Any more questions?" I ask, poking him gently in the ribs. "Do you still love me any?" Eliot asks, putting his hand over mine. "A little. " "A little?" he asks, pulling away from me. "A lot. " "How much?" he asks. "More than chocolate chip cookies. " "Mmm" he says, kissing my shoulder. "More than walking on the beach. " Eliot kisses me on the neck. "More than. . . " I pause, turning to look at him. "More than?" he asks, kissing my lips. I turn toward him. "Anything.
I remember my first kisses with a lot of people, and they're rad experiences. And you don't have to really take it to that next level because that's what keeps it exciting.
Kisses were better than potions.
The truth is in the kisses.
As long as Kline doesn't kiss you. " The warning was clear in his voice. "Same goes. " "If he kisses me, he's getting decked. " I laughed. "You know what I meant.
September has come, it is hers Whose vitality leaps in the autumn, Whose nature prefers Trees without leaves and a fire in the fireplace. So I give her this month and the next Though the whole of my year should be hers who has rendered already So many of its days intolerable or perplexed But so many more so happy. Who has left a scent on my life, and left my walls Dancing over and over with her shadow Whose hair is twined in all my waterfalls And all of London littered with remembered kisses.
He leans over and kisses me. And suddenly, my life splits in two: before and after.
I don’t just kiss people. Kisses aren’t. . . just with me.
Parents are the hardest-working members of the population. But they do it for the highest wages. Kisses.
People think, 'Wow, you're an actress, so people must be really nice to you and kiss your ass. ' NOBODY kisses my ass.