Quotes About Touch

So what advice does your website offer?" "According to this, newly engaged couples touch all the time. They can't bear to be next to each other and not feel each other. Does that mean I have permission to stroke your breasts in public? Maybe this won't be so bad after all.

Her eyes are like fingers. They can touch. They can press and pinch.

his hand was warm, the fingers plump and bunchy and tight in their skin, like half-cooked sausages.

but when she saw me turn to her she reached and took my hand. She took it, not to be led by me, not to be comforted; only to hold it, because it was mine.

I reached for Jack's hand. It was cold. But then, so was mine.

Sugar and the man in the Hawaiian shirt stepped forward and pulled him up. But as they stepped away again, the backs of their hands brushed- it was just the lightest touch, for the briefest of moments, almost nothing more than hair upon hair, yet Sugar felt it like a blowtorch on creme brûlée.

It's so stupid how someone touching you - just their skin on your skin - can make you feel all sorts of things you don't want to feel.

The only things I regret, and the only things I'll ever regret are things I didn't do. In the end, that's what we mourn. The paths we didn't take. The people we didn't touch.

My body was braille for the creeping influences.

Sometimes I have a terrible feeling that I am dying not from the virus, but from being untouchable.

She couldn't remember the last time she hugged someone, really hugged someone.

It could not have been ten seconds, and yet it seemed a long time that their hands were clasped together. He had time to learn every detail of her hand.

You know what a miracle is. Not what Bakunin said. But another world's intrusion into this one. Most of the time we coexist peacefully, but when we do touch there's cataclysm.

Everytime he brushes me with his fingers, time seems to tether for a second, like it is in danger of dissolving. The whole world is dissolving, I decide, except for us. Us.

A thistle grows about here which has needles on it that would pierce through leather, I think; if one touches you, you can find relief in nothing but profanity.

Noli me tangere, noli me legere, noli me videre, noli me

You see, to me, for just a moment, despite all of the colors that touch and grapple with what I see in this world, I will often catch an eclipse when a human dies. I've seen millions of them. I've seen more eclipses than I care to remember

She even touches Jimmy's face on the photos, and I see what it is to love someone like Milla loved that man. Her fingertips are made of love.

Or had she always loved him? It's likely. Restricted as she was from speaking, she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to drag her hand across and pull her over. It didn't matter where. Her mouth, her neck, her cheek. Her skin was empty for it, waiting.

The pages and the words are my world, spread out before your eyes and for your hand to touch. Vaguely, I can see you face looking down into me, as I look back. Do you see my eyes?

How many books had she touched? How many had she felt?

Her nerves licked her palms.

Her fingertips are made of love. When she speaks, her voice is made of love.

She wanted him to drag her hand across and pull her over. It didn't matter where. Her mouth, her neck, her cheek. Her skin was empty for it, waiting.