Tender Touch Quotes & Sayings

People will always need love, romance, a tender touch, and really personal and deeply felt music. — Susannah McCorkle

True gardeners cannot bear a glove Between the sure touch and the tender root. — May Sarton

So God throws open the door of this world - and enters as a baby. As the most vulnerable imaginable. Because He wants unimaginable intimacy with you. What religion ever had a god that wanted such intimacy with us that He came with such vulnerability to us? What God ever came so tender we could touch Him? So fragile that we could break Him? So vulnerable that His bare, beating heart could be hurt? Only the One who loves you to death. — Ann Voskamp

After all these years, still a spot within her fluttered at his touch, and his voice, throaty and hushed in her ear, tickled along her spine. Naked, they walked to the bedroom. Beneath the covers, they fumbled with each other's bodies, arms and legs, backbones and hip bones, until they found the familiar, tender lines like the creases in an old map that has been folded and refolded over the years. — Eowyn Ivey

For the sight of him inflicted such strange tremors in my mind and body that I reacted as a tender shoot must at the first touch of the sun's rays, as it awakens to a joyful beginning. — April Grey

Seeing that glorious body and to-die-for face only made her crave him more.
Then he had kissed her.
And what a kiss!
It was a kiss like none other. There was fire and a hunger that was both savage as well as tender.
At first.
Then the fire had come. The kiss had charred her, searing her from the inside out. Each touch of his tongue, each time those lips of his moved over here, had been the most incredible feeling in the world. — Donna Grant

She was inexorably in motion, on her way to a fate that would not include him, and though she missed him still, she was conscious that something had shifted inside her since she'd seen him on the vid. Through some unknown agency, the roar of his loss had diminished to a loud rumble, and the waves had spent much of their fury. The hold he'd left inside her was beginning to knit itself closed, and if she squinted, she could see that one day far in the distance, all that would remain of it would be a ragged seam, sensitive to the touch perhaps, but no longer tender. — Hillary Jordan

This is what it means to be loved ... when someone wants to touch you, to be tender ... — Banana Yoshimoto

In the kitchen, her family nibbled Helen's lemon squares. Melanie urged brownies on the nurses. "Take these," she told Lorraine. "We can't eat them all, but Helen won't stop baking."
"Sweetheart," Lorraine said, "everybody mourns in her own way."
Helen mourned her sister deeply. She arrived each day with shopping bags. Her cake was tender with sliced apples, but her almond cookies crumbled at the touch. Her pecan bars were awful, sticky-sweet and hard enough to break your teeth. They remained untouched in the dining room, because Helen never threw good food away. — Allegra Goodman

Without another word, we began to eat. I was hungry, but no appetite would excuse the way we set upon those dishes. We shoveled food into our mouths in a manner ill befitting our fine attire. Bears would have blushed to see us bent over our plates. The pheasant, still steaming from the oven, its dark flesh redolent with the mushroom musk of the forest floor, was gnawed quickly to the bone. It was a touch gamy - no milk-fed goose, this - but it was tender, and the piquant hominy balanced that wild taste as I had hoped it would. The eggs, laced pink at the edges and floating delicately in a carnal sauce, were gulped down in two bites. The yolks were cooked to that rare liminal degree, no longer liquid but not yet solid, like the formative moment of a sun-colored gem. — Eli Brown

Now, since these promises of God are words of holiness, truth, righteousness, liberty, and peace, and are full of universal goodness, the soul, which cleaves to them with a firm faith, is so united to them, nay, thoroughly absorbed by them, that it not only partakes in, but is penetrated and saturated by, all their virtues. For if the touch of Christ was healing, how much more does that most tender spiritual touch, nay, absorption of the word, communicate to the soul all that belongs to the word! In this way therefore the soul, through faith alone, without works, is from the word of God justified, sanctified, endued with truth, peace, and liberty, and filled full with every good thing, and is truly made the child of God, as it is said, "To them gave He power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on His name" (John i. 12). — Martin Luther

He wanted to possess her mouth, her body, her mind and heart. To touch every deep, soft and secret part of her: the tender arch of her palate, the vulnerable curve beneath each breast, the snug corner of her heart where his memory lived.

-Luke's thoughts — Tessa Dare

Don't mistake me. I want you. You are what they call a tease. I don't like that, and I intend to make you fully aware of my displeasure by fucking you senseless and subjecting you to all kinds of stimulation that will make your tender young body shiver and writhe for my touch, and mine alone. Sometimes it will be in pain, sometimes in pleasure, but always, always with passion. — Nenia Campbell

But to be honest, there is only so much battle a man can take. I think all of us crave a quieter life with a tender touch. (Sparhawk) — Sherrilyn Kenyon

Enchantment and fulfillment were on the gold and garnet horizon - autumn's breath, a dormant dream reawakened, a yearning nearly satiated, a tender thank you with a brush of the lips, and a connection as fingers touch and go hand in hand. — Donna Lynn Hope

We love music for the buried hopes, the garnered memories, the tender feelings it can summon at a touch. — Letitia Elizabeth Landon

He leaned slightly in to her, tilting his handsome face toward hers.
"I'm going to kiss ye now. Donna be afraid."
She could hear her own breath becoming ragged. "I am nae afraid." Deep down she was petrified.
He moved his mouth over hers, and the touch of his lips was tender and passionate. The kiss was slow and thoughtful, as if he wanted her to savor every delicious moment. Her heart jolted and her pulse pounded. God help her because she was powerless to resist him. His fingers caressed her cheek, her flesh prickling at his mere touch. She was shocked at her own eager response. She knew should deny him, but she couldn't. — Victoria Roberts

But unlike me, she has a hard time saying such things. She loved me with a passion, but I felt it in her expressions, in her touch, in the tender brush of her lips. And, when I needed it most, she loved me with the written word as well. — Nicholas Sparks

When things are shaky and nothing is working, we might realize that we are on the verge of something. We might realize that this is a very vulnerable and tender place, and that tenderness can go either way. We can shut down and feel resentful or we can touch in on that throbbing quality. (9) — Pema Chodron

A simple smile, a tender touch, speaks the true language of love. — Dan Fogelberg

Hope. That's what...that's what a good wife would do. But there's also a time to ...cry.' She reached out and touched him gently on the cheek. Her hand was soft, but far too warm. The last tender caress was both the warmest and the coldest touch All on ever remembered. — Julius Bailey

He probably hadn't written it. I knew that. I certainly hadn't written mine. But after yesterday, his pompous sneer was permanently imprinted on my brain, and I could just picture him sitting at a computer and stringing together sentences like, "His golden tone and tender touch have moved audiences across the continent to tears." I was half-surprised it didn't claim his vibrato could cure cancer. — Jessica Martinez

He exudes virility, evokes desire, and commands attention all with a single look from his stunning eyes. He's edgy and reckless and you want to go along for the ride hoping to get a glimpse of his tender side that breaks through every now and again. The bad boy with a touch of vulnerability who leaves you breathless and steals your heart. — K. Bromberg

We all know water promises weight to carry our grief, pulsing, further and still further away. The cave is something else entirely. Its promises are the sharp moments of sex we insist frighten us when anyone asks us about love, but which we secretly desire above all faint and feathered touch. The prince always knows this and turns again and again away from his beloved when she becomes too tender. He is looking for the opening where the egg rests unharmed. Yes, memory is velocity solidified and molded into something with hooves and breath. We must be careful where we let these creatures run - to granite or sea. — Kelli Allen

Thus we recognize goodness and truth outside of us precisely because they resonate with something that is already inside us. Things "touch our hearts" when they touch us here, and it is because we have already been touched and caressed that we seek for a soul mate, for someone to join us in this tender space. — Ronald Rolheiser

Wishful thinking, that time might heal - it seldom healed anything, only making scars that were often tender to the touch, and ugly. — Charles Todd

Sex is really only touch, the closest of all touch. And it's touch we're afraid of. We're only half-conscious, and half-alive. We've for to come alive and aware. Especially the English have got to get into touch with one another, a bit delicate and a bit tender. It's our crying need. — D.H. Lawrence

Love to a woman is what the sun is to the world, it is her life, her animating principle, without which she must droop, and, if the plant be very tender, die. Except under its influence, a woman can never attain her full growth, never touch the height of her possibilities, or bloom into the plenitude of her moral beauty. A loveless marriage dwarfs our natures, a marriage where love is develops them to their utmost. — H. Rider Haggard

He interrupted her with a kiss, an embrace, a touch, caresses and then with everything, his whole being, his every thought, his only thought, everything, everything, everything. They broke the silence with sighs and the rustle of clothing strewn on the floor. They broke the silence very gently, lazily, and they were considerate and very thorough. They were caring and tender and, although neither quite knew what caring and tenderness were, they succeeded because they very much wanted to. And they were in no hurry whatsoever. The whole world had ceased to exist for a brief moment, but to them, it seemed like a whole eternity. — Andrzej Sapkowski

Daniel's face
the way it had been bathed in violet light when he'd carried her home this morning
appeared before her eyes. His gleaming golden hair. His tender, knowing eyes. The way one touch of his lips transported her far away from any darkness. For him, she'd suffer all of this, and more. — Lauren Kate

It wasn't my first kiss, maybe it wasn't my best kiss, but it was pretty fine, and the fact that he had asked will forever make that kiss stand out in my mind, touch my heart, make me remember a kiss so tender it made me cry. — Ellen Hopkins

She spoke in a calm, soothing voice. Likely the same tone she employed to soothe her sister through a breathing crisis. Colin's pride bristled. He didn't need coddling. But he quite enjoyed the smoky, entrancing quality of her voice and her tender touch against his cheek. His pounding heart began to slow.
Eventually the white specks overhead diffused to a faint, milky glow that illuminated her features. Soft, dark calf eyes with inky lashes. Rounded cheeks and pale skin. Those lips, wet with seawater. — Tessa Dare

I do so much with these lips, I think.
I taste and touch and kiss and I've pressed them to the tender parts of his skin and I've made promises and told lies and touched lives all with these two lips and the words they form, the shapes and sounds they curve around. But right now my lips wish he would just read my mind because the truth is I've been hoping I'd never have to say any of it, these thoughts, out loud — Tahereh Mafi

He touch'd the tender stops of various quills, With eager thought warbling his Doric lay. — John Milton

I believe it is love, but how does one tell?"
Her friend's gaze grew thoughtful. "The signs are usually recognizable. When you love a man, he becomes the center of your world. You yearn to be with him, and when you are not, he is constantly on your mind. He brightens your day. His simplest touch sparks passion in you... a tender look fires a
warmth in your heart. Life feels empty without him. — Nicole Jordan

You were tender, sweet to the taste and to the touch — R.J. Hillingdon

Our lives," I whisper. "I like the sound of that. I never thought that my life could be like this. So safe and warm. All my life I've been looking for that feeling. I bought house after house but I never found it."
He lifts his hand tangling his long fingers in my hair, his expression so tender and open and warm. "Sweetheart that's love that you're describing, not a property portfolio."
I smile and touch his face. "Then I got it wrong all this time because my home is you. I should have just looked for you. — Lily Morton

The leprous corpse, touch'd by this spirit tender,
Exhales itself in flowers of gentle breath;
Like incarnations of the stars, when splendour
Is chang'd to fragrance, they illumine death
And mock the merry worm that wakes beneath;
Nought we know, dies. Shall that alone which knows
Be as a sword consum'd before the sheath
By sightless lightning? - the intense atom glows
A moment, then is quench'd in a most cold repose. — Percy Bysshe Shelley

Shall I tell her? Shall I be a kind and merciful narrator and take our girl aside? Shall I touch her new, red heart and make her understand that she is no longer one of the tribe of heartless children, nor even the owner of the wild and infant heart of thirteen-year-old girls and boys? Oh, September! Hearts, once you have them locked up in your chest, are a fantastic heap of tender and terrible wonders - but they must be trained. Beatrice could have told her all about it. A heart can learn ever so many tricks, and what sort of beast it becomes depends greatly upon whether it has been taught to sit up or to lie down, to speak or to beg, to roll over or to sound alarm, to guard or to attack, to find or to stay. But the trick most folk are so awfully fond of learning, the absolute second they've got hold of a heart, is to pretend they don't have one at all. It is the very first danger of the hearted. Shall I give fair warning, as neither you nor I was given? — Catherynne M Valente

Love creates a communion with life. Love expands us, connects us, sweetens us, ennobles us.
Love springs up in tender concern, it blossoms into caring action. It makes beauty out of all we touch. In any moment we can step beyond our small self and embrace each other as beloved parts of a whole. — Jack Kornfield

I Miss You Outside the sun is shining, and the roses are in bloom. The sky this morning is so lovely, but here I sit in gloom. Outside the birds are singing, but in here, no beauty resides. For my heart is empty, shattered and broken, and will be 'til you're back by my side. Honey, I miss you every morning, and at night when I go to bed. I remember the times you were with me, and all the things that we said. And I miss your touch; the touch that makes me feel so much a man. I miss the smell of your hair, and the softness of your hands. I miss holding you in my arms and feeling your lips on mine. I miss hearing your sweet voice, which sounds so loving and kind. But most of all, I miss your warm tender body next to me as I sleep. I feel so empty when you're not here; I lie awake all night and weep. Because without your love, my life is over and I'll spend the rest of it being blue. So please say you love me and come back; for sweetheart, I miss you. — Kenneth Edward Barnes

You heard the First Angel." His hand brushed across my forehead, his touch remarkably tender for someone who had me pinned down. "She officially ordered me to finish cuddling first." "I wouldn't call that an order so much as permission," I — Ella Summers

Even when I press against him his presence is too far away. — Johnny Rich

He had never taken a woman like Bride. One who wasn't biting and clawing at him as she demanded he please her. Something inside him relished the rarity of this.
The gentleness.
In a life where violence and territory and blood wars reigned, it was nice to have a reprieve. A tender lover's touch.
The human side of him craved this.
It craved her. - Vane — Sherrilyn Kenyon

Forever made that kiss stand out in my mind, touch my heart, make me remember a kiss so tender. — Ellen Hopkins

What matters is only what's here. I touch my skin right under my breasts, which is where the little one's curled, and where he kicks, 'cause he has to. Like, he don't feel so cosy no more. Here, can you feel it? I reckon he wants me to talk to him. He can hear me inside, for sure. He can hear every note of this silvery music.
It ripples all around him, wave after wave. I can tell that it's starting to sooth him. It's so full of joy, of delight, even if to him, it's coming across somewhat muffled. Like a dream in a dream, it's floating inside, into his soft, tender ear.
I close my eyes and hold myself, wrapping my arms real soft - around me around him - and I rock ever so gently, back and forth, back and forth, with every note of this silvery marvel. You can barely hear me - but here I am, singing along. I'm whispering words into myself, into him. — Uvi Poznansky

If I've learned anything in my life, it's that there is no darkness so absolute that it cannot be dispelled by the faintest of light," she explained.
His face softened as his eyes touched her, and his boot slid forward. "My sweet Fairy." He exhaled on a painful breath. "You can't imagine darkness. You are the only light I've ever known."
His tender words didn't match his pitiless features, but Farah still found hope. "You must believe that my light is more powerful than your darkness. And so let me touch you, instead. And everywhere that my fingers touch your flesh, they will clear away the blood and filth that you see, and will leave behind the light I've always wanted to give to you. — Kerrigan Byrne

Of course you can have a true Shadowhunter name," Will said. "You can have mine."
Tessa stared at him, all black and white against the black-and-white snow and stone. "Your name?"
Will took a step toward her, till they stood face-to-face. Then he reached to take her hand and slid off her glove, which he put into his pocket. He held her bare hand in his, his fingers curved around hers. His hand was warm and callused, and his touch made her shiver. His eyes were steady and blue; they were everything that Will was: true and tender, sharp and witty, loving and kind. "Marry me," he said. "Marry me, Tess. Marry me and be called Tessa Herondale. Or be Tessa Gray, or be whatever you wish to call yourself, but marry me and stay with me and never leave me, for I cannot bear another day of my life to go by that does not have you in it. — Cassandra Clare

love
wounds me
with soft pillows
with tender lips
and fingers — Sanober Khan

Sophie, Sophie, Sophie," he groaned, his lips moving frantically along her face until they found her mouth again. "I need you." He pressed his hips hotly against hers. "Do you feel how I need you?"
"I need you, too," she whispered. And she did. There was a fire burning within her that had been simmering quietly for years. The sight of him had ignited it anew, and his touch was like kerosene, sending her into a conflagration.
His fingers wrestled with the large, poorly made buttons on back of her dress. "I'm going to burn this," he grunted, his other hand relentlessly stroking the tender skin at the back of her knee. "I'll dress you in silks, in satins." He moved to her ear, nipping at her lobe, then licking the tender skin where her ear met her cheek. "I'll dress you in nothing at all."
-Benedict & Sophie — Julia Quinn

My love," he said with great patience, "you're hair is a rat's nest. Your eyes are swollen from weeping, your nose is red, your clothing is tattered, and you face is streaked with mud. You are still beyond passing fair, but not enough to tempt my immortal soul." He wiped a patch of mud from her delicate cheekbone. "I love you because you have a fierce heart, a brave soul, a tender touch, and woman's grace. I love you for a thousand reasons that I cant even begin to understand, when I didn't want to love you at all. I love your mind and your heart and soul, and yes, I love your pretty face as well. — Anne Stuart

Hugo has been infinitely tender with me, but while he talks of June I think of our hands locked together. She does not reach the same sexual center of my being that man reaches; she does not touch that. What, then, has she moved in me? I have wanted to possess her as if I were a man, but I have also wanted her to love me with the eyes, the hands, the senses that only women have. It is a soft and subtle penetration. — Anais Nin

Time stopped and for a few blissful moments there was nothing except Connor, intoxicating and irresistible, the taste of him, the scent of him, the raw male power of his arms, and the tender seducing touch of his lips... And then I was out of the car and gone before the power of that kiss wore off. — Ilona Andrews

I didn't promise I wouldn't break your tender heart, Mica. Protect it from me. Don't let me touch that part of you. Don't let me destroy both of us that way. — Lora Leigh

tender, thoughtful and affectionate. Men are more helped by sympathy, than by service; love is more than money, and a kind word will give more pleasure than a present."[23] If you live by yourself, you may have to get creative in finding ways to express love extravagantly. While the people at your work may look askance at you if you suddenly start handing out hugs, it's almost always appropriate to shake hands or touch a shoulder or an elbow lightly. Certainly there are people at your church who will be receptive to a hug. If not, find a different church! Those who love lavishly, extravagantly, find their souls flooded with joy. — Kay Warren

The touch was so hesitant at first, I thought for sure that he was still asleep, shifting in dreams. Liam's hand came down next to mine on the seat, his fingers inching over one at a time, hooking over mine in a way that was as tender as it was shy. I bit my lip, letting his warm, rough skin engulf mine.
His eyes were still shut and stayed that way, even as I saw him struggle to swallow. There was nothing to say now. Our linked hands rose as he guided them to rest against his chest, and they stayed there, through the song, the mountains, the cities. Until the end. — Alexandra Bracken

Can rules or tutors educate
The semigod whom we await?
He must be musical,
Tremulous, impressional,
Alive to gentle influence
Of landscape and of sky
And tender to the spirit-touch
Of man's or maiden's eye. — Ralph Waldo Emerson

He smoothed his fingers along her jawline and lifted her chin, kissing her gently, testing.
Lindsey went light-headed with the rush of sensation, the touch of his lips leaving her longing for more. Clutching his shirt in her fingers - napkin and all - she pulled him closer, melting into his kiss. Carden took it from tentative to tender, then parted her lips with the velvety sweep of his tongue. She matched his languid rhythm, hypnotized. He was all chocolate and caramel, creamy cool and sweet.
'Sinfully delicious'.
No doubt he was 31 flavors of trouble, but resisting him seemed impossible. — Tracy March

and more warriors than there were in Utentok. There was an impromptu war that broke out and Delanoa was faced with two choices. To remain in Utentok for the sake of his wife, her tender midnight touch and the passionate love making she fed him with all the time recommended as they newly got wedded and the excitement was fresh for a week's honey — Alyssa Price

Anyone can turn,Aidan. Any one of us without a lifemate. Gregori glided across the room because he could not stand the physical distance Savannah had put between them. Her eyes were once again shadowed and haunted, the memorial service filling her with sadness and guilt.He slipped behind her chair,his hands coming down on her shoulders to begin a gentle massage. He neeed the contact as much as she did.
Aidan hid his shock.He had known Gregori for centuries, had learned healing arts from him, had learned to stalk and kill the vampire from him. Nothing ever touched Gregori. Nothing. No one.But those cold silver eyes, as they swept over Savannah, were molten mercury, the man's posture clearly protective, possessive, and the touch on her shoulders was frankly tender. — Christine Feehan

It follows that a tender heart that reaches for love and understanding is often the easiest to break. Hearts that are open and trusting are usually the ones that are wounded the most. This world is filed with men and woman who have rejected the love offered to them from a heart that is gentle and tender. Those strong, hard-shelled hearts that trust no one, hearts that give so little, hearts that demand love be constantly proved, hearts that are always calculating hearts that are always manipulating and self-serving, hearts that are afraid to risk are the ones that seldom get broken. They don't get wounded, because there is nothing to wound. They are too proud and self-centered to allow anyone else to make them suffer in any way. They go about breaking other hearts and trampling on the fragile souls who touch their lives, simply because they are so thick and dull at heart themselves, and they think everyone should be just as they are. — David Wilkerson

Friends share our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand. — Henri Nouwen

I have loved people passionately whom I wouldn't have slept with for anything, but I think that's something else. That's friendship -- love, which can be a tremendously passionate emotion, and it can be tender and involve a desire to hug or whatever. But it certainly doesn't mean you want to take off your clothes with that person. But certain friendships can be erotic. Oh, I think friendship is very erotic, but it isn't necessarily sexual. I think all my relationships are erotic: I can't imagine being fond of somebody I don't want to touch or hug, so therefore there's always an erotic aspect to some extent. — Susan Sontag

She had missed him for a while, missed his warm smile and tender yet expert touch. But she had also welcomed the absence of the invisible leash which had tugged her back to Earth more often than she liked, which had whispered of duties to another and required explanations and justifications for every excursion. And eventually even the good memories had faded into the background, replaced by the thrill of new endeavors. — G.S. Jennsen

Sleep, with her tender balm, her touch so kind, Has passed me by; Afar I see her vesture, velvet-lined, Float silently; O! Sleep, my tired eyes had need of thee! Is thy sweet kiss not meant to-night for me? Peace, with the blessings that I longed for so, Has passed me by; Where'er she folds her holy wings I know All tempests die; O! Peace, my tired soul had need of thee! — E. Pauline Johnson

I could feel everything. From the tragic cellos, to the tender sounds of the piano giving awe to my touch. My body slowly swayed to the sweet feel of the air sweeping over me. I felt myself being taken away as the hearts of my fans soared with me. — Charles Lee

may my touch
always...be tender

as i would stroke
mother's cheeks
when she cried. — Sanober Khan

When thus the heart is in a vein Of tender thought, the simplest strain Can touch it with peculiar power. — Charles Lamb

Two hundred years from now, she had - I will? she thought wildly - stood in front of this portrait in the National Portrait Gallery, furiously denying the truth that it showed. Ellen MacKenzie looked out at her now as she had then; long-necked and regal, slanted eyes showing a humor that did not quite touch the tender mouth. It wasn't a mirror image, by any means; Ellen's forehead was high, narrower than Brianna's, and the chin was round, not pointed, her whole face somewhat softer and less bold in its features. But the resemblance was there, and pronounced enough to be startling; the wide cheekbones and lush red hair were the same. And around her neck was the string of pearls, gold roundels bright in the soft spring sun. — Diana Gabaldon

When we honestly ask ourselves which persons in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving much advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not-knowing, not-curing, not-healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is the friend who cares. HENRI J. M. NOUWEN — Melanie Shankle

It was not only his competence that the nuns praised, they spoke of his thoughtfulness and tenderness. Of course he could be very tender. He was at his best when you were ill; he was too intelligent to exasperate, and his touch was pleasant, cool and soothing. By some magic he seemed able by his mere presence to relieve your suffering. She knew that she would never see again in his eyes the look of affection which she had once been so used to that she found it merely exasperating. She knew now how immense was his capacity for loving; in some odd way he was pouring it out on these wretched sick who had only him to look to. She did not feel jealousy, but a sense of emptiness; it was as though a support that she had grown so accustomed to as not to realise its presence were suddenly withdrawn from her so that she swayed this way and that like a thing that was top-heavy. — W. Somerset Maugham

Rachel had a feeling there might have been a story about the procurement of the macarons, but she didn't really listen when Lauren was speaking about anything that didn't involve Jacob. She selected a red one and took a tentative bite. "Oh, God," she moaned a moment later, and thought, for the first time in she didn't know how long, of sex. She took a bigger bite. "Mother Mary." She laughed out loud. No wonder people lined up for them. It was exquisite; the raspberry flavor of the creamy center was like the barest touch of fingertips on her skin, the meringue light and tender, like eating a cloud. — Liane Moriarty

We have not long to love.
Light does not stay.
The tender things are those
we fold away.
Coarse fabrics are the ones
for common wear.
In silence I have watched you
comb your hair.
Intimate the silence,
dim and warm.
I could but did not, reach
to touch your arm.
I could, but do not, break
that which is still.
(Almost the faintest whisper
would be shrill.)
So moments pass as though
they wished to stay.
We have not long to love.
A night. A day ... — Tennessee Williams

We are all trophies of God's grace, some more dramatically than others; Jesus came for the sick and not the well, for the sinner and not the righteous. He came to redeem and transform, to make all things new. May you go forth more committed than ever to nourish the souls who you touch, those tender lives who have sustained the enormous assaults of the universe. (pp.88) — Philip Yancey

To get the stuff out of you, especially if what you're dealing with is yourself, requires you to open up and touch tender spots. You have to be anesthetized a little bit. — Paul Simon

He spoke rapidly in-between his tender kisses. I love you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. The women ... I was so scared to touch you. You didn't want me ... I couldn't take the pain. I tried to get over you. Every time with them, I was with you. I'm so sorry ... I love you. — S.C. Stephens

Love Beyond God

What if every time you woke
Your sigh was felt
By every being on Earth?

What if every time you spoke
Your words were heard
By every ear on Earth?

What if when you told a joke
You tickled the senses
Of every smile on Earth?

What if with each tender stroke
You shared your touch
With every hand on Earth?

What if when your heart broke
You tasted the tears
Running down every cheek on Earth?

No bond or brand or "guilted" yoke,
Surely this is love that reaches beyond,
That holds one to another
And every other to one.
No matter the color
Or where we're from.
This is now.
This is we.
This is Love.
This is God.
And this is love beyond God. — Adam Lawrence Dyer

A light, tender, sensitive touch is worth a ton of brawn. — Peter Thomson

Nothing like love to put blood
back in the language,
the difference between the beach and its
discrete rocks and shards, a hard
cuneiform, and the tender cursive
of waves; bone and liquid fishegg, desert
and saltmarsh, a green push
out of death. The vowels plump
again like lips or soaked fingers, and the fingers
themselves move around these
softening pebbles as around skin. The sky's
not vacant and over there but close
against your eyes, molten, so near
you can taste it. It tastes of
salt. What touches you is what you touch. — Margaret Atwood

He places a hand on the curve of my hip. His touch is tender yet possessive. "That's good enough for now. And just so you know, I'm not letting you walk away from me this time. No dogs, no assholes, no appointments. Today you're mine." I — Mia Asher

My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. — William Shakespeare

The body slows with mortal ache ,
yet my promise remains true at the closing of our days ,
A tender touch that ends with a kiss
will awaken love in joyous ways — Nicholas Sparks

The bruise on the heart which at first feels incredibly tender to the slightest touch eventually turns all the shades of the rainbow and stops aching. We forget about it. We even forget we have hearts until the next time. And then we wonder how we ever could have forgotten. We think this one is better, because, in fact, we cannot fully remember the time before. — Erica Jong

Let us remember: when we talk of the rending of the veil we are speaking in a figure, and the thought of it is poetical, almost pleasant; but in actuality there is nothing pleasant about it. In human experience that veil is made of living spiritual tissue; it is composed of the sentient, quivering stuff of which our whole beings consist, and to touch it is to touch us where we feel pain. To tear it away is to injure us, to hurt us and make us bleed. To say otherwise is to make the cross no cross and death no death at all. It is never fun to die. To rip through the dear and tender stuff of which life is made can never be anything but deeply painful. Yet that is what the cross did to Jesus and it is what the cross would do to every man to set him free. — A.W. Tozer

Sahara traced the ink with a trembling finger before she bent to press her lips to the tattoo, her touch tender, her eyes dark with emotion. "I've branded you".
"You did that a long time ago". — Nalini Singh

I've been wanting to kiss ye since the first moment I saw ye," he said. "I'm going to do it now."
Sybil could not breathe, let alone form the words to object. When she moistened her lips with her tongue, she felt his heartbeat leap beneath her palm. Her gaze fixed on his mouth as he drew her to him ever so slowly.
She had expected a sweet, teasing kiss, not this explosion of passion that seared through her body at the first touch of their lips. No one had ever kissed her like this before, as if he would die if he could not have his mouth on hers. With a will of their own, her arms wound around his neck and her fingers tangled in his long, thick hair as she pulled him closer.
She was lost in the sensations and long past thought. As his kisses slowly changed from feverish to tender, she felt as if she were floating. She wanted this to go on forever.
When Rory pulled away, she stared up at him, stunned.
"That was promising," he said with a wide grin. — Margaret Mallory

I take my metal canister of tea off the shelf. It is my own mixture of dried lavender blossoms and lemon balm, harvested from my garden and hung in the storeroom to dry. Weed helped me hang these stalks, I think. His hands touched these tender leaves, just as they touch me. — Maryrose Wood