Best 40 of Soft quotes - MyQuotes
Beauty should be the goal of your communication. Learn to speak with godly wisdom.
Both men and women experience pressure to conform to social standards of attractiveness. Men to look strong and be tough, women to look pretty and soft. Men to be masculine, women to be feminine. Men get judged for being "too feminine", women get criticized for being "too masculine". Gender policing affects us all.
He tangles his hand in my hair, and the other cups my jaw. Although I have this all planned, his lips feel shockingly sweet, swollen and soft, and more like home every time
The problem with a lot of people is that what they think is a virtue is actually a vice in disguise. It's much easier to convince yourself that you're reasonable and civilised, than soft and weak, isn't it?
from that terrible love the soft pure hands gave peace to my eyes and sun to my senses.
Isabel felt soft and yielding; her blouse felt soft. Everything about her seemed soft, and she smelled of dried flowers, rosemary, fresh baked bread. This whole kitchen seemed alive with a peculiar energy; in the old fixtures and furniture, Tess sensed a place where cooking and eating had happened for decades, where people gathered to sample life's sweetest pleasures.
I'm not... I'm not without a heart,' he heard Sophia say, her chin raised, eyes straight ahead. 'I'm not. I just don't have the luxury of being soft. I am trying to survive.
Getting started is the most difficult thing to do; once you file it out, they rest of the journey is as soft as the straw. Be a good beginner.
I had a dream about you. I opened your chest like a cabinet, it had doors, and when I opened the doors, I saw all kinds of soft things inside you--teddy bears, tiny fuzzy animals, all these soft, cuddly things.
Mehmet Murat Ildan
For a child, no hand is stronger and softer than the hand which touches her lovingly!
all the words all the poems know my warm, soft spots.
True love is like a bird of many colours, at times, soft and comforting, at others, wild and intense. Yet, it is a fire we all desire. Don’t be afraid of its intense force. It is a spark that consumes the heart, but it quenches the thirst of the seeking soul.
He couldn't believe that she had turned him away. Surely she couldn't honestly believe that they were incompatible. She might have been a virgin, but even she must have sensed that their interaction last night- and all the others, for that matter- was far from typical. Certainly their marriage would not suffer in the bedchamber. And, if the passion between them weren't enough, there was also their well-matched intelligence, humor, and maturity. Aside from all that, she was quite lovely. Soft in all the right places. Ralston let his thoughts linger... a man could spend years lost in her lush curves.
The most important thing in life is to learn how to give out love, and to let it come in. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Let it come in. We think we don't deserve love, we think if we let it in we'll become too soft. But a wise man named Levine said it right. He said, 'Love is the only rational act.
Extend your commitment to your family members. Have respect for elders and be nice to them.they are your soft pillow
Sometimes life is hard ... so we have to squeeze it, touch it, play with it, and make it soft like a dough! Now it's soft enough to be shaped in any way we want! Keep moving, touching life, as this will keep it smooth and fun!
Most women do not have a relationship with God, as they are either unwilling to have one or unaware of how to have one, so they choose a human partner.” “It’s not about gender or age, nor even social conditioning, religious belief or other external preferences. To surrender as Love—in a feminine way—is to become vulnerable, fragile, soft, sincere, open hearted, and “wound-able” as a choice to the alternative of living miserably inside walls and masks, hiding from pain and Joy.
The sky blue strengthens slowly, the dawn light rosy and pale the summer song of our romance begin to unveil...with every heart beat and the waves' breath...the time stood in harmony still. Your morning kiss my hands could feel...by your lips soft, so warm, so very gentle, nice and full of life...
His whisper was the softest sound I ever knew, which seemed to bring the loudest heartbeat.
Ana Claudia Antunes
Silent our body is a sacred temple, A place to connect with other people. Can't we just stay any younger? Really, we might keep it stronger, Elated, rather than so tilted or feeble!!
The first music I ever heard was only one hundred and sixty days after I was conceived. Da dum Da dum Da dum Have you ever heard the sound a blessing makes? This is it. The first thing I ever saw was only one hundred and eighty days after I was conceived. It was a bright light soft like clouds warm like candles. Have you ever seen the colour of a blessing? This is it. The first time I ever suffered was in the three thousand and sixty seconds after I was born. I listened for her heartbeat. I searched for her light. I cried for the first time until she was born. Have you ever known a blessing? A twin is it.
I knew such a woman once, She gave me everything. Her love like a soft riot singing, She knew how to shine.
...early on Monday evening, when the sky was the color of a velvet ribbon falling over the hills.
Be like water, which is fluid & soft & yielding, as in time, water will overcome rock which is rigid & hard. Therefor, what is soft is strong.
I have a message for your daughter,” said Cale. “I am bound to her with cables that not even God can break. One day, if there is a soft breeze on her cheek, it may be my breath; one night, if the cool wind plays with her hair, it may be my shadow passing by.” And with this terrible threat he faced forward and the procession started once more. In less than a minute they were gone. In her shady room Arbell Swan-Neck stood white and cold as alabaster.
... If the dead can come back to this earth and move unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the garish day and in the darkest night—amidst your happiest scenes and gloomiest hours—always, always; and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath; or if the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by.
Even a soft flicker of dream keeps us alive. We live to dream. We dream to live.
Livia placed a ball of wet newspaper on the table, and proceeded to unwrap it. "What's that?" he asked. "Mozzarella cheese, of course. It's like the burrata you had before, but different." "It's soft," he said, pushing his fork into the piece she passed him. "You've never eaten mozzarella?" she said incredulously. "In England, we only have three cheeses," he explained. "Cheddar, Stilton and Wensleydale." "Now you're making fun of me," she sniffed. "Not at all." He put some of the milky white cheese into his mouth. "Oh," he said. "That's rather good, isn't it?" It was so soft it melted in his mouth, but the taste was explosive- creamy, and cuddy, and faintly tart all at once.
If freedom rings, then bondage bombs.
The rain always reminds me of our kisses: soft, tender, and sublime!
On the inside, the copycats of the ruffians are more delicate than the copycats of prudes.
You are the ocean to my eyes.
Karen Marie Moning
My trews may be soft, lass, he thoughts, but what's in them isn't.
Gregori,” Mikhail reminded him softly, “if the child is your lifemate, and you do something careless, you are condemning her to death. Keep that in mind when you enter this place of madness.” Gregori’s silver eyes slashed at his old friend. “Do you think I would chance harming her in any way? I have waited several lifetimes for her. These humans are nothing. They have persecuted our people for far too long. I mean it to stop.” Mikhail nodded, his dark eyes, so like his brother’s, black ice. “You are up to this, Jacques?” Jacques’ smile was a humorless promise of retaliation. “Have no worries about me. I am looking forward to this.” Mikhail sighed. “Two bloodthirsty savages thinking they are in the dark ages.” Jacques exchanged a humorless grin with Gregori. “The dark ages were not such a bad time. At least justice could be dispensed easily without worrying about what the women would think.” “You both have gone soft,” Gregori snickered. “No wonder our people have such problems. The women are ruling, and you two besotted idiots just follow along.” Jacques’ solid form wavered, became transparent. “We will see who proves to be the soft one, healer.” His body completely disappeared from sight. Mikhail glanced at Gregori, shrugged, then followed suit. None of this was to his liking. Gregori was a time bomb waiting to explode. And only God knew what Jacques was capable of.
With callused hands i tasted the softness of the moon in the coldest winds i discovered my soul's warmest fireplace in the roughness of his stubble the tenderest love.
War can condition a person to be resilient, tolerant, dependable, strong, and capable of so much more than one who had experienced nothing of it; it can bring out the very best in us, but also the very worst. Where is it, I ask, the proper conduit through which a soldier should be raised from whence they would become an upstanding citizen of the world, instead of a single country?
-ingen Penge mere og kan ikke arbejde, blaut, Far, udsuget, Fan danse mig.
You are in danger of living a life so comfortable and soft, that you will die without ever realizing your true potential.
It was wonderful to see the sparkle back in her eyes. He wanted to keep it there. For the first time in years he’d found himself actually caring about how someone else felt. He’d been spending so much time being a tough successful businessman that he’d almost forgotten how pleasurable it was to help make other people happy.
I settled on the floor and whispered to Sam, “I want you to listen to me, if you can.” I leaned the side of my face against his ruff and remembered the golden wood he had shown me so long ago. I remembered the way the yellow leaves, the color of Sam’s eyes, fluttered and twisted, crashing butterflies, on their way to the ground. The slender white trunks of the birches, creamy and smooth as human skin. I remembered Sam standing in the middle of the wood, his arms stretched out, a dark, solid form in the dream of the trees. His coming to me, me punching his chest, the soft kiss. I remembered every kiss we’d ever had, and I remembered every time I’d curled in his human arms. I remembered the soft warmth of his breath on the back of my neck while we slept. I remembered Sam.