I am angry that I starved my brain and that I sat shivering in my bed at night instead of dancing or reading poetry or eating ice cream or kissing a boy...
Whenever you lose someone you love, you have those lingering regrets. You wish you could hug them or kiss them or talk to them...I don't want those regrets
I'm weird. I'm not too focused on the physicality of a man. They just have to become my best friend, and then I start to get attracted to them. I've never been in a bar and just hit on a guy and started kissing him; I've never done that in my life.
I know my generation - a lot of them, they're getting old now, and they want to think back fondly, they want to kid themselves. A lot of them think, 'Yeah, we were the best.' That's the kiss of death. That's non-growth. And also that's very bad for t...
When a politician spends a million on himself, we rally and call him a thief. But when a cardinal spends the same amount on his attire, we kneel down and kiss his hand.
Her green eyes flutter all the way open, and she looks amused. It pricks his ego slightly. After kiss, shouldn’t she be fainting at his feet? But she’s grinning.
When they kissed she immediately felt his tongue, tensed and strong, pushing past her teeth, like some bully shouldering his way into a room. Entering her.
He treats his body like it's made of fireworks, each one timed to the beat. Is he dancing alone or dancing with everyone in the room? Here's the secret: It doesn't matter.
We do not start as dust. We do not end as dust. We make more than dust. That's all we ask of you. Make more than dust.
So what’s your story?” Ryan asks. Avery looks up at him, hand still in the water. “My story?” “Yeah. Everybody has at least one.
'I'm sorry,' he says. 'I don't usually like people. So when I do, part of me is really amused and the other part refuses to believe it's happening.'
Suddenly, it seemed there were about a million times he was supposed to have kissed her, even without the benefit of a script, even without any sort of direction.
Are you following me?" He asked. "Us?" I was the first to speak. "Um, maybe. Hi there. How are you tonight?" He looked at me like I might be a bit crazy.
Chocolate, coffee, and ice cream were far more reliable when it came to providing a good time, and at least they would never disappoint me.
I knew you'd kiss me." "How?" I say. Because I didn't know myself. "Because I am in pain," He say's. "That's the only way I get your attention.
Before she could ponder what on earth he meant or come up with a proper response, he took their charade a step further. He kissed her.
Very intense first summer out, to be 18 years old and never having gone on a date, never having smoked a cigarette, never had a drink, even a sip of beer, never kissed a girl, all of those things. It made for a fairly intense first year out.
I learned about life from life itself, love I learned in a single kiss and could teach no one anything except that I have lived with something in common among men.
KISS has always been outside of the borders of what other bands can do. Not that some of these other bands wouldn't want to do it - the fact that they may snicker or look down their noses at what we do is more out of jealously than anything else.
All superheroes have origin stories, like how Bruce Wayne’s parents get killed and he goes to Tibet or whatever, and Superman is an alien, and Spiderman had that radioactive spider. Me? I kissed a janitor in the school bathroom
I barely brushed towards her cheek as I moved towards her mouth, her nails tickled my chest, driving me insane. Kissing her became my single reason for breathing.
