I need to get ready. Ash? Touch the food and I won't take you for a driving lesson tomorrow. Dad? Touch it and I'll make take him for a driving lesson tomorrow." Dad backed away from the counter. Ash scowled. I laughed and continued upstairs.
I have my books And my poetry to protect me; I am shielded in my armor, Hiding in my room, safe within my womb. I touch no one and no one touches me. I am a rock, I am an island.
He liked to touch, she realized. In bed, he kept his arms around her or a hand on her like now. The way he played with her breasts, or just touched her, or ran his hands over her body, made her feel so...so beautiful, Desirable.
I wonder why when I told him that my chest still ached even though I had finally told him how I felt, he said, "So you finally realize how I've felt these past three years?" and laughed.
A poet is a musician that can't sing. Words have to find a man's mind before they can touch his heart, and some men's minds are woeful small targets. Music touches their hearts directly no matter how small or stubborn the mind of the man who listens.
When we touch the place in our lives where sexuality and spirituality come together, we touch our wholeness and the fullness of our power, and at the same time our connection with a power larger than ourselves.
He extended a finger to her face, the simple gesture bringing into play the sleek muscles of his shoulders and arms. “You are so beautiful, so adorable. I know full well you’re my doom, and I don’t care.
I live there... where the birds are infinite everywhere where they flee it's a place your eyes can wander but never see Where everyone accepts me, Without any pretense It's a place your mind can picture but never really comprehend.
Like a speeding train I am passing by... I don’t know where I’m heading with whom or why all I know is that I will never, ever pass from here again all I know is I’m skidding forward on this track of life.
Tomorrow came with the illusion of today even more fleeting than yesterday it came like it always comes and went like it’s always gone like a favorite song in its final seconds Tomorrow came and left leaving nothing nothing... but a familiar linger...
Rhythm. Life is full of it; words should have it, too. But you have to train your ear. Listen to the waves on a quiet night; you’ll pick up the cadence. Look at the patterns the wind makes in dry sand and you’ll see how syllables in a sentence sh...
In Narnia a girl might ring a bell in a deserted temple and feel the chime in her eyes, pure as the freeze that forces tears. Then when the sound dies out, the White Witch wakes. It was like, I want to touch you, and I can touch you, now what next, a...
What I've learned by going out and playing smaller venues and being more in touch with people is getting feedback, just by virtue of being able to watch the crowd react and watch their faces instead of being blinded by 3,000 spotlights. I've realized...
I am in love, I became an angel; flowers bloom with my touch, birds comes to me and sing love song, air touches my cheeks to feel my love, leaves are dancing around me with the melody of love. Oh love, I am in love, I am the love.
Justin Bieber is signed to Def Jam, and I don't believe in touching nothing that ain't mine. I want someone to give me the same respect - don't touch nothing that's mine. I still want what I want. But Justin Bieber is definitely a friend of a family....
Soft moonlight touches my lips and cheeks, I feel your soul dance in my heart. Breeze of the Southern sea blows my hair, I feel your love touch my flowers of desire, In my garden roses dance with the kindness of air. I feel my soul wanting her bliss ...
[ED-209 has malfunctioned and killed Mr. Kinney in a demonstration] Bob Morton: Somebody wanna call a *goddamn* paramedic? Let's go, Johnson! Johnson: [frantic] You pull the plug on this thing! [picks up phone and yells back to others] Johnson: All r...
I keep in touch with what's real.
Keeping in touch with the people that matter is important.
I don't remember everything," he said. "Not yet. But I remember you." He brought her hand up, touched the gold ring on her right index finger, the Fair Folk metal warm to the touch. "Clary," he said. "You're Clary. You're my best friend.
At least not until the Terror took hold of him. Not until he saw, night after night, a little boat being rowed across the river. Not until he saw it return at dawn. Not until he saw what his Untouchable son had touched. More than touched. Enter. Love...
