Quotes About Touch

It hadn't occurred in the physical realm, that much was true. His hand had not touched her hand. But... his mind had touched her mind, and that seemed to him a deeper reality and even greater intimacy.

Son criaturas aferrándose a la vida con las manos manchadas. Hay tanto que los separa…, todos los vivos y todos los muertos, pero de momento dejan que todo lo demás se desvanezca y que la mecha arda más brillante y más cerca, de modo que Karou y Akiva casi sienten que se tocan.

Si alguien se enamoraba alguna vez de él, pensó con amargura, tal vez fuera agradable poder tocarla sin derramar sangre

A tale is a funny thing, and even when it's your own and you have a quill in your hand you must be careful where you touch it.

She leaned forward and caught at his hand, pressing it between her own. The touch was like white fire through his veins. He could not feel her skin only the cloth of her gloves, and yet it did not matter. You kindled me, heap of ashes that I am, into fire. He had wondered once why love was always phrased in terms of burning. The conflagration in his own veins, now, gave the answer.

I think she just asked if she could touch my mango.

Gideon touched her cheek, lightly, with the tips of his fingers. "Did you know your name means 'wisdom'? It was very well-given.

He was still stroking the inside of her wrist, his touch doing odd delicious things to her skin and nerves.

Ty reached out and brushed Kit's hair away from his face, an absent sort of gesture that sent a shot of something through Kit, a feeling like he'd touched a live electrical fence.

Hunter, why did you tie me to stakes again tonight? How long do you plan to do that?" "Until my touch is carved in your heart.

His gentleness and concern touched her. "It isn't that bad, truly. If you want to--" Heat flooded her cheeks as the impropriety of what she had nearly said struck her. His mouth quirked in a knowing grin. "This Comanche has much want, but I will wait.

They came out. They were children. They wore rags and their skin was livid with sores. Their veins were tubes, their hair wire. Sapphique reached out and touched them. 'You are the ones who will save us,' he said.

It flitted through her mind without actual words that skin is an odd thing for the world to make a fuss about, especially when, with your eyes closed, it all feels more or less the same.

Randoll burst through the blanket-door when he heard his lusty son, and his big miner's hand fluttered like a moth from the damp head of the babe to his wife's flushed cheek and back again, as if he didn't know which of them he most wanted to touch.

O if we but knew what to do When we delve or hew— Hack and rack the growing green! Since country is so tender To touch, her being só slender,

The flesh had infinity in it. I must know every inch by touch yet every inch renewed its mystery the instant my hand moved on. Delightful endless futility.

but it was humanly good to be touched too, to be alone with someone at the secret feast that went all the way back to Adam and Eve. You looked at each other and felt just how old the contract was, the warm-faced commitment to the adventure, the stepping together out of the light into the rewarding darkness.

The key is to make sure that even if you're not doing "it," you're still doing something – touching, kissing, hugging. Personally, my heart gets warm and mushy when my husband rubs my feet after a long, tiring day. He may not be anywhere near my g-spot, but that little bit of touch and attention keeps us connected even when we're not having spine-tingling sex. (on 8 things no one tells you about marriage)

SOUND vibrations of your words affect the space around them. You literary TOUCH others with what you say.

The sun heals. Laughter heals. Love, breathing, touch, beauty, Nature, warmth, kinship Heal, if you will let them Be part of your medicine.

Oh, I love hugging. I wish I was an octopus, so I could hug ten people at a time.

Io e te. Le nostre mani s'incontrano e prende forma un mondo.

You think...that my life is shameful because my encounters are. And they are. But you should ask yourself why they are. Why are they—shameful? Because there is no affection in them, and no joy. It's like putting an electric plug in a dead socket. Touch, but no contact. All touch, but no contact and no light.

dreamed of the touch of hands, of Giovanni's hands, or anybody's hands, hands which would have the power to crush me and make me whole again.