Kissing Quotes - Page 81

Statement: A girl and a boy jump into a river. The boy swims over to the girl and says, "God, it's cold." Question: What's the probability they will kiss?

Adam strokes my head, my face, he kisses my tears. We are blessed. Let them all go. The sound of a bird flying low across the garden. Then nothing. Nothing. A cloud passes. Nothing again. Light falls through the window, falls onto me, into me. Moments. All gathering towards this one.

Is this how it is for everyone?' she whispered. 'No.' 'How do you know?' 'I just do. I've never felt this with anyone before.' 'Serious?' 'Serious. That isn't a line.' 'Kiss me,' she said. He did. Everywhere.

What a woman should know -When to just let him zone out on video games, his computer, or phone. -When to let him control the day or situation. -When to just shut up and kiss him.

I've never done a kissing scene with someone even when you're friends. I mean that sort of even makes it weirder. If you don't know them or like them at all, you can kind of put some weird like ... I don't know. It's the strangest thing. Look at the person next to you and imagine making out with them now, while I film it.

Kiss me or let me go. I don’t care anymore.

Kissing Mother Superior, incompetent, hairball, poppy seeds, on the can.

no more pep talks about believing in toads," Liza said. "Don't they turn into princeses when you kiss them?" Bonnie said. "Thats frogs," Liza Said. "Entirely different species.

A kiss brings back the youth of a young child, as when a hug brings back the memories of a lover.

Anderson sent me to give you this he said. I believe the subtext was kiss and makeup. This time I was sure I made a face. "I rather kiss a copperhead." I grabbed the envelop from his hand. He laughed and held up his hands in surrender. Don't worry. It was only a figure of speech.

So all you want is a kiss?" I asked. A little voice in my head said I was heading for one of those slippery slopes. I told the little voice to shut up. "Well, maybe more than one. But basically, yeah.

Fletch then kisses me on the forehead before opening the cabinet under the coffeemaker to grab placemats and napkins. Retrieving these items is his job because I kind of don't like to bend. I also refuse to carry anything heavier than my purse.

And so, from the first, we separated our pleasure. She lay on the rug and I lay at right angles to her so that only our lips might meet. Kissing in this way is the strangest of distractions. The greedy body that clamors for satisfaction is forced to content itself with a single sensation and, just as the blind hear more acutely and the deaf can feel the grass grow, so the mouth becomes the focus of love and all things pass through it and are re-defined. It is a sweet and precise torture.

To kiss well one must kiss solely. No groping hands or stammering hearts. The lips and the lips alone are the pleasure. Passion is sweeter split strand by strand. Divided and re-divided like mercury then gathered up only at the last moment.

Hannah wasn't my first kiss, but the first kiss that mattered: the first kiss with someone who mattered. (pg 222).

I simply wanted a kiss. I was a freshman girl who had never been kissed. Never. But I liked the boy, he liked me, and I was going to kiss him. That's the story, the whole story, right there.

Ranger cradled my face in his hands, using his thumbs to wipe the tears from my eyes. "The ceremony is over. Can you make it back to the car?" I nodded. "I'm okay now. Am I red and blotchy from crying?" "Yes," Ranger said, brushing a kiss across my forehead. "I love you anyway." "There's all kinds of love," I said. Ranger took me by the hand and led me back to the SUV. "This is the kind that doesn't call for a ring. But a condom might come in handy." "That's not love," I told him. "That's lust.

Kiss those cuffs good-bye." Lula from "Hard Eight" By Janet Evonavich

Morelli grabbed the front of my shirt, pulled me to him, and kissed me. It was a great kiss, but I didn't know what the heck it meant. It seemed to me a breaking up kiss would have had less tongue.

I'd kiss you, but you smell like a gym bag.

He smiles and takes his index finger and presses it to my lips, leaves it there until my heart lands on Jupiter: three seconds, then removes it, and heads back into the living room. Whoa - well, that was either the dorkiest or sexiest moment of my life, and I'm voting for sexy on account of my standing here dumbstruck and giddy, wondering if he did kiss me after all.

He doesn't have to say it, i feel it too; it's not subtle - like every bell for miles and miles is ringing at once, loud and clanging, hungry ones and tiny, happy, chiming ones, all of them sounding off in this moment. I put my hands around his neck, pull him to me, and then he's kissing me hard and so deep, and i am flying, sailing, soaring.

This is it--what all the hoopla is about, what Wuthering Heights is about--it all boils down to this feeling rushing through me in this moment with Joe as our mouths refuse to part. Who knew all this time I was one kiss away from being Cathy and Juliet and Elizabeth Bennet and Lady Chatterley!?

The next kiss deepened, became more urgent, needy. There was no space between them, and she could feel he enjoyed their closeness. Riley heard him moan and they reluctantly broke apart.

That was a kiss for the record books.