Quotes about touch

We steal if we touch tomorrow. It is God's.

The sort of poetry I seek resides in objects man can't touch.

I don't think anybody should ever touch anybody in anger, ever.

I had only one superstition. I made sure to touch all the bases when I hit a home run.

God created each one of us with a light inside. I’ve had sex with all kinds of people every single person has a kind of beam inside that shines once they are touched properly.

He has a magic touch. He can turn a G into a C. My heart was made of gold now it's all cold.

A woman should never have a need to fear the man who holds her in his arms neither his hands that touches her.

...dark embers smolder inside me - one touch and they flare - who would have thought memory combustible, or near you bright sparks appear?...

I saw myself in the mirror, and from my expression I had a shocking intimation of the rift between my body and my soul. Whereas my face was drained by defeat and shock, inside my head was another universe: I now understood as an elemental fact of life that while I was here, inside my body was a soul, a meaning, that all things were made of desire, touch, and love, that what I was suffering was composed of the same elements.

It is the touch of a lover's arms that I so desperately crave, not the memories of a love no longer mine.

Touch has a memory. O say, love, say,What can I do to kill it and be free?

Touch has a memory.

If my hand on yours trembles it's because bodies never lie.

I knew if I started touching you I wouldn't be able to stop.

I want him everywhere. I burn for him in places he hasn't even touched.

You're too far for my hands to hold you, but too near for my heart to love you.

A person could last a long while without touch, but once someone had experienced the comfort, joy, and sheer relief of another human body close, the desire to experience that again was hard to deny.

touchKindness never use harsh words its touch warmth the needy person.

...finally her hands, so light, holding his head still and catching all his thoughts and imprisoning them there, in the space that no longer existed between them.

Every time I am in the dark and a bit of light falls on me, I see a bit of you in my shadows. There is always a bit of you in every song I hear, in every thought I conceive, in every rain that I drench in, in every star that I stare at in the sky every night and in every breeze that touches me.

The power of touch. Life is controlled by such a facet manipulated by Man. All are knowledgeable of its boundaries, most are negligent.

How could it be possible that there were that many nerve endings all in one place?

Internet has grown to not only touch humans in a physical sense but also in an emotional sense.

It made me giddy. It made me blush, worse than before. It was like liquor. It made me drunk. I drew away. When her breath came now upon my mouth, it came very cold. My mouth was wet, from hers. I said, in a whisper,'Do you feel it?

It’s the sensation that gives rise to ego or personal identity. All the external and internal experiences of life are experienced only with the sensation.

Perhaps it was the way he'd look at me and smile,Perhaps it was the sound of his voice after being utterly defeated,Perhaps it was the warmth of his touch,Perhaps I've always been in love with you

Touch of Ability with Action can never be lost in the journey of life.

You must find a boy your own age. Someone mild and beautiful to be your lover. Someone who will tremble for your touch, offer you a marguerite by its long stem with his eyes lowered. Someone whose fingers are a poem.

I am worthy of touch without bartering my self worth.

No matter what happens in the outside world, as long as you have faith in yourself, no darkness can touch you!

She'd had little patience with darkness, and her heartheld only a measure of shadow. I touchedthe warm dust of those colors, her tools,and left there with light on the tips of my fingers.

I felt a warm hand touch my forehead. And then my cheek. I held my act steady though Akinli’s touch made me feel more than awake.“Where in the world did you come from, you beautiful, silent girl?” he whispered.

the mostbeautiful tideis the sweepof your heartagainst mine.

She reminded me of the sea; the way she came dancing towards you, wild and beautiful, and just when she was almost close enough to touch she'd rush away again.

I so want to believe him, but right now even his touch feels like a lie.

I want him to touch me again. I want to feel his hands, as soft as clouds. But I’m afraid if he touches me, all seven billion billion billion atoms that make up my body will blow apart and scatter across the universe.

I wonder if she feels from me the thing I feel about her when I touch her. Not in sex, which he understood now was a different thing from everything else. I just mean when I touch her skin before we sleep and I understand all the things beneath it. Animals can't have that. They can't build their loved ones that way and feel right through their skin. That's never worn off, whatever else. He looked a where she slept. I can't imagine living without that.

She liked his unique smell, and it turned on all five of her senses, wanting to see him naked, touch him while naked, hear him as he moaned while he made love, taste his skin, and feel his naked body as she seduced him with the trailing of hungry fingers.

I touch the future. I teach.

Touch a scientist and you touch a child.

It is in our faults and failings, not in our virtues, that we touch each other, and find sympathy. It is in our follies that we are one.

Justice and truth are too such subtle points that our tools are too blunt to touch them accurately.

I have a slight addiction to Diet Coke, and, of course, I absolutely shouldn't touch it because it makes the kidneys work really hard.

From the FA to UEFA and FIFA, there's a naivety, a lack of knowledge and understanding and packed with people who are out of touch.

Words are but symbols for the relations of things to one another and to us nowhere do they touch upon absolute truth.

I remember that feeling of skin. It'sstrange to remember touch more than thought. But my fingersstill tingle with it.

You are as ordinary as spring,' he murmured. 'As powerless as sunlight.' He ran his fingertips down her neck. 'And when I touch you, I burn,' he said, making her heart stop and a flare of wild panic light inside her. He was too close; he was getting to her.

Death can ride the wind,and he can also walk the streets,looking for those listed,or those he accidently meets.A touch or a whisper,the smell of his breath,it's what lets us know,he beckons that we're next.And hide he doth find,in a closet or a chest,because our days were numbered,'cause death doesn't jest.

It's love when someone can touch you without using their hands.

He makes a face and tosses the flower at me. It lands on my cheek, and I pick it up and twirl it between my fingers. I could lie out here all day, not moving an inch, feeling the sun above and the grass below. With a contented sigh, I stretch my arms wide, raking the grass with my fingers—and find myself brushing Aladdin’s hand with my own. I pull it away quickly, my cheeks warming. He laughs a little.“Sometimes,” he says, “I forget you’re supposed to be four thousand years old. You act as shy a

Nearness to nature... keeps the spirit sensitive to impressions not commonly felt and in touch with the unseen powers.

One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.

I could still feel the echo of his hand on mine.

Love consists in this, that two solitudes protect and touch and greet each other.

At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet.

Touch seems to be as essential as sunlight.

You don’t need to be the tide to rise and fall, you don’t have to be a wave to touch the shore; just be a little sand-grain and feel them all

Perfection isn't something that we can see and it isn't something that we can touch, but it exists here on Earth.It resides in each and everyone of us within our hearts.It's called LOVE!

I seen the look in your eyes...I reached out to touch you but feared I would mark your skin. I do not want just tonight, my love. I want to know that always...always...you will be mine.

This is how you will remember that you are mine. Every painful touch, everyaching hug, will remind you - that you are a slave - to me.

Every life is a canvas and every interaction is a brush, therefore we’d be wise to consider how we handle the paint.

Everywhere he touches is fire. My whole body is burning up, the two of us becoming twin points of the same bright white flame.

As soon as I turned the key I saw it hanging, the color of fire and sunset. the colour of flamboyant flowers. ‘If you are buried under a flamboyant tree, ‘ I said, ‘your soul is lifted up when it flowers. Everyone wants that.’She shook her head but she did not move or touch me.

They were the prisoners hidden in different cages, and yet they saw each other every day. He named her fire and she named him the wind, the day they both touched and embraced each other they burnt down everything that stood in their way.

Never touch your idols: the gilding will stick to your fin

That’s the way Chris lives, warning everyone who gets close of the lightning that may strike. Never touch anything, never make a mark. But Anatole can’t live that way. The world’s too lonely a place: he has to touch things, he has to put his arms around them.

She watches him for hours. She wants to be the sheets that cover his toes. She wants to be the ceiling separating him from the sky: above him, the first thing he sees before and after dreams. She wants to be the open window letting in the light for him.

He holds out a trembling hand and traces the shape of her arm, descending to her elbow. “You’re like mist,” he says. “You really don’t feel this?”Love shakes her head. “No.”But that’s not entirely true, because this illusion of a touch has turned her into a current, this human has reached down to her bones.Then his fingers curl right through her hip, and he lowers his voice. “How ’bout that?

If she could explore and heal his injuries with her fingers, it would be another type of magic, her skin making contact with his. Putting her mind to it, Love would become familiar with his body. She would know him from top to bottom, from beginning to end. Touching this boy would be the death, and life, of her.

They run, they touch, they learn, they play, They listen, they work hard at growing all day.

Touch. It is touch that is the deadliest enemy of chastity, loyalty, monogamy, gentility with its codes and conventions and restraints. By touch we are betrayed and betray others ... an accidental brushing of shoulders or touching of hands ... hands laid on shoulders in a gesture of comfort that lies like a thief, that takes, not gives, that wants, not offers, that awakes, not pacifies. When one flesh is waiting, there is electricity in the merest contact.

I pictured a girl who made every moment, everything she touched, and everyone around her feel lighter and sweeter.

I know who you are,” Jack whispers. “I’ve always known you.” His hands glide up my arms, from the angles of my wrists to the creases of my elbows. He presses his mouth to my left ear—I shiver from his breath. “You’re a force to be reckoned with.

He said it with everything he did, every touch, every caress, every physical pleasure he bestowed upon me. Give it all to me. Give me your will.

There is no reason to be in touch with you I m reduced to sub existence

Success is not money, cars, fame or material possessions but the lives you touched positively.

If he touches me, I will succumb. I know the power he wields over me and my traitorous body. I know.

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 dagger?

For a moment we are weightless, eyes open and locked underwater, flowers drawn down with us, swirling around us in a current of white bubbles. My hair floats around us both like black silk. His hands are still around my waist, mine pressed against his bare chest. My lamp drifts between us.Aladdin plants his feet against the bottom of the pool and kicks off, pushing us upward to burst through the surface. He gasps in air and shakes the wet hair from his eyes. Without pulling away, we float in sil

If you can't feel the touch of the gods on your own, it greatly behooves you to work on that before some lecher tells you his touch is just as good.

You must make love to him like his touch is your salvation.

He lays me on the bed. I say, right before he kisses me again, “If you kiss me again, I’m going to knee you in the balls.”His hands are incredibly soft, like a cloud touching me.“I won’t let you just…” He searches for the right word. “…fly away from me, Cassie Sullivan.”He blows out the candle beside the bed.I feel his kiss more intensely now, in the darkness of the room where his sister died. In the quiet of the house where his family died. In the stillness of the world where the life we knew b

Aren’t you coming with us?”I feel his hand on my cheek. I know what this means and I slap his hand away.“You’re coming with us, Evan,” I say.“There’s something I have to do.”“That’s right.” My hand flails for his in the dark. I find it and pull hard. “You have to come with us.”“I’ll find you, Cassie. Don’t I always find you? I—”“Don’t, Evan. You don’t know you’ll be able to find me.”“Cassie.” I don’t like the way he says my name. His voice is too soft, too sad, too much like a good-bye voice. “I

He reached over and took Taylor’s hand. She did not pull her hand away.He moved his hand up her arm. She stiffened a little and glanced around, making sure they weren’t seen. Or, maybe, hoping they were.His hand reached her neck. He leaned toward her and pulled her to him.He kissed her.She kissed him back.He kissed her harder. And she slid her hand under his shirt, fingers stroking his bare flesh.Then he pulled away, fast.“Sorry, I . . .” He hesitated, his wallowing brain arguing against a body

High tech needs to be complemented by high touch.

Kiss is another physical gesture if it doesn't touch your soul.

Touch your vision daily.

As I write this entry, I touch a saber-tooth tiger skull in my office. Without stars there could be no skulls

In the effort to reach the stars and change the world, make sure you touch a heart and change a life.

And then there's the sickness I feel from looking at legs I can't touch, or at lips that don't smile at me. Or hips that don't reach for me. And hearts that don't beat for me.

A touch may not be always be a love but love is always a touch!

A touch may not always be a love but love is always a touch!

its amazing thought of love with a specific person ,how can creates a storm to touch .

When bodies talk, a hand brushing across a face declares love the tongue never speaks. When bodies talk, eyes make promises and lips keep them in the silent transfer of vows of the heart. When bodies talk, a steady stare and firm glance becomes a rod of correction. When bodies talk, they speak to us all in quiet whispers, heart-to-heart, and soul-to-soul, in soundless conversations.

Afterward she lies nestled against me, her hair tickling my face. I stroke her lightly, memorizing her body. I want her to melt into me, like butter on toast. I want to absorb her and walk around for the rest of my days with her encased in my skin.

I tried to hold fire once...see from a distance it mesmerized me captivated me for hours at a timeThe more it danced with the wind, I felt my body sway to its rhythm I tried to hold fire onceIt's glow drew me in closerAnd although I know full well the damage that fire can do...Staring directly at it, I know it's beauty tooIt's warmth was now on my face and I couldn't imagine being in any other placeI reached out with my bare hands & it danced even moreAnd suddenly I felt it's heat deep within my

All of them with their own lives, untouched by mine. Or each other's.

Mattia thought that he and Alice were like that, twin primes, alone and lost, close but not close enough to really touch each other.

It is in the imperceptible space between that which touches and that which is touched that one body can be felt, no matter how closely, to be different from another.