Best 474 quotes in «lips quotes» category

Prose Poems from my book SPAN OBSERVATION So, we may not be able to explain the world. Not exactly. But we can accept it, and love it. We can turn our faces to the light and examine the minutest details simply for the sake of it. We can live lives of joy and purpose. We are all part of one whole. Take comfort in this. Almost every one of us is capable of holding a cup to another’s lips without our hands shaking.

Put on your lips success creeds every day. Never see yourself as an unworthy being, incapable of receiving good gifts from God.

red the colour of the rose red the colour of your lips red the colour of your tongue.... red the colour of your heart...... red the colour of your passion.....

Scatter as a prayer escaping my lips... as orchids blooming in clouds.

Sealing your lips makes your eyes talk Truth creeps beneath your lame feet’s walk Knees stiffen when blood vessels stalk A pounding heart’s lies hard as rock

Shaking my head, I grudgingly smiled. “Will the pizza be here soon?” “Yes,” he murmured, suddenly next to me. “You smell good.” Before I could speak, his lips were on mine for a brief touch. I froze for the seconds our lips met and remained a little frozen when he pulled away. As he leaned back, his lips curved into a gentle grin. “Those lips of yours are fucking gorgeous.” Covering my mouth, I sighed. All of my life, I heard about my fat lips. As a kid, people would tease me about how my lips were big enough to eat my whole head. My grandma especially liked that one. When I got older, the comments were always sexual. I hated when people talked about my lips. “You don’t like them,” he said as his fingers drifted along my calf. “Why?” “I like them fine.” “Do guys want to do something with those lips?” Resting my head back on the couch, I sighed. “I’m tired and you’re making me feel dirty.” Cooper’s hand stopped caressing my leg. When I looked at him, he stared back with an edgy expression. “You take things too personally,” he said, holding my gaze. “When guys talk about using my mouth for stuff as if it’s all I’m good for, why wouldn’t I take that personally?” “Not all you’re good for, but you have sexy lips. Like when I threw the bottle, you did this thing with your lips and made a perfect little ‘O’ shape. It was frigging hot and I almost forgot I wanted to beat the shit out of those guys.

She is psychic a little voodoo magic soulful with cranberry lips eyes full of fantastic.

She beckoned for him to come closer and he did. He crawled onto the bed from the bottom and worked his way up to her legs. His hands caressed the smoothness of her recently shaven legs. She moaned at his touch. He hovered over her and she pulled him closer. Their lips met, once more, and, somehow, it was even better than before.

She pursued his lips,' Zach laughs. 'Another one I misread! Pursued for "pursed." You know. She pursed her lips. So whenever you do that now, reach out and touch my lips to shut me up? I think, she pursued his lips.' 'That's so silly,' smiles Rachel. 'I know that. Now I'm pursuing your lips,' he adds. When Zach kisses her, Rachel is often aware of the pulse in his lower labial, a small heartbeat there. She is aware of a pulsing and a slight thickening of tissue. How many times has this boy bled from his mouth? How many times.

Shirts and jeans litter the asphalt, the empty fabric limbs askew as if they're attempting to escape. Blood smears Sarah's lips as she struggles against the chest of a dirty looking man with a beard. Terror. Terror is the only word my mind can seize on and it forgets what it means. I forget how to think - to move.

Someday my lips and eyes would concur when I tell you, I don't need you anymore.

Smile, It's the second best thing that you can do with your mouth!

The dreams you have that may meet mockeries from the lips of negative people will yield the success that will squeeze tears from their eyes later! Dare to resist every negative criticism and persist to make it happen!

So there’s this annual dance in a couple of weeks.” “The Winter Ball,” I interrupt. “There have been signs up everywhere.” “You want to go?” I think about it for a half second. “Will you dress up?” He nods. I move forward so my hands are flat on the towel and my face is much closer to his face. Something inside my chest warms up like a nice kind of heartburn and I say, “And will we slow dance?” He nods again. His bottom lip turns in toward his mouth for a second, just disappears and then comes back. Stretching out my spine so my lips are nearly touching his I say, “And will you press yourself against me and we’ll move really close together and then your hand will stretch out across the back of my head and your fingers will wrap into my hair and then . . .” He doesn’t nod. He just tilts his head down, moves his fingers into my hair, and his lips touch mine in a forever kiss. His lips are soft and hard all at once. His breath mixes with my breath. Everything inside of me whooshes out.

That is a terrifically intimate thing, you know? Letting a stranger light your cigarette. Leaning forward so he can hold a flame to your lips. Pausing to breathe in before you pull back again.

Sometimes when I capture a moment I find the words to write when my lips fail to move.

The eye’s perception of texture is pale compared to the lips’, and I didn’t know what velvety was until I knew it with my lips. Oh, kissing. Oh, violin boy.

The Mauna Kea night shift was an 18 hour night in wintertime at the 13,796 feet summit (before sunset to after sunrise) with insufficient time for adequate sleep before the next night shift. Night shift was between 5 and 8 nights long and we slept at 9,200 feet. We sat at a desk staring at four large computer monitors and a large cathode ray tube television. I would also use my Wi-Fi laptop computer. I would have extreme fatigue by the end of every night shift and have chapped lips which I now associate with exposure to the artificial light from the computer screens. A good day of sleep between shifts was rare and starting the next shift fatigued was normal.

Their faces were inches apart now, and he traced her lips with one finger, lightly, lightly, then placed his lips there as if he’d drawn them into being.

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...

The smile upon my lips, 
 It will surely never die 
 As I'm waiting here for you 
 until you're by my side.

The sound of the words as they're said is always different from the sound they make when they're heard, because the speaker hears some of the sound from the inside

there have been mornings so quiet and tender like a poem, on Thursday's lips that I wondered if I'd been kissed at all...

There is a moon, that rests in the quiet corners of a lover’s lips.

Throughout the slow burning of the day, the silver-skinned boy kissed the air with the ghost of moon-soaked lips, images circling his head and under his jaw, and paint spilled onto paper. He said he was not an artist, but the boy he remembered told him once that the language of art is such a sacred dream. And he believed him.

Time seemed to stop; the world around them stilled. There was only her. His thumb caressed at her lips, the lips he wanted to kiss. Katianna rolled her face in his palm—a caressing nuzzle and he stilled, his breath froze in his chest. A response. A submissive one at that. His heart, stilled fractured by that single nuance, but his loins burst with a wave of warmth. A response—it had been a response. Oh fuck he had to kiss her. His whole body was screaming for her now.

You have had me spinning for days, for I am drunk off the words that flow endlessly from your deep red lips that taste of wine.

To become a better you, secure your dreams from the jaws of people who discredit your ambitions.

Wet are the lips for the fire extinguish. (Humides sont les lèvres Pour le feu éteindre)

when whispered what an exquisite song, it makes- your name.

When your skin touched my skin And your lips touched my lips The whole Universe paused! And when your Soul Collided with my Soul That's when newer Stars And Galaxies were formed!

With kisses your mouth taught me my lips came to know fire.

When distrust is so profound that it makes you wary of every word dripping from honeyed lips... It sharpens your instincts...Now for a woman, THAT is a powerful weapon...

You can always tell what the pussy will be like, when you kiss the lips.

You need me to inspire you and remind you how wonderful you are. You need me to kiss you." He lowered his head and pressed his lips on her neck. "You need me to love you." "But more than that," he continued, "I need you. I need you to come home to. I need you to talk to and laugh with. I need you to love me back.

You may think that real love is when ( I love you ) passes out from your lover's lips, but I think that real love is when you read ( I love you ) in your lover's eyes, without speaking!

Your lips are on my lips, spirit to spirit, in a crystal darkness.

Your heart the weight, Your two lips are its arms.

Your lips were made for mine, Beck. You are the reason I have a mouth, a heart.

A family is like medicine." She twisted her lips into a sardonic smile. "Best in small doses.

You taste like Strawberry stars On my lips.

A dreamer of the common dreams, A fisher in familiar streams, He chased the transitory gleams That all pursue; But on his lips the eternal themes Again were new.

Always, always powder your T-zone and the lines going from your nose down around your mouth so you don't look like a bulldog. When those areas are shiny, it's awful. And gloss will keep your lips from appearing dehydrated.

All great song, from the first day when human lips contrived syllables, has been sincere song.

All questions rely on the present for their solution. Time measures nothing but itself. The word that is written may be postponed,but not that on the lip. If this is what the occasion says, let the occasion say it.

A girl told me my lips looked like somebody had pressed strawberry yogurt against my face.

And to all others in this story profound shooms of lip music brrrrrr. And they can kiss my sharries.

"And I love you too." His fingers skate the edge of my jaw, dance briefly over my lips. "You should know that. You have to know that.

And though hard be the task, keep a stiff upper lip.

And when you were a silent word upon Life's quivering lips, I too was there, another silent word. Then life uttered us and we came down the years throbbing with memories of yesterday and with longing for tomorrow, for yesterday was death conquered and tomorrow was birth pursued.