Best 875 quotes in «kiss quotes» category

Echo of the waves appears in the sky, their lights reflected in your eyes. I'm back in our world and happy again. The sound of your voice, compassionate embrace... The power in your touch, serenity of stride... The beating of your heart calms down my presence, gracing with eternal peace of mind... Bathing in the sunshine of your arms I'm deeply aware of the melodic stream that has no language...gliding beneath the quiet Heaven of your eyes...

Electricity crackles from her lips to mine and I'm stunned it's not visible.

Employment is an employee’s kissing of an employer’s ass. A salary is the employer’s pretense to be cleaning his ass.

Enraged is the wrong word, but I felt like I wanted to kick you in the shins and then make you banana bread. I wanted to key your car and take you out for dim sum. It was admiration, passion and that voice of yours all mushing together and disarming me, making me want smash something and kiss someone.

Even without a kiss, this moment is perfect, and you wouldn't trade it for anything.

Everybody winds up kissing the wrong person goodnight.

Every motion she made was slow, as if she’d never before put her arms around a man, and didn’t know for certain where everything fit. When at last they were pressed close, she didn’t think she’d know how to let go when the time came. They summarized the course of passion with kisses: a chaste, half-frightened brush of the lips metamorphosed into something fierce and fast-burning, which in its turn became a more patient, more intimate touch, full of inquiry and shared pleasure.

Every Princess has one Prince to share the loves and joys of life, and do you know how that Princess knows which Prince is hers?” “How Mommy?” “From the kiss.” “But how?” “The very first kiss with your Prince will change your life. When your lips touch for the first time, the earth will feel like it stops moving, but in the same moment, the world around you spins. It’ll feel like fireworks in the night sky. Like a bright light in the darkness. You’ll feel your heart beat fast in your ears but silence will surround you. And when you pull apart and open your eyes and look at each other, and really see each other. You’ll know it in that moment, through that kiss, that you’ve just let someone own a piece of your heart, and you’ll live happily ever after.

Every time his lips meet mine, my whole body begins a slow tingle that starts from within in my chest, and spreads like a wildfire.

Everything ritualistic must be strictly avoided, because it immediately turns rotten. Of course a kiss is a ritual too and it isn't rotten, but ritual is permissible only to the extent that it is as genuine as a kiss.

Every time his lips meet mine, my whole body begins a slow tingle that starts from within my chest, and spreads like a wildfire.

Farragut's first visitor was his wife. He was raking leaves in yard Y when the PA said that 734-508-32 had a visitor. He jogged up the road past the firehouse and into the tunnel. It was four flights up to cellblock F. "Visitor," he said to Walton, who let him into his cell. He kept his white shirt prepared for visits. It was dusty. He washed his face and combed his hair with water. "Don't take nuttin but a handkerchief," said the guard. "I know, I know, I know...." Down he went to the door of the visitor's room, where he was frisked. Through the glass he saw that his visitor was Marcia. There were no bars in the visitor's room, but the glass windows were chicken-wired and open only at the top. A skinny cat couldn't get in or out, but the sounds of the prison moved in freely on the breeze. She would, he knew, have passed three sets of bars - clang, clang, clang - and waited in an anteroom where there were pews or benches, soft-drink engines and a display of the convict's art with prices stuck in the frames. None of the cons could paint, but you could always count on some wet-brain to buy a vase of roses or a marine sunset if he had been told that the artist was a lifer. There were no pictures on the walls of the visitor's room but there were four signs that said: NO SMOKING, NO WRITING, NO EXCHANGE OF OBJECTS, VISITORS ARE ALLOWED ONE KISS.

For a short burst of time, we completely belong to each other, absorbed by the needs of our physicality, glued together by the passion of our lips.

Finally, I laugh. Genuine and normal sounding. And then my date says the best thing that he could possibly say: “It’s okay. I haven’t been on one of these [dates] in a while either.” My smile triples in size. Josh grins. “Just give me your hand.” “W–what?” “Your hand,” he repeats. “Give it to me.” I extend my shaking right hand. And – in a moment that is a hundred dreams come true – Joshua Wasserstein laces his fingers through mine. A staggering shock of energy shoots straight into my veins. Straight into my heart. “There,” he says. “I’ve been waiting a long time to do that.

For all his clever ideas, Maven has nothing to say to this. He just stares, his breath coming in tiny, scared puffs. I know the look on his face; I wear it every time I’m forced to say good-bye to someone. “It’s too bad we didn’t stay longer,” I murmur, looking out at the river. “I would have liked to die close to home.” Another breeze sends a curtain of my hair across my face but Maven brushes it away and pulls me close with startling ferocity. Oh. His kiss is not at all like his brother’s. Maven is more desperate, surprising himself as much as me. He knows I’m sinking fast, a stone dropping through the river. And he wants to drown with me. “I will fix this,” he murmurs against my lips. I have never seen his eyes so bright and sharp. “I won’t let them hurt you. You have my word.

First kisses were about discovery, transformation, wonder.

For his part, Jazz knew he was handsome. It had nothing to do with looking in the mirror, which he rarely did. It had everything to do with the way the girls at school looked at him, the way they became satellites when he walked by, their orbits contorted by his own mysterious gravity. If attention could be measured like the Doppler effect, girls would show a massive blue shift in his presence. In the last year or so, he had even remarked the scrutiny of older women—teachers, cashiers at stores, the woman who delivered UPS packages to his house. What had once been a maternal flavor in their glances had taken on a lingering, cool sort of appraisal. He could almost hear them thinking, Not yet. But soon. Despite his upbringing, despite the infamy of his father, they still watched him. Or maybe because of it. Maybe Howie was right about bad boys.

Francisco l'attrasse a sé e le cercò le labbra. Fu un bacio casto, tiepido, lieve tuttavia ebbe l'effetto di una scossa tellurica nei loro sensi. Entrambi percepirono la pelle dell'altro prima mai così precisa e vicina, la pressione delle loro mani, l'intimità di un contatto anelato fin dagli inizi del tempo. Li invase un calore palpitante nelle ossa nelle vene nell'anima, qualcosa che non conoscevano o che avevano del tutto scordato, perché la memoria della carne è fragile. Tutto scomparve intorno ed ebbero coscienza solo delle labbra unite che prendevano e ricevevano.

For the next couple of weeks she held Peter like a secret in her heart, lying right under her necklace. I could see him written on her face, and Tik Tok, too, seemed to catch shadows of him, because he'd stop to stare at her, puzzled, as if he'd just seen the boy flit across her eyes-seen the ghost of the kiss lingering for a second on the skin of her neck before disappearing.

For now, I'll let you please temporary amnesia," he said and lifted my chin to him. "But I'm never going to forget what it felt like when you were biting my lip instead of your own." -Trey to Monica, The Only Exception

Frames 221 to 223: The motorcade is now in front of the camera lens, moving ever so slowly. The President and First Lady are waving to the crowd. The President almost stands up to send kisses to a few ladies in the front rows, but the First Lady holds him by the arm. The President sits back comfortably in his Lincoln. He is enjoying himself terribly.

French. Feel. Finger. Fuck.

Gabe's face flashed into my mind, and I knew that Asher and Gabe had both been right about my feelings. Gabe would do anything to save me, even put his life at risk for mine. He would do all that for a girl who'd never kissed him, or been brave enough to take a chance on him. Suddenly, I regretted that immensely.

Fuck! The things she does to me with a simple kiss.

Gmorning and a kiss on every letter in your blessed name Gnight and a kiss on every letter in your blessed name

Give me back my lips. I meant to give you a kiss but a kiss turned to a thousand, and a thousand to thousands, and now my lips have left with you. Give me back my hands. They only intended to caress you but they held tight and have forgotten even the very arms they belong to. Give me back my mind. Mind wasn’t even supposed to think of you but you forced yourself into dreams, and those dreams dreamed of your reality and now mind is mindless — less mine more yours. Give me back to myself. I miss my reflection and who I was before I met you. Before I eagerly and lovingly, stupidly and foolishly gave all of myself to you.

God, Arthur.” He kisses me. “Te quiero. Estoy enamorado. You don’t even know.” And I don’t speak a word of Spanish, but when I look at his face, I get it.

Georgie,' he said. Then he kissed her. That was it, really. That was when she added Neal to the list of things she wanted and needed and was bound to have someday. That's when she decided that Neal was the person who was going to drive on those overnight trips. And Neal was the one who is going to sit next to her at the Emmys. He kissed her like he was drawing a perfectly straight line. He kissed her in India ink. That's when Georgie decided, during that cocksure kiss, that Neal was what she needed to be happy.

Happy birthday, Alexander," Magnus murmured. "Thanks for remembering," Alec whispered back.

God, this kiss. It was the kind she'd remember forever, that would invade her dreams and haunt her in quiet moments. The kind her older self could look back on and know, once, she'd really lived. The kind that, no matter what, she could never, ever regret.

>>How old were you when you had your first kiss? >>Twenty. It's pathetic. Guys don't want to kiss fat girls. >>Not true. There are all those guys on jerry springer, and there's president Clinton... >>Make that: no one I ever wanted to kiss wanted to kiss a fat girl. >>I'll bet you never gave anyone a chance. Mitch says you practically beat him away with a stick. >>I was trying to spare him.

Happy birthday,” he whispered, his breath landing warm and suddenly close to my lips, making my insides flip. And just as quickly as he’d surprised me with the cake, he kissed me, one frosting-covered hand moving from my hair to the back of my neck, the other solid and warm in the small of my back, pressing us together, my chest against his ribs, my hip bones just below his, the tops of our bare summer legs hot and touching. I stopped breathing. My eyes were closed and his mouth tasted like marzipan flowers and clove cigarettes, and in ten seconds the whole of my life was wrapped up in that one kiss, that one wish, that one secret that would forever divide my life into two parts. Up, down. Happy, sad. Shock, awe. Before, after. In that single moment, Matt, formerly known as friend, became something else entirely. I kissed him back. I forgot time. I forgot my feet. I forgot the people outside, waiting for us to rejoin the party. I forgot what happens when friends cross into this space. And if my lungs didn’t fill and my heart didn’t beat and my blood didn’t pump without my intervention, I would have forgotten about them, too. I could have stayed like that all night, standing in front of the sink, Matt’s black apple hair brushing my cheeks, heart thumping, lucky and forgetful…

Have you ever heard of such a thing as a phone?" I snapped. "You could have called so we knew you weren't dead." My anger bounced off him. "I see my diabolical plan has worked," he observed. "What plan?" I asked with narrow eyes. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Tone down the outpouring affection, Remington, or I might get the wrong idea and kiss you.

God, you're so sweet.” He holds my face in his hands and kisses me deeply. I slowly unzip his hoodie and touch a hand to his bare chest. I relish in the feel of it. Barely an hour ago I was admiring it from afar, and now it's no longer just a tease. When I slide my hand down to his stomach, he groans and his hands slip just under my shirt. “So that's why you didn't want to change.” I can feel his smile against my lips. “You just wanted me to take your clothes off for you.” “Guilty.” I lift my arms for him to pull it off. Instead of returning to kissing me, his eyes roam down my body. I fight the urge to cover myself; even though my bra is still on, I feel exposed. His hands lightly touch each side along the seam. My breath catches in my throat. Meeting my eyes, he says, “You're so damn beautiful.” He leans forward, pressing a soft kiss in between my breasts. I shiver at the light touch of his lips to my sensitive skin. If this is how he makes me feel with such little contact, then how will the rest of this feel? The need is building inside like a spark starting a fire.

Grabbing her close to him, he spun her around and pushed her against the wall. They needed something solid to keep them steady, because he didn’t see himself giving up those lips any time soon. He would kiss her until she lost her breath and it was only his lips on hers that kept her upright. Only the kiss that kept her breathing.

Green trees against the sky in the spring rain while the sky set off the spring trees in the obscuration. Red flowers dot the land in the breeze's chase while the land colored up in red after the kiss.

Guys who kiss girls on the forehead are the sweetest and the best gentlemen you can ever have.

Have you kissed many boys before?" he asked quietly. His question brought my mind back into focus. I raised an eyebrow. "Boys? That's an assumption." Noah laughed, the sound low and husky. "Girls, then?" "No." "Not many girls? Or not many boys?" "Neither," I said. Let him make of that what he would. "How many?" "Why—" "I am taking away that word. You are no longer allowed to use it. How many?" My cheeks flushed, but my voice was steady as I answered. "One." At this, Noah leaned in impossibly closer, the slender muscles in his forearm flexing as he bent his elbow to bring himself nearer to me, almost touching. I was heady with the proximity of him and grew legitimately concerned that my heart might explode. Maybe Noah wasn't asking. Maybe I didn't mind. I closed my eyes and felt Noah's five o' clock graze my jaw, and the faintest whisper of his lips at my ear. "He was doing it wrong.

Heaven begins with God's smile and ends with God's kiss.

He could not remember when anything had felt so young and fresh as her lips. The rain lay, like tears shed for him, upon the softly shining porcelain cheeks. She was all new and immaculate, and her eyes were wild.

He crushes his lips to mine. My face is already wet from tears, but the kiss isn’t sweet and romantic. At that moment, it feels like a kiss of life or death. It is carnal and harsh. I will never forget this kiss.

He drew her very tenderly close and their lips met like starved hearts.

He dropped his head and kissed her. He kisses her and it was a kiss of utter certainty, the kind of kiss during which monarchs die and whole continents fall without your even noticing.

He'd thought a lot about that kiss. A whole lot about that kiss. He wished he felt more sorry about it than he did, as it could likely prove to be his downfall in his mission. But he couldn't. It had been to... perfect. Like a souffle that combined airiness and light, with that rich, dark, kicky finish. Yes, that kiss had lingered on his lips... and permanently in his memory, ranking up there along with the richest, most decadent desserts he'd ever had the pleasure of sampling. Just like those decadent desserts, he was equally driven to taste her again. As passionate as he'd ever been to create the most amazing flavor combinations, the richest and most unique desserts, Lani was like that to him. For as long as he could remember, that passion had always been everything.

He didn’t fold his arms around her, and he didn’t hold her close. Instead, he gave her a kiss that suggested a future.

He cannot think. He can scarcely breathe. But he has no desire to either, he simply wants to keep kissing her.

He beams, ‘Legos, I just love it. I wanted so badly, and Mummy said I would get on my birthday. Thanks.’ He rushes to kiss my cheeks. I wonder how effortlessly kids express their emotions.

He bowed over her hand and kissed the knuckles. He'd never despised a glove more in his life.

He closes his eyes. Our lips brush lightly. "If you ask me to kiss you , I will," he says. His fingers stroke the inside of my wrists, and I burst into flames. "Kiss me," I say. He does.

He cupped his hand around her cheek, and she marveled at how perfectly his palm fit her cheek. His fingers in her hair, she waited, maybe for an eternity, for his lips to meet hers. When they did it was like being inside an exploding star. Time and space became irrelevant. She slipped her arms under his, clinging to him, his body the only thing stopping her from drifting away, untethered in space. His hand on her back slipped under layers of clothes, finding her skin. He pulled her close, and she leaned into him, feeling like she could never be close enough to him.