The Taste Of Your Lips Quotes & Sayings

These books you're reading . . . I question your taste, Miss Twill."

She straightened the collar of his maroon coat. "I'll read what I please, Mr. Thane."

"I have a suggestion," he said with a wry smile, stepping away and glancing back at the sunset, which had already grown ruddier. "I have a dissertation on eighteenth-century Folding basics on interlibrary loan. It's wonderfully dry and has all its nouns capitalized. I think you'll enjoy it."

Ceony frowned. "You want me to study primitive Folding techniques?"

"Only subprimitive," he said, a smirk playing on his lips. "It never hurts to go back to basics, even if you think you know them."

"I do know them."

"Are you sure?"

Ceony paused. "Is this a hint for my test? — Charlie N. Holmberg

In a lightning-fast move, he placed both of his hands on the brick wall, caging me with his body. He leaned toward me and my heart shifted into a gear I didn't know existed. His warm breath caressed my neck, melting my frozen skin. I tilted my head, waiting for the solid warmth of his body on mine. I could see his eyes again and those dark orbs screamed hunger .
"I heard a rumor."
"What's that?" I struggled to get out.
"It's your birthday."
Terrified speaking would break the spell, I licked my suddenly dry lips and nodded.
"Happy birthday." Noah drew his lips closer to mine; that sweet musky smell overwhelmed my senses. I could almost taste his lips when he unexpectedly took a step back, inhaling deeply. The cold air slapped me into the land of sober. — Katie McGarry

You didn't think I really liked you? Do you think I really like you now?"
He turned toward her, uncertainty in his face."You did go quite a lot of effort to be having this conversation, but ... I don't want to read too much of what I hope into that."
Val stretched out beside him, resting her head in the crook of his arm. "What do you hope?"
He pulled her close, hands careful not to touch her wounds as they wrapped around her. "I hope that you feel for me as I do for you," he said, his voice like a sigh against her throat.
And how is that?" she asked, her lips so close to his jaw that she could taste the salt of his skin when she moved them.
You carried my heart in your hands tonight," he said. "But I have felt as if you carried it long before that."
She smiled and let her eyes drift closed. They lay there together, under the bridge, city lights burning outside the windows like a sky full of falling stars, as they slid off into sleep — Holly Black

Yes, I'm Daniel Tahi. I know what your lips taste like.I know you roll your eyes when you think someone is an idiot. I know that you wish you were six inches shorter because you hate being taller than most of the boys you've ever met. Your name is tattooed across my chest and written on my heart.You are a fire daughter of earth, fanua afi and I am vasa loloa,son of the ocean. I am yours ... And you can't even remember who I am. — Lani Wendt Young

Ha!' cackled the fiend, 'I expect you'd like revenge on that husband of yours. Murder shouldn't go unpunished, and no creature enjoys delivering chastisement as much as I. What about giving him a taste of his own medicine? If you'd be so kind as to lend me your body, I'll set him dancing to my tune.'

The wife's spectre grimaced and nodded, at which the wicked Likho stripped off the nightgown, then the dead woman's pliant skin, peeling back the flaccid folds. These it left in a slack heap.

It gobbled her flesh and sucked the bones clean. These it hid behind the stove, before inserting itself inside the empty, wrinkled carcass, taking the former position of the corpse. Its fat tongue swiped the last juices from around its lips.

When the husband returned home, all was as it had been; there was not a speck of blood to be seen, although the strangest smell of rotten eggs lingered — Emmanuelle De Maupassant

You who are dead ... tonight you will disport yourselves for my pleasure. Food and wine will pass between your dead lips, though you will not taste it. Your dead stomachs will hold it within you, while your dead feet take the measure of a dance. Your dead mouths will speak words that will have no meaning to you, and you will embrace one another without pleasure. You will sing for me if I wish it. You will lie down again when I will it ... Let the revelry begin. — Roger Zelazny

Some folks like trains,
some folks like ships,

I like the way you move you hips
All I want is a taste of your lips,
boy,
All I want is a taste of your lips. — Kathy Acker

You have had me spinning for days, for I am drunk off the words that flow endlessly from your deep red lips that taste of wine. — Karen Quan

Remember?" he asks. "This is where you kissed me."
So the heavy dose of morphling administered after the whipping wasn't enough to erase that from his consciousness. "I didn't think you'd remember that," I say.
"Have to be dead to forget. Maybe even not then," he tells me. "Maybe I'll be like that man in 'The Hanging Tree'. Still waiting for an answer." Gale, who I have never seen cry, has tears in his eyes. To keep them from spilling over, I reach forward and press my lips against his. We taste of heat, ashes, and misery. It's a surprising flavour for such a gentle kiss. He pulls away first and gives me a wry smile. "I knew you'd kiss me."
"How?" I say. Because I didn't know myself.
"Because I'm in pain," he says. "That's the only way I get your attention." He picks up the box. "Don't worry, Katniss. It'll pass." He leaves me before I can answer. — Suzanne Collins

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

You have a mouth made for kissing," he murmured, angling her to face him. "Did you know that?"
She shook her head.
"So soft and generous." Leaning in, he tipped her chin with the heel of his hand. "Sweet."
"No man's ever called me sweet."
"Has any other man kissed you?"
Again, she gave a little shake of the head.
"Well, then. That's why." He brushed his lips over hers, just lightly, sending pure sensation frizzing through her veins. He hummed with satisfaction. "You taste of ripe plums."
She couldn't help it. She laughed. "Now that's just absurd."
"Why?"
"Because it's too early in the year for ripe plums."
His husky chuckle shook them both. "You're entirely too logical for your own good. A thorough kissing can mend that."
"I don't want mending."
"Perhaps not. But I think you do want kissing." He nuzzled the curve of her cheek, and his voice dropped to a sensual whisper. "Don't you?"
She did. Oh, she did. — Tessa Dare

She rose on her tiptoes and brushed a slow kiss to his lips. "This doesn't have to be a relationship, okay? Just let me be your muse."
He bent to taste her again and smiled. "And I'll be your Guardian. — Lisa Kessler

I know." The two words ghosted against the skin of her neck, sending goose bumps down her spine. "But I want to touch you. I want to put my hands all over you. I want to kiss every inch of you and taste you as you come apart in my arms. I want to feel you wrapped around me with nothing but my name on your lips and the sheets a tangled mess beneath us. I want ... " He exhaled heavily into her ear. "I want. I want. I want! — Airicka Phoenix

Sometimes, when you're sad you don't know what to do, it helps to be angry. But then the tears come back again all the same, and you fall asleep with the salty taste of them on your lips. — Cornelia Funke

You've gone and sewn me to this bed,
The taste of you and me,
Will never leave my lips again,
Under the blinding rain,
I wanna hold your hand so tight,
I'm gonna break my wrist,
And when the vultures sing tonight,
I'm gonna join right in. — Pierce The Veil

Mr Willy Wonka can make marshmallows that taste of violets, and rich caramels that change colour every ten seconds as you suck them, and little feathery sweets that melt away deliciously the moment you put them between your lips. He can make chewing-gum that never loses its taste, and sugar balloons that you can blow up to enormous sizes before you pop them with a pin and gobble them up. And, by a most secret method, he can make lovely blue birds' eggs with black spots on them, and when you put one of these in your mouth, it gradually gets smaller and smaller until suddenly there is nothing left except a tiny little DARKRED sugary baby bird sitting on the tip of your tongue. — Roald Dahl

And what do you want right now?" Right now I itch to heal his wounds and forget my own.
He touches my cheek with the tips of his fingers.
My breath hitches. "Do you want to kiss me, Alex?" I whisper.
"Dios mio, I want to kiss you ... to taste your lips, your tongue." He gently traces my lips withthe tips of his fingers. "Do you want me to kiss you? Nobody else would know but the two of us. — Simone Elkeles

He caressed the side of her jaw with his fingertips, sending a light shiver down her spine. "I should warn you that if we lose the paper, we'll have to sell the house."
"That's fine."
"And the furniture."
"I don't care."
"And - "
"We can pawn, sell, and trade off everything we own ... but if you dare say one thing about my diamond, you'll regret it for the rest of your married life. This ring is mine, and it's not leaving my finger."
He grinned at her vehemence. "I wasn't going to say anything about your ring, honey." Bending down to kiss her, he left wet handprints on the waist and bodice of her gown, but Lucy was too enthralled by his hearty kiss to protest.
"You taste like coffee," she whispered when his lips left hers.
"I could do with more."
"Coffee or kisses?"
"Always more kisses ... — Lisa Kleypas

I can make you mine,
taste your lips of wine,
anytime night or day,
only trouble is,
gee wiz,
I'm dreaming my life away... — The Everly Brothers

Upon it rested a slender crystal glass filled with a thick blue liquid: shade of the evening, the wine of warlocks. "Take and drink," urged Pyat Pree. "Will it turn my lips blue?" "One draught will serve only to unstop your ears and dissolve the caul from off your eyes, so that you may hear and see the truths that will be laid before you." Dany raised the glass to her lips. The first sip tasted like ink and spoiled meat, foul, but when she swallowed it seemed to come to life within her. She could feel tendrils spreading through her chest, like fingers of fire coiling around her heart, and on her tongue was a taste like honey and anise and cream, like mother's milk and Drogo's seed, — George R R Martin

So amazingly, agonizingly sexy that it's a wonder I can get anything done when all I ever think about is the taste of your lips and the touch of your fingertips on my skin and the way your legs feel when I - — Richelle Mead

Sichuan pepper is the original Chinese pepper, used long before the more familiar black or white pepper stole in over the tortuous land routes of the old Silk Road. It is not hot to taste, like the chilli, but makes your lips cool and tingly. In Chinese they call it ma, this sensation; the same word is used for pins-and-needles and anaesthesia. The strange, fizzing effect of Sichuan pepper, paired with the heat of chillies, is one of the hallmarks of modern Sichuanese cookery. The — Fuchsia Dunlop

Loneliness is an empty space, a hole that cannot be filled. Loneliness is the weather side of the quarterdeck and a vacant captain's cabin. It's the sea when I can't look at it through your eyes. It's the wind when I can't hear it with your ears. It's salt when I can't taste it on your lips. — Ellen Argo

Tea is the tast of my land:it is bitter and warm,strong,and sharp with memory.It tastes of longing.It tastes of the distance between where you are and where you come from.Also it vanishes-the taste of it vanishes from your tongue while your lips are still hot from the cup.It disappears,like plantations stretching up into the mist.I have heard that your country drinks more tea than any other.How sad that must make you-like children who long for absent mothers.I am sorry. — Chris Cleave

There was a time," he finally said, "when I would have acknowledged your reticence and given you time and space to reach your own decision."
He tipped my head down again and slid his fingers to the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. Then he lowered his lips to my ear.
"This is not that time, Merit."
And then his mouth was on mine, and he took my breath away again. He kissed me like a man possessed, like a man with nothing more on his mind but the taste and feel of me.
Like a man returned to life. — Chloe Neill

I tasted the salt on my own lips, and the bitter taste of blood on his. It was a desperate kiss, the sort of kiss that marks a lovers' parting, a kiss of sorrow and regret and a kind of blind and wordless promise. I would have risen up when it was finished, but he held me close, his hand stroking my hair. "I'll hurt your chest," I protested, but he shook his head. "I am past pain," he lied, "and I've always had a fancy to die in my lover's arms. 'Tis most romantic. — Susanna Kearsley

Rhi looked out the windshield to the dark blue waters of the North Sea. "I can spot a liar easily, Ulrik."
"I've told you the truth."
"You've told me part of it."
"That's all there is."
She turned her head to him, and was surprised when he suddenly leaned over and kissed her. When he pulled back, she asked, "What was that for?"
"I've always wanted to know if your kiss would taste as spirited as your words, or as sweet as your walk."
"And?" she asked, unable to keep her curiosity at bay.
He licked his lips. "It's a wee bit of both."
"That's all you'll ever know," she said and teleported out. — Donna Grant

Though I love you to the core of my being, so thoroughly that every cell comprising me aches to be near you, I must accept that we can never be together. For our existence parallels the sun and the moon - a temptation in constant, beautiful view, yet if the sun were ever to kiss the moon it would devour the heavenly orb whole. Oh, my darling, if only I were the moon! Then I would dare taste your lips and be happy for my last and final joy! But alas, I am the sun, and I will not venture to destroy the one I love. — Richelle E. Goodrich

Your lips are bitter-sweet with the taste of my wine of pain. — Rabindranath Tagore

The taste of your life depends on the spices you used to brew it. Add laziness to it and it becomes bitter as the bile; put a cube of good attitudes into it and you will lick your lips more and more due to its sweet taste. — Israelmore Ayivor

His thumb caressed the scarlet surface of her cheek. "From now on, Hannah, no matter what you say or do, I'm going to look at your mouth and remember how sweet you taste." A self-mocking smile curved his lips as he added quietly, "Damn it. — Lisa Kleypas

My words are the kisses but many of the times they don't taste so good as the touch of your lips does to mine. — Santosh Kalwar

In the orchard and rose garden I long to see your face. In the taste of Sweetness I long to kiss your lips. In the shadows of passion I long for your love. — Rumi

I'd feed you the cake just to watch your lips wrap around the fork. Then I'd watch your beautiful throat muscles work swallowing the sticky sweetness, fantasizin' about smearin' chocolate frosting down your neck so I could lick it off. Slowly. And when I finished feedin' you, I'd press my mouth to yours for a thorough taste of you and the cake. — Lorelei James

Yes, the sky was now a devastating, home-cooked red. The small German town had been flung apart one more time. Snowflakes of ash fell so lovelily you were tempted to stretch out your tongue to catch them, taste them. Only, they would have scorched your lips. They would have cooked your mouth. — Markus Zusak

Didn't need to see your aura." He tapped my forehead. "You get a cute little frown there when
you've got something bothering you."
"Not everything about me is cute."
"That's true. Some things are cute. The rest are sexy." His voice was low as he leaned toward
me. "So amazingly, agonizingly sexy that it's a wonder I can get anything done when all I ever think
about is the taste of your lips and the touch of your fingertips on my skin and the way your legs feel
when I - "
"Adrian," I interrupted.
His eyes smoldered. "Yes?"
"Shut up. — Richelle Mead

They were kissing again, carefully at first, learning the shape and texture of each other's lips, testing the sharpness of the teeth behind them.
It's too fast, said a panicky voice in his mind. And too dangerous. He'll drink your juices, taste your brain, crack your soul open like an egg!
Hell, I think I want him to do all that. — Poppy Z. Brite

Caitlin." Hawkins touched her cheek. "That wasn't quite what I had in mind." "Oh, for heaven's sake," she burst out, "do you not see how silly you're being?" "It's only silly if you continue to shy from me like a maiden. You're the MacBride. You've done worse than kiss an Englishman." His hands held her fast at the arms, and he bent to whisper in her ear. "I won the forfeit." His breath caressed the curve of her ear. "I want to feel the fullness of your lips with my own. I want to slide them open with my tongue and taste the sweetness of your mouth. I want to feel your body pressed to - " Summoning the last of her composure, she said, "You've made your point." His hands lifted to her shoulders. "Well? I'm waiting. — Susan Wiggs

She hated Mr. Meanie. But she'd gotten to know him and they'd reached an understanding of sorts. Now she was to have him for supper.
"Don't tell me you're feeling guilty?"
Breaking off a piece of the wing, she brought it to her lips and took a bite. It did taste good. Very good.
"I wonder if all grouchy males are this palatable."
Drew choked.
She looked up, tilting her head.
"Are you all right?"
He turned a dull red.
"Eat your supper, Connie. — Deeanne Gist

Don't talk to me like that," she squeaked. "Like what, baby? Talk like a man who appreciates what he sees? A man who remembers how it felt to kiss your full lips? To touch your body? I might have been drunk that night, but I've had years to remember. Years of lonely nights dreaming of your ivory skin against mine. The scent of you. The taste ... — Eve Langlais

He can still taste you on his lips, smell your scent in his memory, remember when you smiled just for him, and the thought of never having that again is ... harrowing. So, he's willing to hurt you because he's focusing on the pain to try to kill everything that you were to him ... so that he can survive it. — Amy A. Bartol

Take me from this earth
an endless night-
this, the end of life.
From the dark I feel your lips
and taste your bloody kiss. — Anne Rice

I am like a little child naked in a strong wind. I have a fever, I shiver, I'm too hot or too cold. My lips retain the unusual fruity taste of your mouth, & the bitter taste of your saliva lingers on my tongue, making me find everything I eat bland, sickening since nothing is as good as your love. — Rachilde

Of all the unchristian beverages that ever passed my lips, Turkish coffee is the worst. The cup is small, it is smeared with grounds; the coffee is black, thick, unsavory of smell, and execrable in taste. The bottom of the cup has a muddy sediment in it half an inch deep. This goes down your throat, and portions of it lodge by the way, and produce a tickling aggravation that keeps you barking and coughing for an hour. — Mark Twain

And you will spend the rest of your life wondering if I have disciples to avenge me. Hire your tasters, Burbesh. Until the Master of the Sleeps comes for you, you'll never know a taste of anything that has not touched another's lips first. You'll never sleep in a bed that has not been first tossed for vipers. You'll never sit in a chair that has not been tested for poisoned barbs in its cushions. You shall never see a bath drawn for you that you will not at first fear is acid. And you'll never have another dream where my face is not grinning at you from the shadows." -- From "Morality for Alchemists and Thieves — L. Joseph Shosty