tip ends like a comb. A little electric shock flared through me and I sat quite still. Ever since I was small I loved feeling somebody comb my hair. It made me go all sleepy and peaceful.

towels I felt pure and sweet as a new baby.

How I would like to believe in tenderness.

As I stared down at Constantin the way you stare down at a bright, unattainable pebble at the bottom of a deep well, his eyelids lifted and he looked through me, and his eyes were full of love. I watched dumbly as a shutter of recognition clicked across the blur of tenderness and the wide pupils went glossy and depthless as patent leather.

I don't see what women see in other women,' I'd told Doctor Nolan in my interview that noon. 'What does a woman see in a woman that she can't see in a man?' Doctor Nolan paused. Then she said, 'Tenderness.' That shut me up.

What does a woman see in a woman that she can't see in a man?'... 'Tenderness.

What does a woman see in a woman that she can't see in a man? Doctor Nolan paused. Then she said, Tenderness.

What did my arms do before they held you?" ? Sylvia Plath

Sick nearly to senselessness, yet he derived a peculiar and intense comfort from Estemba's supporting arm, the grey-gold hair against his face, the aura of tenderness and protection.

She had set her hand on Leopardo's bowed head and allowed herself a moment with the mass of apricot hair that felt like crisp wild grass to her.

We have not long to love. Light does not stay. The tender things are those we fold away. Coarse fabrics are the ones for common wear. In silence I have watched you comb your hair. Intimate the silence, dim and warm. I could but did not, reach to touch your arm. I could, but do not, break that which is still. (Almost the faintest whisper would be shrill.) So moments pass as though they wished to stay. We have not long to love. A night. A day....

I think of my son. I remember him as a baby in my arms—the sweet smell of his soft head beneath my lips when I kissed him good night before setting him down in his crib.

Then he did a strange thing. He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed my palm." "I died. That was like the sweetest thing.

y la mano se abría otra vez para posarse en su mejilla, acariciarla y acariciarla, quemándola sin prisa.

y la Maga vio su cara contra la suya, los ojos que la miraban brillando entre las lágrimas. Se besaron al revés, ella hacia arriba y él con el pelo colgando como un fleco, se besaron mordiéndose un poco porque sus bocas no se reconocían, estaban besando bocas diferentes, buscándose con las manos en un enredo infernal de pelo colgando y el mate que se había volcado al borde de la mesa y chorreaba en la falda de la Maga.

She picks off my glasses and kisses the parts of my face that almost never get touched, the skin under the glass and frame