Quotes Tagged "kisses"

I think Heaven will be like a first kiss.

I sent a quick text to Adrian: I have a hickey! You can’t ever kiss me again. I honestly hadn’t expected him to be awake this early, so I was surprised to get a response: Okay. I won’t kiss you on your neck again. So typical of him. No! You can’t ever kiss me ANYWHERE. You said you were going to keep your distance. I’m trying, he wrote back. But you won’t keep your distance from me. I didn’t dignify that with a response.

When you kiss me, your lips upon mine, your kisses taste so sweet, just like a glass of good wine.

I loved you when you opened like a lily to the heat; you see I’m just another snowman standing in the rain and sleet who loved you with his frozen love, his second hand physique, with all he is and all he was a thousand kisses deep.

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.

Romance is a tender kiss with a lingering promise of more to come.

His kisses were so hungry and male, which isn't bad. Every kiss said he could never have enough, but he wasn't going to stop trying. They were so hormonal. I wanted his sugar roughness. Girl's kisses are deliberate and polished. When she kisses me - when I kiss her - she doesn't want me. She has me and knows it.

Give me kisses! Nay, 'tis true I am just as rich as you; And for every kiss I owe, I can pay you back, you know. Kiss me, then, Every moment, and again.

They kissed in the middle of the sidewalk, letting the crowds of people flow around them like water around an island.

Her lips are like pillows of warm glass. It is strange to find her resistant for even a second, since she has been the kisser and not the kissed. It wasn't like the last time, which felt fumbling and unnatural. That time wasn't off-putting, just like kissing one's sister. This kiss, my kiss, was tingling sweetness, electric apple blossoms.

Each in the most hidden sack kept the lost jewels of memory, intense love, secret nights and permanent kisses, the fragment of public or private happiness. A few, the wolves, collected thighs, other men loved the dawn scratching mountain ranges or ice floes, locomotives, numbers. For me happiness was to share singing, praising, cursing, crying with a thousand eyes. I ask forgiveness for my bad ways: my life had no use on earth.

I’ll always deny that I kissed her. I was just whispering into her mouth.

...the wet brush of snowflakes was like your kisses everywhere ...

Sing me a love song in a slow, southern drawl to the tune of sunny days...

The rain always reminds me of our kisses: soft, tender, and sublime!

Kisses, even to the air, are beautiful.

More than kisses, letters mingle souls.

My 10th Sonata is a sonata of insects. Insects are born from the sun... they are the sun's kisses.