Feel When Touching Quotes & Sayings
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Top Feel When Touching Quotes

She was twelve," Claybourne went on, his voice flat, but the fury still simmering just beneath the surface. "Sold to a house of ill repute, one known for specializing in virgins. He was her first. As far as I know, her only. So yes, the four of us circle around her the way one might an injured butterfly, never touching it for fear of damaging it more, forever hoping that a day will come when it will again fly. If you harm her, in any manner, no matter how slight, you will answer to us. And while Graves might not have stopped by to issue a warning, don't underestimate him. With that scalpel of his, he could slice out your heart and you'd never feel it. — Lorraine Heath

When I saw you in the hall with Darian," he says at last, "I felt more angry than I've felt in a long time. I was angry and . . . and afraid, that you wanted to be there, that you wanted him touching you. In that one look, I felt more than I've ever felt with Caspida. Zahra, I think you're right - love isn't a choice. If I could choose to love Caspida, maybe this would all be going differently, but I don't think that's possible. Not anymore."
All the smoke inside me sinks as I stare at him. "What are you saying?"
He turns and meets my gaze squarely. As much I want to, I find it impossible to look away. The intensity of his copper gaze holds me entranced.
"I think you know," he says softly. "Or am I the only one who feels it? — Jessica Khoury

When making a film, if I feel nothing in my body, I can't work. I have to touch. I have to feel. I never stop touching. — Claire Denis

When you are accompanied by the instrument - on an instrument like the lute-the lute and voice - you have this sound, and you feel how the music can be so touching and yet so simple. — Cecilia Bartoli

But nobody yet had been able to dig down to what was most captivating about her: this was the mysterious ability of her soul to apprehend in life only that which had once attracted and tormented her in childhood, the time when the soul's instinct is infallible; to seek out the amusing and the touching: to feel constantly an intolerable, tender pity for the creature whose life is helpless and unhappy; to feel across hundreds of miles that somewhere in Sicily a thin-legged little donkey with a shaggy belly is being brutally beaten. Whenever she did come across a creature that was being hurt, she experienced a kind of legendary eclipse - when inexplicable night comes down and ash flies and blood appears on the walls - and it seemed that if at once, at once, she did not help, did not cut short another's torture (the existence of which it was absolutely impossible to explain in a world so conducive to happiness), her heart would not stand it, and she would die. — Vladimir Nabokov

I am quite happy that the Beatles came and went. There is even a sort of glory in not having it go on forever. There is a complete body of work that went from A to Z and it is all pretty damn good stuff. The one thing I am particularly proud of is that nearly every single bit of it has some good message. I feel fortunate when I look back. Life is not easy, but I've been very lucky - and I'm touching wood as I say that. — Paul McCartney

I liked Rafael. I liked listening to Rafael. I liked touching him. I liked it when he took me in his arms and made me feel like I belonged to him, like our hearts ran together as one, indistinct. Rafael was beautiful. Rafael was my heart's friend. I didn't understand how that meant I liked boys. As far as I knew, it only meant I liked Rafael.
More than liked Rafael. — Rose Christo

Ash: I know better than to interfere with the natural order, but I couldn't let you die. I didn't want to watch you suffer.
Tory: Why would you do that?
He led her hand to his face so that she was touching his cheek as he stared at her. His eyes and the pain in them burned her soul deep.
Ash: Because I don't feel broken when you look at me. — Sherrilyn Kenyon

To be mad is to feel with excruciating intensity the sadness and joy of a time which has not arrived or has already been. And to protect their delicate vision of that other time, madmen will justify their condition with touching loyalty, and surround it with a thousand distractive schemes. These schemes, in turn, drive them deeper and deeper into the darkness and light (which is their mortification and their reward), and confront them with a choice. They may either slacken and fall back, accepting the relief of a rational view and the approval of others, or they may push on, and, by falling, arise. When and if by their unforgivable stubbornness they finally burst through to worlds upon worlds of motionless light, they are no longer called afflicted or insane. They are called saints. — Mark Helprin

Kiss me."
I cleared my throat softly even though a doctor had come in and so everyone had turned to him. "Your family is here."
"Don't care, can't feel anything unless you're touching me."
That comment again, from before. "When you're better, you'll tell me what that means."
"Tell you now." He took a breath. "Other people touch me, it's like nothing. When you do it, it's like electric current on my skin, and it goes right to my heart and other places."
"Nice."
"You asked." He smiled wickedly; the sarcasm had not been lost on him. — Mary Calmes

Maybe physical intimacy isn't always about touching. Maybe it's also about being able to sit next to someone at dinner and not care if he takes something off your plate or reaches across you for the salt. Maybe it's about being able to sprawl out on the floor and read a book in the same room with someone who's grading papers and muttering about 'incompetent boobs who couldn't write a good paper if their lives depended on it.' Maybe it's about sharing the same space with another person and not going fucking crazy because you can't get away from them.
That's it, I guess: true intimacy is really just the run of the mill, day to day stuff that happens without thinking - thousands of simple, meaningless, comfortable ways you can be close to someone, never dreaming how shitty you'll feel when you wake up one morning with all of it gone. — Bart Yates

Looking at a human being or even a picture of a human being is different from looking at an object. Newborn babies, only hours old, copy the expressions of adults. They pucker up, try to grin, look surprised, and stick out their tongues. The photographs of imitating infants are both funny and touching. They do not know they are doing it; this response is in them from the beginning. Later, people learn to suppress the imitation mechanism; it would not be good if we went on forever copying every facial expression we saw. Nevertheless, we human beings love to look at faces because we find ourselves there. When you smile at me, I feel a smile form on my own face before I am aware it is happening, and I smile because I am seeing me in your eyes and know that you like what you see. — Siri Hustvedt

Lockie stood with his arms by his sides as she ran her hands over his hair and squeezed his arms. Tina could see how uncomfortable Lockie felt at being touched. Margie hugged him again and again. She didn't notice Lockie's face or she would have stopped. When Margie stood up she was crying. Pete, meanwhile, was watching Tina.
'Start talking,' he said to her and Tina could see he had already decided who was to blame for Lockie's disappearance.
'Her name's Tina,' said Lockie. 'She saved me. Can you take us home, Pete?'
Pete looked at Lockie. 'You know I will, Lockie, but first - '
'Please, Pete,' said Lockie. 'Can you just take us home?'
'Oh god,' said Margie. 'Doug and Sarah - we have to call them. We have to let them know.' She kept touching Lockie, on his head, on his arms and on his back. Tina could see Lockie wince. People wouldn't know that they needed to be careful when they touched him. Some touches can make you feel sick. — Nicole Trope

We both still, lips touching, breaths shared. This is what we are, two broken people who when connected are made whole, made right. I feel this everywhere, my body, my heart, my soul. — S.R. Grey

Before I can respond, Nash continues. "Or was I there, too?" He brushes his lips over mine. "Did you think of my lips when he kissed you?" Light as a feather, he runs his hand down the outside of my thigh and back up again, squeezing my hip. "Did you wish it was me touching you? Like I did the night I came to your room?"
I start to lean back and speak, but his lips take mine, quickly coaxing them apart. Sensation drowns out thought as I feel him breathe into my mouth. "Do you still want me? Because if you do, I'm all yours. — M. Leighton

When you can literally Google anything, you don't feel like you have to go see it in person. You can do a lot of traveling in your bedroom, but you're not touching anything and you're not feeling it. — Kristen Stewart

Under the radiant towers, the floodlit ramparts,
must have wondered at my impulse to touch her,
which was like touching myself,
the way your own hand feels when you hold it
because you want to feel contained. — Mark Doty

I smell you when you're nowhere near me. I feel you, without touching. When you walk into a room, I know you're there even before I look up. Every time I see you smile, I smile. Your happiness has become my happiness. Either I'm in love with you, or you really are my very own angel. Either way, we were meant to be. — Vi Keeland

It's incredibly touching when someone who seems so hopeless finds a few inches of light to stand in and makes everything work as well as possible. All of us lurch and fall, sit in the dirt, are helped to our feet, keep moving, feel like idiots, lose our balance, gain it, help others get back on their feet, and keep going. — Anne Lamott

I think we go well together. I like being with you because I'm never bored. Even when we're not talking, even when we're not touching, even when we're not in the same room, I'm not bored. I'm never bored. I think it's because I have confidence in you, in your thoughts. Do you understand? I love everything I see in you, and everything I don't see. I know your faults, but as it turns out, I feel as though your faults go well with my qualities. We're not afraid of the same things. Even our inner demons go well together! You, you're worth more than you show ... — Anna Gavalda

He tightened his grip on her hand and pulled her toward him in the darkness. He knew exactly how she'd respond, her other hand coming up to push him away, her hand touching the bare, hot skin of his chest so that she drew back in surprise, long enough for him to wrap her tightly against his chest, trapping her hand between them. He knew she'd try to jerk her head away when he slid his hand into her hair and tilted her face back for his kiss. And he knew she'd open her mouth for him.
What he hadn't guessed was what it would feel like. [ ... ]
He hadn't known a mouth could feel like that. That a woman, an argumentative, reluctant woman could feel so hot in his arms, so incredibly right that his monumental self control could start to slip. — Anne Stuart

You live your life like it's a rare treasure to be savored. You take pleasure from the simplest of things and you never take them for granted. I saw the joy on your face and the life in your eyes when you cradled the permits to your chest. I've never seen anything lovelier. I actually thought you would cry just from the joy of touching them. I've been numb all my life, Megeara, but you ... you feel on a level that I can't even imagine, and for a little while I wanted to feel that, too. (Arik) — Sherrilyn Kenyon

He's kissing me, quick desperate kisses, like I'm something he needs to live; and I'm kissing him back, crazy with the ache I feel for him, trying to kiss him better, trying to fix him. I'm touching his face, feeling the roughness of his beard, the wet of his tears, feeling the tremors passing through his body, hearing his ragged breathing. And each kiss is a failure. A failed attempt to escape from all that's happening. And I only know this when he slows, drawing it out, letting me taste regret, letting things linger. He pulls away, and I'm saying "Don't, don't, don't", trying to bring him back, kissing his face. But I've lost him. — Kirsty Eagar

I desire to be with you. I miss you. I feel lonely when I can't see you. I am obsessed with you, fascinated by you, infatuated with you. I hunger for your taste, your smell, the feel of your soul touching mine. — Jack Llawayllynn

I open my mouth to, I don't know, apologize again maybe. But he takes my face in his hands and presses his forehead to mine. And he's so close that I can feel his little warm breaths, and all I know is that when he draws his next breath, I want to get sucked in.
Our lips touched, almost as soft as not touching at all. Then they press closer to each other, draw back uncertainly, touch again. There is warmth shooting through my broken body where there should be pain, and I put my arms around the back of his neck and I hold on to him. I hold on because you never know in this place when something good will be taken away. — Lauren DeStefano

Don't give up on books. They feel so good - their friendly heft. The sweet reluctance of their pages when you turn them with your sensitive fingertips. A large part of our brains is devoted to deciding what our hands are touching, is good or bad for us. Any brain worth a nickel knows books are good for us. — Kurt Vonnegut

I couldn't meet his gaze. I stared at the table just behind him
the mess of cards on it, the lantern giving off its quiet glow. "When you gave me your shirt to wear that night, I could feel you. I could feel your essence."
The world went still. We were standing only inches from each other, not touching. Outside, I could hear the faint murmur of the wind blowing through the trees.
"What did it feel like?" he asked in a low voice.
"Like ... coming home," I admitted. — L.A. Weatherly

She was almost touching him, now. Looking up into his eyes. What she could feel in him was something she's only felt before when she gave him her life energy. Childlike, marveling joy. Trust and vulnerability. And such love ...
Then she was in his arms and they weren't separate beings any longer. Their minds were together, sharing thoughts, sharing a happiness beyond thought. Sharing everything. — L.J.Smith

Name one hero who was happy."
I considered. Heracles went mad and killed his family; Theseus lost his bride and father; Jason's children and new wife were murdered by his old; Bellerophon killed the Chimera but was crippled by the fall from Pegasus' back.
"You can't." He was sitting up now, leaning forward.
"I can't."
"I know. They never let you be famous AND happy." He lifted an eyebrow. "I'll tell you a secret."
"Tell me." I loved it when he was like this.
"I'm going to be the first." He took my palm and held it to his. "Swear it."
"Why me?"
"Because you're the reason. Swear it."
"I swear it," I said, lost in the high color of his cheeks, the flame in his eyes.
"I swear it," he echoed.
We sat like that a moment, hands touching. He grinned.
"I feel like I could eat the world raw. — Madeline Miller

This green place in which I stood with James turned slowly around us like a music box. All my memories returning, and all his. I could see and feel each of his days and he mine. Childhood songs, books read, hearts broken, arguments forgiven.The sweetness of these imperfections far outshining the regrets. Our lives overlapped as naturally as two blades of grass brushing together.
My pain forgotten, my clothes dry and clean, I pulled James close to me. As he lifted my chin, I felt no sensation of falling as when I had been Light touching one who is Quick. It wasn't the mere heat of a stolen moment in borrowed flesh. We touched now soul to soul, both of us Light. And when we kissed, the garden rocked, floating upstream. — Laura Whitcomb

Then she paused, and I could hear the churning sound of her tongue as it licked her teeth and lips, and could feel the hot breath on my neck. Then the skin of my throat began to tingle as one's flesh does when the hand that is to tickle it approaches nearer- nearer. I could feel the soft, shivering touch of the lips on the supersensitive skin of my throat, and the hard dents of two sharp teeth, just touching and pausing there. I closed my eyes in a languorous ecstasy and waited- waited with beating heart. — Bram Stoker

Dads. Do you not realize that your child needs to feel your skin on his? Do you not realize the incredible and powerful bond that skin on skin contact with your daughter will give you? Do you not understand the permanent mental connections that are made when you stroke your son's bare back or rub your daughter's bare tummy while you tell bedtime stories? And if any idiot says anything about that being inappropriate, you're gonna get kicked in the face, first by me, and then by every other good dad out there. Touching your child is your duty as a father. — Dan Pearce

She tried to kill you, Viola. She tried to blow you up ... You don't owe her nothing,' he says.
But I feel his arms on me and I'm realizing things don't seem so impossible anymore. I feel Todd touching me and there's anger rising in my gut but it's not at him and I grunt and I pull myself up again, leaning on him to keep me there as I stand. 'I do owe her,' I say. 'I owe her the look on her face when she sees me alive. — Patrick Ness

And every year there is a brief, startling moment
When we pause in the middle of a long walk home and
Suddenly feel something invisible and weightless
Touching our shoulders, sweeping down from the air:
It is the autumn wind pressing against our bodies;
It is the changing light of fall falling on us. — Edward Hirsch

It's me," he says softly. "Stop listening to everything else. Remember the way you feel when I'm kissing you and touching you. Don't think with your head. You know me. And when my lips are on yours, you trust me." As if to make his point, he dips his head and brushes his mouth over mine. Sparks fly between us. As always. "You trust me, when my hands are on your skin." He runs his palms down my arms and then over to my waist where he pushes them up under the edge of my shirt. Chills break out down my back. "You trust me when you turn your mind off, when you just feel. — M. Leighton

When you're alone and you feel sad, try reading a book. Try touching someone's heart. Try to imagine what they were thinking, what they wanted to convey. If you do that, you might get something amazing. — Mizuki Nomura

If you feel safe in the area you're working in, you're not working in the right area. Always go a little further into the water than you feel you're capable of being in. Go a little bit out of your depth. And when you don't feel that your feet are quite touching the bottom, you're just about in the right place to do something exciting. — David Bowie

And you and me, we're . . . ?" He doesn't finish the question. He doesn't have to.
"Yeah," Hallelujah repeats. "You and me."
Jonah tilts his head so it meets hers on the pillow. They lie there, side by side, with him under the sheets and her on top of them, holding hands and touching foreheads. Jonah's eyes are closed. Just when she thinks he must have fallen asleep, he murmurs, "Stay."
"Okay."
Outside the window, clouds are rolling in over the mountains. A storm. But beyond the band of rain clouds, the sky is blue again. Bright, shining blue. The storm won't last long. And, Hallelujah realizes, sometimes you need the storm to really appreciate the sun and the blue sky.
Jonah is breathing evenly. She can feel each exhale on the side of her neck.
She smiles, and she stays. — Kathryn Holmes

Grin is still beside me. His arms are hung tightly as his side and I take his hand. It is like touching stone and he turns stiffly toward me as we begin making our way back to where Rosso had camped the horses. We are both quiet but I know we were both thinking the same thing. That we wish we were out there and that we wish this wasn't happening at the same time. I suddenly feel the need to apologize to him too. It is because of me that his father and brothers are in this situation but that was their choice. When he looks at me, I can see forgiveness in his eyes. Neither of us have to speak to understand and neither of us look back at the people we leave behind. — Celia Mcmahon

Close your eyes and simply "feel" the spot your finger is touching. Then, after a couple of minutes, let your hands down. Continue to hold your attention on the spot just as you did when your finger was there. — Frederick Lenz

It's hard to see. There are only the shadows of things. She feels along the fridge to the wall and the phone, touching first her uncle's keys, then her dead aunt's, a woman Devon can feel judging her from the grave even though she's only borrowing something, not stealing it. She has never stolen anything in her life, and she never will. She steps into the cool, still air of the closed garage and she sees Sick's face. The way he looked at her as she let him in, the only one. His hair hung down and his lips were parted and as he moved inside her his eyes seemed to shine with a sweet sadness, the kind that only comes when you know something good can never, ever last. But you keep going anyway. All you can do is keep going and never quit. — Andre Dubus III

Anytime in my life when I see an accumulation of items, a title of ownership in my name, I feel my insides swell. What am I going to do with all of this? Where am I going to put it? So I get rid of it. And I feel calm again. I am a library patron, a renter without an option to buy, a Salvation Arm donator, a spring cleaner of the highest order.
Why then, why in the world, do I work here, surrounded by all of this? It's easy enough. This is art, and it is not mine. I am only looking after it while the real owners are away. Most of all, I suppose, although I may not want things, I don't mind touching them for a while. — Kevin Wilson

For those who feel their lives are a grave disappointment to God, it requires enormous trust and reckless, raging confidence to accept that the love of Jesus Christ knows no shadow of alteration or change. When Jesus said, "Come to me, all you who labor and are heavy burdened," He assumed we would grow weary, discouraged, and disheartened along the way. These words are a touching testimony to the genuine humanness of Jesus. He had no romantic notion of the cost of discipleship. He knew that following Him was as unsentimental as duty, as demanding as love. — Brennan Manning

Touch is a freaky thing when you're not used to it. It makes you feel all kinds of things. — Neal Shusterman

I do yoga. People think it is easy, just touching your toes. It is hard. But I tend to go with my own flow. It's back to the movement thing. I feel it when I need to train, and I do what I feel I need to do. And when I am in the run-up to a fight, I am really at it the whole time, might be getting my weight down to meet the limit for the division. Soon I am moving up and I am going to be champion in the next one too. — Conor McGregor

To my unsuspecting love.
When I look into your eyes, I lose all sense of time and place. Reason robbed, clear thought erased, I am lost in the paradise I find within your gaze.
I long to touch your blushing cheek, to whisper in your ear how I adore you, how I have lost my heart to you, how I cannot bear the thought of living without you.
To be so near to you without touching you is agony. Your blindness to my feelings is a daily torment, and I feel driven to the edge of madness by my love for you.
Where is your compassion when I need it most? Open your eyes , Love, and see what is right before you: that I am not merely a friend, but a man deeply, desperately , in love with you.
Longing for you. — Julianne Donaldson

Please, Noah, I don't want to do this wrong. Tell me how to make you feel good."
He shifted so that his body rested beside mine, his leg and arm still draped over me. I felt small under his warmth and strength.
His chocolate-brown eyes softened. "Being with you feels good. Touching you-" he tucked a curl behind my ear. "-feels good. I have never wanted anyone like I want you. There's nothing you can do wrong when just breathing makes everything right. — Katie McGarry

Bring your lips closer until they're touching mine." When I did, the heat was electric. "Can you feel that?" he asked, moving his lips from one corner of my mouth to the other. "That's the chemistry between man and woman. It doesn't need to be forced. You shouldn't overthink what to do with your mouth or tongue - give in to your instincts. — Dannika Dark