Way You Touch Me Quotes & Sayings

O God and King, please expand my opportunities and my impact in such a way that I touch more lives for Your glory. Let me do more for You! — Bruce H. Wilkinson

I'm too caught up in this ... pretend life I'm so completely submersed in. And you know what? I like it. I love it. Even though I know deep down inside, it's fake. That the way you talk to me, look at me, touch me. Kiss me ... is all for show. I'm some sort of protection for you but I don't care. I want it.
I want you. — Monica Murphy

Come to me, cara mia,come to me.You are mine.No one else will ever do for you.You want me with you. You need me.Feel the emptiness without me.
Julian was implacable in his pursuit. He ruthlessly applied more pressure. Find me.Know that you are mine. You cannot bear another's touch, cara mia.You need me with you to fill the terrible emptiness.You are no longer happy and content without me. You must find me.
He sent the imperious command, his entire focus bent on finding her mental channel. He did not stop until he was certain he had connected with her, that his words had penetrated any barriers separating them and found their way to her soul. — Christine Feehan

I'm Free "

Don't grieve for me, for now I'm free.
I'm following the path God laid for me.
I took God's hand when I heard the call;

I turned my back and left it all.
I could not stay another day

To laugh, to love, to work or play.

Tasks left undone must stay that way,
I found that place at the close of day.
If my parting has left a void,

Then fill it with remembered joy.

A friendship shared, a laugh, a kiss.
Ah, yes, these things, I too, will miss.
Be not burdened with times of sorrow,

I wish you the sunshine of tomorrow.
My life's been full, I savored much,

Good friends, good times, a loved one's touch.
Perhaps my time seemed all too brief;

don't lengthen it now with undue grief.
Lift up your heart and share with me,
God wanted me now, God set me free. — Harold S. Kushner

But don't you dare think for one second that I don't remember every single touch and feeling I had with you. I remember the way every inch of you felt under my fingers. I remember the way your skin tasted, and I sure as hell didn't forget the way I fit inside you so damn perfectly. It literally makes me ache at the loss. — Kimberly Lauren

I buy 1920s iridescent Scottish glass. I love the way the sun hits it every morning. You touch something and you know. To me, people should buy something they love. Buy something you'd want to come downstairs and stroke. — Judith Miller

I watched you wake up and try to wake me up too. I could still feel you touch my face and my cheek. I liked the way you brushed my hair back with your hand. I liked the way held onto my hands with your hands. They must have felt a little cold and a little wet but they started to feel warm again when you held onto them. I want you to know that I stayed there with you and held onto you too. — Michael Kimball

I'd like to return to prose after a fifteen-year hiatus. An epistolary novella maybe. A man went into the mountains fifteen years ago to write the following letter to a woman: "Dear B., I'd like to strike you down with an iron rod. Maybe I love you. If you feel the same way and your wishes conform to mine, then please please get in touch with me posthaste. We'll discuss this matter together and make the necessary arrangements if everything works out. With warm wishes, Your Bernd." The letter is, however, never mailed and never written. In further letters to B. from Bernd, he pursues, among other things, the question: why? The last letter could be the one in which Bernd lets B. know that the matter has been settled since he has just been struck down by a group of women with iron rods. — Urs Allemann

There isn't going to be a next time. I mean it, Alan," she said jerkily as he traced a line down the back of her hand with his fingertip. "I wouldn't be here if you hadn't locked me out of my house. Don't touch me that way," she added in a furious undertone.
"How would you like me to touch you? You have very sensitive hands," he murmured before she could answer. He grazed a thumb over her knuckle and felt the quick tremor. Tonight, he promised himself, he was going to feel that tremor again-at every pulse point. "How many times did you think of me this week? — Nora Roberts

You can either hold me up by my ass or we can put pillows under my hips to raise them."
"Let's go for the pillows."
"You think I'm too heavy to lift?" she asked with a wicked gleam in her eyes.
"No, I just want my hands free to play with your boobs."
"Good point. THIs position is supposed to help the man 'give the clit the attention it deserves'. That's me quoting the book, by the way."
"I like this book. It's nice and friendly and tells me to touch your clit. I appreciate that."
"So does my clit. Ready?"
Ben glanced down. HE was more than ready.
"God, yes."
"Alright," Beatriz said. "Let's do it. — Tiffany Reisz

The mountains hugged each other sternly, similar to the way men hugged other men, not letting their chests touch. Thin clouds hung around their necks, and the mountains farthest away, the ones passed out against the horizon, were so pale, you couldn't see where their backs ended and the sky began.
The view made me sad, but I suppose everyone, when happening upon a sprawling expanse of earth, all light and mist, all breathlessness and infinity, felt sad - "the enduring gloom of man," Dad called it. — Marisha Pessl

I AM YOUR STRENGTH AND SHIELD. I plan out each day and have it ready for you, long before you arise from bed. I also provide the strength you need each step of the way. Instead of assessing your energy level and wondering about what's on the road ahead, concentrate on staying in touch with Me. My Power flows freely into you through our open communication. Refuse to waste energy worrying, and you will have strength to spare. — Sarah Young

My phone buzzes. It's from Karou: a list of conversation openers that I won't be needing. - a) Hi. I'm Zuzana. I'm actually a marionette brought to life by the Blue Fairy, and the only way I can gain a soul is if a human falls in love with me. Help a puppet out? - b) Hi. I'm Zuzana. The touch of my lips imparts immortality. Just sayin'. - c) Hi. I'm Zuzana. I think I might like you. — Laini Taylor

He couldn't help it. The need to soothe and touch her was overwhelming. He lifted his hand to trace the delicate curve of her cheek. "You're with me so you're in the perfect place. And by the way, you're beautiful - inside and out."
She gave him an uncertain smile. "You could have said that in front of my cousin, you know? It would have killed her."
"I'm saying it now."
"But nobody's here to hear it," she said with a nervous catch of laughter.
"You're here," he said huskily. — Jennifer Shirk

If you ever land in a situation you can't handle, call me." She let out a raspy laugh. "And you'll what? Ride in on your white horse and save me? From Afghanistan? Or Iraq? Or wherever else they're sending recently enlisted marines these days?" "Call, email, or send a letter. Hell, send a carrier pigeon. I don't care how you get in touch, or where I am. If you need me, I'll find a way to help. It doesn't matter where I am or what I'm doing. You're like family to me, Josie. And I'm always here for you." "Like family?" She raised an eyebrow. "So you're doing this for Dominic? Because my brother is your BFF?" "No, I'm doing this because I care about you," he growled. She — Sara Jane Stone

This is the swamp as I see it, but what I can't capture on canvas is you as I see you. No brush or paint will ever show the hero that you are. It will never be able to portray the sound of your voice when you whisper my name. The way my skin tingles when you touch me. The passion of you inside me. I love you, Talon. I know that I can't keep you. No one can ever tame a wild beast. You have a job to do and so do I. I only hope that when you think of me, it'll bring a smile to your face. Love always, Sunshine. (Sunshine's note) — Sherrilyn Kenyon

I think we need to be put back in touch with our childhood ... to be reminded of what's important, like memories about people we loved, or things that happened to us that affected our lives, things we can laugh about and shed a few tears about ... I think storytelling is a way of saying 'I love you. I love you enough to tell you something that means a great deal to me.' — Kathryn Tucker Windham

Take the Long Way Home is a song that I wrote that's on two levels - on one level I'm talking about not wanting to go home to the wife, 'take the long way home' because she treats you like part of the furniture. But there's a deeper level to the song, too. I really believe we all want to find our true home, find that place in us where we feel at home, and to me, home is in the heart. When we're in touch with our heart and we're living our life from our heart, then we do feel like we found our home. — Roger Hodgson

I do not know, not do I care to remember
The time in which I knew distinctly that you were gone
You fade in and out of memory
Upon which I can not feign to touch
Or feel
How cruel to leave me
With paper but no pen
What a way to leave me
You give me cups, but not water to fill them
So they sit there
Empty
Your reflection
Bouncing to and fro
From every surface — Queenbe Monyei

Reading all my old love letters was disorienting. You remember thinking the thoughts and writing the words but, man, you can't TOUCH those feelings. Its like they belonged to someone else. Someone you don't even know. I'm aware, in an intellectual way. That I felt all those things about him, but this emotions are far away now.
What's so strange to me is that I can't even force my heart back to that place where I felt that all consuming passion. That makes me feel distant from myself. Who WAS I then? Will I ever be able to get back to that place? Reading the letters again made me wonder: Which is the real me? The one who saw the world in that emotionally saturated way, or the me who sees it the way I do now? — Bill Shapiro

Hope? I don't need your strength
anymore.

Because this morning, I stood on my roof
as the sun chiseled its way into every single pore of my
body, and I realized that I am

made of flames, that if you touch me,
you will burn - that I am the only match I need

to burn. — Shinji Moon

It sounds silly, I know. But for me, the power of music rests in its ability to reach inside and touch the places where the deepest cuts lie.
Like a benevolent god, a good song will never let you down.
And sometimes, when you're trying to find your way, one of those gods actually shows up and gives you directions. — Tiffanie DeBartolo

I thought I would love you forever - and, a little, I may,
in the way I still move toward a crate, knees bent,
or reach for a man: as one might stretch
for the three or four fruit that lie in the sun at the top
of the tree; too ripe for any moment but this,
they open their skin at first touch, yielding sweetness,
sweetness and heat, and in me, each time since,
the answering yes. — Jane Hirshfield

I see the way you look at me. I feel the way you touch me. I hear the hidden messages in your voice. Unlike you, I've been blessed knowing the warmth that comes with love. The way a person's eyes glow and body softens. You love me! And if you can stand there and deny it - when it's so blatantly obvious - then there really is no hope for us. You might as well march me outside and complete the Final Debt, because I'd rather you kill me quickly than live through this endless death!-Nila — Pepper Winters

I am the woman at the water's edge,
offering you oranges for the peeling,
knife glistening in the sun.
This is the scent and taste
of my skin: citon and sweet.
Touch me and your life will unfold
before you, easily as this skirt
billows then sinks,
lapping against my legs, my toes
filtering through the rivers silt.
Following the current out to sea,
I am the kind of woman
who will come back to haunt
your dreams, move through your
humid nights the way honey
swirls through a cup of hot tea — Shara McCallum

You don't need to like me to fuck me," he said. "You just need to like fucking me." He stepped closer, letting his forehead touch mine. "And from the way you still come every time we meet up, it's clear you still like that. — Whitney G.

He turned his head to look at her, trying to think of ways to plead his case. Some way to dazzle and beguile her and make her glad that it was him she was here with. Something witty and persuasive, but she turned at precisely the same moment he did, with invitation in her eyes, and all he could come up with was, "Damn, I really want to kiss you."

Her hesitation was a mere fraction of a second. "Me too," she whispered.

It was all he needed to hear, and in an instant she was in his arms. He kissed her, hard, with no prelude, no artful negotiations or seductive machinations. Just hungry kisses that sent his mind spinning and his body following. She kissed him back with equal enthusiasm, with one hand on his chest and the other wrapped tightly around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Her mouth was sweet, as sweet as he'd imagined, with lips so soft he could have fallen over the edge of that lighthouse and thought the sensation was just from her touch. — Tracy Brogan

No, screw that. I've had nice guys. I've dated and taken my time before ending up in bed with them."
Silver's skin prickled with gooseflesh.
Zeb's hands moved onto Silver's shoulders, intensifying the charge racing through his body. "None of them made me crazy. None of them made me feel like I couldn't breathe right until we kissed. None of them made my whole body hum with the need to touch. You do." Zeb's grip shifted to Silver's forearms and pulled him to his feet. "You turned my life upside down, and I couldn't put it back together in any way that made sense without you. — K.A. Mitchell

We get a little further from perfection,
each year on the road,
I guess that's what they call character,
I guess that's just the way it goes,
better to be dusty than polished,
like some store window mannequin,
why don't you touch me where i'm rusty,
let me stain your hands — Ani DiFranco

I came to feel a tenderness for them all. This was something new to me. It gave me a curious pleasure to touch them, to help them in and out of the chair, to shave their weather-toughened old faces. They had known hard use, nearly all of them. You could tell it by the way they held themselves and moved. Most of all you could tell it by their hands, which were shaped by wear and often by the twists and swellings of arthritis. They had used their hands forgetfully, as hooks and pliers and hammers, and in every kind of weather. The backs of their hands showed a network of little scars where they had been cut, nicked, thornstuck, pinched, punctured, scraped, and burned. Their faces told that they had suffered things they did not talk about.Every one of them had a good knife in his pocket, sharp, the blades whetted narrow and concave, the horn of the handle worn smooth. — Wendell Berry

Often I lose myself in the constellation of my own ideas, forever searching for point of illumination. But no matter where I look, I find you, shinning and bright, offering me what ever it is I seek, you are my one single star. My sun, my moon, my guide and direction, I know as long as I have you, I'll never lose my way. Even if I can not touch you, I know I will see you, feel you, from anywhere. If I need you I know where to find you — Vaddey Ratner

Words got in the way. The things we felt the hardest
like what it was like to have a boy touch you as if you were made of light, or what it meant to be the only person in the room who wasn't noticed
weren't sentences; they were knots in the wood of our bodies, places where our blood flowed backward. If you asked me, not that anyone ever did, the only words worth saying were I'm sorry. — Jodi Picoult

I think I'm not in this work to not look at life as it is. I'm not in it to say, "I want to wear a mask and escape," you know. I want to know what's happening in the world, and I want to have it touch me in a way that I can do something, my little part like that, and have it somehow translate. — Jake Gyllenhaal

I catch sight of Luis with one of my bandannas on his head and my gut tightens. I yank it off him. "Don't ever touch this, Luis."
"Why not?" he asks, his deep brown eyes all innocent.
To Luis, it's a bandanna. To me, it's a symbol of what is and will never be. How the hell am I supposed to explain it to an eleven-year-old kid? He knows what I am. It's no secret the bandanna has the Latino Blood colors on it. Payback and revenge got me in and now there's no way out. But I'll die before I let one of my brothers get sucked in.
I ball the bandanna in my fist. "Luis, don't touch my shit. Especially my Blood stuff."
"I like red and black."
That's the last thing I need to hear. "If I ever catch you wearin' it again, you'll be sportin' black and blue," I tell him. "Got it, little brother?"
He shrugs. "Yeah. I got it. — Simone Elkeles

Come home with me."
This time I did laugh. "No"
"Come to my car."
"No. There is no way I'm leaving this club with you."
He bent and pressed a small, careful kiss to my shoulder before telling me, "But I want to touch you. — Christina Lauren

I want to wake up with you every morning and fall asleep beside you each night," Patch told me gravely. "I want to take care of you, cherish you, and love you in a way no other man ever could. I want to spoil you - every kiss, every touch, every thought, they all belong to you. I'll make you happy. Every day, I'll make you happy. — Becca Fitzpatrick

Juliette!" His voice is tighter, higher, laced with anger and terror and denial and betrayal. Realization is a new piece in his puzzled mind.
"He can touch you?"
"Goddamit, Juliette, answer me!" Warner is writhing on the floor, unhinged in a way I never thought possible. He looks wild, his eyes disbelieving, horrified. "Has he touched you? — Tahereh Mafi

I want to tell you something." He placed her palm against her cheek, rough with stubble. "In my life, I've been with women I didn't care about and women I cared a great deal about. But I've never been with a woman who makes me feel the way you do." He lowered his head and whispered against her lips, "Sometimes when I look at you, it's hard to breath. When you touch me, I don't care about breathing." He kissed her slow and sweet, and with each press of his lips and touch of his tongue, her heart swelled and ached. It was wonderful and awful and brand-new. Then he pulled back to say, "I don't know how this is all going to work out, but I want to be with you. You are important to me. — Rachel Gibson

I'm trying to decide whether to tell you two to get a room or go barf in the trash can," Emma said. "I'm leaning toward the second choice. You are both getting way too weird. And gross."
Cal barked out a laugh and slid his fingers down my arm to entwine with mine. His touch, and Emma's comments, only made me blush more. Looks like Emma saw Cal lick my face after all.
Now that wasn't awkward or anything. — E.J. Stevens

What I recall is this: this native people he lived with, deep in the jungle - their language had dozens of words for rain. Because it was so common to them, you see. Where they lived, it rained almost constantly. Several times a day. So they had words for light rain, and heavy rain, and pounding rain. Something like eighteen different terms for storms, and a whole classification system for mist."
"Why are you telling me this?"
His touch skimmed lightly down her arm. "Because I'm standing here, wanting to give you fitting compliment, but my paltry vocabulary fails me. I think what I need is a scientific excursion. I need to venture deep into some jungle where beauty takes the place of rain. Where loveliness itself falls from the sky at regular intervals. Dots every surface, saturates the ground, hangs like vapor in the air. Because the way you look right now ... " His gaze cought hers in the reflection. "They'd have a word for it there. — Tessa Dare

Did you enjoy that?"

His eyes narrow and now he's frowning, like he's not entirely sure he understands the question. "Did I enjoy eating your pussy? Wasn't it obvious?"

"Just answer the question."

"I could eat that pussy for hours and never get tired of the way you taste," Daniel tells me, and his fingers skim up my spine again. "Love your honey on my tongue and the way you shiver when I touch your clit. So, yeah, I fucking loved it. — Jessica Clare

And that is when I know ... that is when I understand that it's better to feel the ache inside me like demons scratching at my heart than it is to feel numb the way a dead body feels when you touch it. It's better to wait for the beautiful things ... to stare at them for as long as they last..to hold on as tight as you can before they disappear. And it might hurt so bad inside ... but it's better to wait for the next beautiful thing than never look for any again. — Brian James

The first time I opened one I felt indecent. I love the feel of a book. I love the touch and smell and sound of the pages. I love the handling. A book is a sensual thing. You sit curled in a chair with it or like me you take it to bed and it's, well, enveloping. Weird I am. I know. What the Hell? as Bobby Bowe says to everything. You either get it or you don't. When my father first took me to Ennis Library I went down among the shelves and felt company, not only the company of the writers, but the readers too, because they had lifted and opened and read these books. The books were worn in a way they can only get worn by hands and eyes and minds; these were the literal original Facebooks, the books where faces had been, and I just loved it, the whole strange sense of being aboard a readership. — Niall Williams

He's looking for people who are hot after His heart. He wants a Church of Davids who are after His own heart3 (not just His hand). You can seek for His blessing and play with His toys, or you can say, "No, Daddy, I don't just want the blessings; I want You. I want You to come close. I want You to touch my eyes, touch my heart, touch my ears, and change me, Lord. I'm tired of me the way I am, because if I can change, then the cities can change too. — Tommy Tenney

But the truth is that I had never wanted him to kiss me, not in the way you are supposed to want these things. I mean, he was gorgeous. I was attracted to him. I thought about him in that way, to borrow a phrase from the middle school vernacular. But the actual touch, the realized touch ... it was all wrong. — John Green

I don't know when love became elusive
what i know, is that no one i know has it
my fathers arms around my mothers neck
fruit too ripe to eat, a door half way open
when your name is a just a hand i can never hold
everything i have ever believed in, becomes magic.
i think of lovers as trees, growing to and
from one another searching for the same light,
my mothers laughter in a dark room,
a photograph greying under my touch,
this is all i know how to do, carry loss around until
i begin to resemble every bad memory,
every terrible fear,
every nightmare anyone has ever had.
i ask did you ever love me?
you say of course, of course so quickly
that you sound like someone else
i ask are you made of steel? are you made of iron?
you cry on the phone, my stomach hurts
i let you leave, i need someone who knows how to stay. — Warsan Shire

Leandred is insanely useful - never tell him I said that. he made enough for all of us, and helped imbue them with the spells. We included some of your magic, too. You know Leandred has a ton of it, right?" She frowned at me, but it wasn't nearly as frowny as it used to be when aimed at Constantine.
"You're going soft." I smiled.
"No, I just agree with Axer Dare - Leandred's motives are transparent at this point. Leandred would burn the world for you."
"It's not like that," I said automatically.
"No. It's way worse," she said frankly. "You are like the sole family gold nugget and the crystal on the pedestal and all the frankincense in the factory. He'd never touch you. And the world will burn if someone intent on harm does. — Anne Zoelle

Somewhere someone is thinking of you. Someone is calling you an angel. This person is using celestial colors to paint your image. Someone is making you into a vision so beautiful that it can only live in the mind. Someone is thinking of the way your breath escapes your lips when you are touched. How your eyes close and your jaw tightens with concentration as you give pleasure a home. These thoughts are saving a life somewhere right now. In some airless apartment on a dark, urine stained, whore lined street, someone is calling out to you silently and you are answering without even being there. So crystalline. So pure. Such life saving power when you smile. You will never know how you have cauterized my wounds. So sad that we will never touch. How it hurts me to know that I will never be able to give you everything I have — Henry Rollins

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

If anyone were to find out - " I began.
Patch kissed me, hard, but with an amused glint in his eye. "If I get caught, it'll mean the end of kissing you. Do you really think I'd risk that?" His face grew serious. "I know I can't feel your touch, but I feel your love, Nora. Inside me. It means everything to me. I wish I could feel you the same way you feel me, but I have your love. Nothing will ever outweigh that. Some people go their entire lives never feeling the emotions you've given me. There is no regret in that. — Becca Fitzpatrick

I have no words for you, Rook Walsh." "Try," I whisper back as I stare hungrily into his eyes. He brings his palms to my face and tilts my chin. "I could describe what you look like, but that's not what I see. You are so much more than a body inside a dress, Rook. You fit me. When I saw you crouching in that stairwell last week I felt like I knew you. You stopped me dead in my tracks, you wiped my mind. And I reached out to touch you that day because I couldn't resist. I needed to do it and I plan on touching you all night, on the way there in the car, through dinner, as we walk around the zoo and do whatever the hell it is they do at a nighttime fundraiser, and all the way home. — J.A. Huss

I wanted to tell her how I truly loathed cell phones. I hated the way they made me feel reachable twenty-four hours a day; it was akin to having a chip implanted in your brain that tracked your location and told you what to think and do until, finally, you became completely obsessed with the tiny touch screen as the sole interface between your existence and the real world. — Penny Reid

Are you there, God? It's me, Layla. I know I just jerked off some guy who is not even my boyfriend in the bathroom of this crappy, brown house. But if you could find a way to kill me quickly and painlessly within the next ten seconds, I promise to never touch another penis again. Well, I'll be dead, so, I guess I promise not to whore it up in heaven. Which, of course is where you'll be sending me, right? I mean I'd hate to think you'd deny me an eternity behind your pearly gates just because of one impetuous handjob. Thank you. Sincerely, Layla Warren. Amen. — T. Torrest

What think you? Can beauty be taken from a man? If he could not touch, taste, smell, hear, see ... what if all he knew was pain? Has that man had beauty taken from him?"
"I ... " What did this have to do with anything? "Does the pain change day by day?"
"Let us say it does," the messenger said.
"Then beauty, to that person, would be the times when the pain lessens. Why are you telling me this story?"
The messenger smiled. "To be human is to seek beauty, Shallan. Do not despair, do not end the hunt because thorns grow in your way. Tell me, what is the most beautiful thing you can imagine?"
...
"I see," the messenger said softly. "You do not yet understand the nature of lies. I had that trouble myself, long ago. The Shards here are very strict. You will have to see the truth, child, before you can expand upon it. Just as a man should know the law before he breaks it. — Brandon Sanderson

I AM RAPHAEL, ONE OF THE SEVEN ARCHANGELS WHO PASS IN and out of the presence of the Holy One, blessed be he. I bring him the prayers of all who pray and of those who don't even know that they're praying. Some prayers I hold out as far from me as my arm will reach, the way a woman holds a dead mouse by the tail when she removes it from the kitchen. Some, like flowers, are almost too beautiful to touch, and others so aflame that I'd be afraid of their setting me on fire if I weren't already more like fire than I am like anything else. There are prayers of such power that you might almost say they carry me rather than the other way round - the way a bird with outstretched wings is carried higher and higher on the back of the wind. There are prayers so apologetic and shamefaced and halfhearted that they all but melt away in my grasp like sad little flakes of snow. Some prayers are very boring. — Frederick Buechner

My public Facebook page is what it is. My Twitter account is sort of what it is, but if I'm totally honest with you, that is not my personal, private self. I have another Facebook page that is devoted to my dear friends and family, and they can keep in touch with me that way. — Tim Daly

what's the most horrible experience you can imagine? To me - it's being left, unarmed, in a sealed cell with a drooling beast of prey or a maniac who's had some disease that's eaten his brain out. You'd have nothing then but your voice - your voice and your thought. You'd scream to that creature why it should not touch you, you'd have the most eloquent words, the unanswerable words, you'd become the vessel of the absolute truth. And you'd see living eyes watching you and you'd know that the thing can't hear you, that it can't be reached, not reached, not in any way, yet it's breathing and moving there before you with a purpose of its own. That's horror. Well, that's what's hanging over the world, prowling somewhere through mankind, that same thing, something closed, mindless, utterly wanton, but something with an aim and a cunning of its own. — Ayn Rand

I didn't hear you," I spoke directly into his ear, hoping my voice was husky and alluring, but most likely wind-whipped and warbled.
"I said, when I kiss you, I want you to be completely wrapped up in my touch." He paused before adding, "The way you touched Nikolai last night wasn't something I wanted to see. It was hot and sexy, and I don't know where I stand." Slowing down, he muttered, "When I kiss you, I want to see desire blaze in your eyes. I want you to need me to kiss you so much you have no choice but to yield. — Jade Hart

He is totally dreamy Grace. You see that don't you?" Sarah gave me more Caylie learned lingo.
"Oh, don't I know. I just don't want anyone else dreaming about him."
"He's far from ugly Grace. He's gorgeous." I gave her a glare. She kept on, "I will tell you this because you are my friend. He is so gorgeous every girl in this court has fantasized about him, including me. But you don't see the way we see him look at you. The way he stops everything when you come in the room. They way his eyes pop when you speak the first time to him when you approach. It's how he breathes too Grace. He seems to hold his breath until you are close enough for him to touch. He is completely and utterly in love with you girl. — Cyndi Goodgame

I'm sorry you got dragged into this." He waved a hand to indicate he meant the house, the entire situation. "Having to stay here, with me, when you should be home with your family." A pang of homesickness hit her as she thought of her parents and how disappointed they'd been that her leave had been "cancelled". That wasn't his fault though.
To ease his concern, she put on a smile. "Yeah, but hey, I could've done way worse in terms of roommates." She gave his leg a playful nudge with her hand.
His eyes warmed at her words and touch. The firelight brought out the deep bronze undertones in his hair, flickering in tones of gold and orange. She wanted to run her fingers through it to find out if it was as soft as it looked.
He shook his head slightly at her, looking amused. "Why'd you have to be so sweet?"
She shrugged and countered, "Why'd you have to be so damned good looking? — Kaylea Cross

He loves me, he doesn't love my bowels, if they showed him my appendix in a glass he wouldn't recognize it, he's always feeling me, but if they put the glass in his hands he wouldn't touch it, he wouldn't think, "that's hers," you ought to love all of somebody, the esophagus, the liver, the intestines. Maybe we don't love them because we aren't used to them, but if we saw them the way we saw our hands and arms maybe we'd love them; the starfish must love each other better than we do. — Jean-Paul Sartre

You are, however, surprisingly light of touch."
"Pardon?"
"The way you're holding my hand. I always thought you'd be more of a mauler. Like a diseased wolf chewing the knuckles off me fist."
"That's very nice."
"Not really."
"I was being sarcastic."
"Oh. I see. Where are we? — G.A. Aiken

Bending his head, Kai pressed his lips to her knuckles. The plating had no nerve endings, and yet the touch sent a tingle of electricity along her arm.
"Cinder?"
"Mm?"
He lifted his gaze. "Just to be clear, you're not using your mind powers on me right now, are you?"
She blinked. "Of course not."
"Just checking."
Then he slid his arms around her waist and kissed her.
Cinder gasped, pressing her palms against his chest. Kai pulled her closer.
Seconds later, her brain began registering all the new chemicals flooding her system. INCREASED LEVELS OF DOPAMINE AND ENDORPHINS, REDUCED AMOUNTS OF CORTISOL, ERRATIC PULSE, RISING BLOOD PRESSURE ...
Leaning into him, Cinder sent the messages away. Her hands tentatively made their way to his shoulders, before stringing around his neck. — Marissa Meyer

A couple of minutes later I was surprised when the figure that came back was ... not him. It was Arianna, holding something bulky draped over her arm.
She opened my door, and I got out. "Where's Lend? I'm supposed to wait for him."
"Nope." She smiled bigger than I'd ever seen her smile before, and suddenly I was a touch nervous. What if she was working with Nona and the faeries? "You were waiting for me. Now, strip."
"I - What?"
"You heard me. Strip. Take off your coat, shirt, and pants. You can leave your bra, for all the good it does you."
I noticed then that the bulky thing over her arm was a garment bag. Aha! "Ar, listen, I don't feel that way about you. You're not my type."
"Oh, shut up, take your clothes off, and close your eyes."
"Again, not something I was hoping to hear from you tonight."
Her smile was replaced by an annoyed scowl. "DO IT NOW. — Kiersten White

A Paradise for you and me
Trust, true love to guide us free
Loneliness shall not fill the day
I will forever be with you
Our Love is beautiful like the sunshine lighting the way
Your gentle feel
Your caring hands
There is no doubt in your soul
No eerie place in your heart to express this feeling
Our compassion flows in the waves just to save and brighten my day My heart has no hoes Awaiting your pace
to touch this place
Our love, withstanding all odds Diminishing hate, in our thoughts There is no place I rather be til eternity... Than in your soul, life and in your dreams... I am here to stay with you forever. — Henry Johnson Jr

You're not gonna touch or kiss me for a week are you?" I said, letting him know I knew what he was doing.
He turned to look at me poignantly.
"Absolutely not."
"We'll see about that," I countered.
"You need time to heal-"
"Oh no. I'm going this way and not listening." I pointed toward the commons room. "In my book, you just issued me a challenge, buster. And I accept. — Shelly Crane

I don't call people for help. It's not because of the way I was raised, at least I don't think so; it's the
way I was made. Johanna once said that if I was drowning at Dark Score Lake, where we have a summer home, I would die silently fifty feet out from the public beach rather than yell for help. It's
not a question of love or affection. I can give those and I can take them. I feel pain like anyone else.
I need to touch and be touched. But if someone asks me, 'Are you all right?' I can't answer no. I
can't say help me. — Stephen King

24 Along the way at a [resting-] place, the Lord met [Moses] and sought to kill him [made him acutely and almost fatally ill]. 25 [Now apparently he had failed to circumcise one of his sons, his wife being opposed to it; but seeing his life in such danger] Zipporah took a flint knife and cut off the foreskin of her son and cast it to touch [Moses'] feet, and said, Surely a husband of blood you are to me! 26 When He let [Moses] alone [to recover], Zipporah said, A husband of blood are you — Anonymous

He was talking. I tried not to think of how he looked and instead of what he was telling me. Once I accomplished that, my brain couldn't get past the 'running' part.
"I don't run." I walked the mile run at school. True story.
I abhorred any kind of physical exercise. I wasn't good at it. I was skinny, but I was soft; had absolutely no muscle mass at all. That's the way I liked it. Who was he to try to change that, change me? I wouldn't let him. No way, no how.
One half of his mouth lifted. He seemed to be enjoying this a little too much. "You do now. You have to be fit, you have to be strong, Taryn, if you're to stand any chance of surviving this. Come on, we'll start with stretching."
He forced me to twist my body into unimaginable positions. I even had to touch my toes. The agony. Luke took pleasure from my pain; even laughing as I moaned and groaned through it all.
Then, the worst came about. He. Made. Me. Run. — Lindy Zart

Why are you looking at me like that?' he asked, his hand tensing for a second on my hip.
"No reason.' I moved my hand up his chest and on the way his abs contracted.
He pushed me away abruptly, forcing me to sit up with him. With the scruff hiding parts of his cheeks I wasn't sure, but he seemed to be blushing. "You shouldn't touch a man like that in the morning,' he rasped, his hand hiding his crotch. — Stephanie Witter

And I'm left with this girl, this Siren of Mixed Signals, this Norah. She's a fuck-good kisser, but clearly has some massive consistency issues. I ask her how the fuck she knows Tris, because that is leaving me completely confused, and at first she's looking at me like I'm this guy she didn't just start kissing out of nowhere, but then she's got her hand on my arm in a way that makes me really notice I have an arm, and then she's making to run away, and at the same time looking at me like I'm some cancer child. Then I take hold of her arm and she resists without really resisting. Finally she pulls away, only to touch my face in this way that reminds me exactly of her kiss.Then she calls me you poor schmuck. — David Levithan

Out of the rolling ocean the crowd came a drop gently to me,
Whispering I love you, before long I die,
I have travel'd a long way merely to look on you to touch you,
For I could not die till I once look'd on you,
For I fear'd I might afterward lose you.
Now we have met, we have look'd, we are safe,
Return in peace to the ocean my love,
I too am part of that ocean my love, we are not so much separated,
Behold the great rondure, the cohesion of all, how perfect!
But as for me, for you, the irresistible sea is to separate us,
As for an hour carrying us diverse, yet cannot carry us diverse forever;
Be not impatient--a little space--know you I salute the air, the
ocean and the land,
Every day at sundown for your dear sake my love. — Walt Whitman

Douglas ignored her look, determined to move to the next phase in his strategy and went on. "Julia, I intend to be your lover." With Julia's soft warmth pressed so close, he could smell her. Both the feel of her and her scent made his body begin to tighten in an intensely pleasant way so that, when he spoke, his voice deepened, became hungry, as he, again, made his intentions clear but this time, he made them clearer. "I intend to sleep in sheets that smell of tangerines and jasmine. I intend to have your naked body squirming under mine. I intend to touch you everywhere with my hands and my mouth. I intend to memorise the taste of you, to make you call my name while I'm moving inside you, to make you so excited you beg me to let you come ... — Kristen Ashley

You know what is the worst thing in the world?
You are amidst this crowd, a swarm of people,
Who think they connect with you,
Every one of them, in their own way.
But in reality, you are being ripped apart,
Connecting with each one of them.
It is a constant struggle to connect with someone,
To be heard,to be understood,to be loved, to be accepted.
And it is done with a glimpse of hope,
That someone from these known and unknown faces,
Will hear you out, someone with a warm & genuine smile,
Will touch your heart.
And that's precisely when,perhaps,you would say,
Yes, THIS IS ME. — Sachin Garg

We are together. That means I don't look at another woman the way I look at you. I don't touch another woman the way I touch you. I don't feel about any woman the way I feel about you. Got it? Don't ever think I'd throw away what we have for a cheap, meaningless fuck. You either trust me, or you don't. So what's it going to be? -Ronin Black — Lorelei James

Sometimes life has its way with you. It peels back the layers of your existence like the skin of an onion until the real you glows underneath, raw and painful to the touch. It's in those moments, in that hour, you look to those that give you strength - for me, — Addison Moore

DEAR MISS MANNERS:
I a tired of being treated like a child. My father says it's because I am a child
I am twelve-and-a-half years old
but it still isn't fair. If I go into a store to buy something, nobody pays any attention to me, or if they do, it's to say, "Leave that alone," "Don't touch that," although I haven't done anything. My money is as good as anybody's, but because I am younger, they feel they can be mean to me. It happens to me at home, too. My mother's friend who comes over after dinner sometimes, who doesn't have any children of her own and doesn't know what's what, likes to say to me, "Shouldn't you be in bed by now,dear?" when she doesn't even know what my bedtime is supposed to be. Is there any way I can make these people stop?
GENTLE READER:
Growing up is the best revenge. — Judith Martin

She smiled. "I don't know. I wonder sometimes, too. Then you touch my face with your scarred hand and read my mind. Your eyes know me. That's why I keep following you all over the realm, barefoot or half-frozen, cursing the sun or the wind, or myself because I have no more sense than to love a man who does not even possess a bed I can crawl into at night. And sometimes I curse you because you have spoken my name in a way that no other man in the realm will speak it, and I will listen for that until I die. So," she added, as he gazed down at her mutely, "how can I leave you?" He — Patricia A. McKillip

That's what I want, a mental evidence I can feel. I don't want physical evidence, proof you have to go out and drag in. I want evidence that you can carry in your mind and always touch and smell and feel. But there's no way to do that. In order to believe in a thing you've got to carry it with you. You can't carry the Earth, or a man, in your pocket. I want a way to do that, carry things with me always, so I can believe in them. How clumsy to have to go to all the trouble of going out and bringing in something terribly physical to prove something. I hate physical things because they can be left behind and become impossible to believe in them. — Ray Bradbury

I set my face toward the sun again, and I think about my old life - the one I feel as though I've abandoned somehow. It hurts to think of it that way. And even though I know it wasn't perfect, I look back now, and all I see is perfection. Every soft whisper, every spoken word, every gentle touch - it's all perfect. Time won't let me see it otherwise. They're all just perfect memories - perfect, untouchable moments that came and went so softly that they almost feel as if they were always just a dream. — Laura Miller

Love means seeing beauty in the ugly, the light in the dark, and accepting that even if the lights are off, and I can't see what's in front of me, there will be something there to guide my way.
Love means turning yourself inside out, handing yourself over to somebody else, and trusting them.. trusting them to touch you, to handle you, to bend you, but never, ever break what you give them. — J.M. Darhower

Tell me that you're happy with your life that you don't crave my touch, my kisses, the way I used to whisper in your ear. Tell me that when you see me, your heart doesn't race, that butterflies don't flutter in your stomach, that the moment you see me, your world isn't right. Because every time I see you, everything is right in my world. I crave you, I need you, and I'll die proving to you that I'm a man that deserves you. When things went to hell for me, you were the only thing that kept me alive. Your memory kept me sane and has driven me to become a man. This time, Julia, I'm not letting you walk away and I'll fight for us. Even if I have to fight for the both of us, I'll fight till my dying breath to show you I deserve you. — M.L. Rodriguez

I may appear to suffer from some sort of compulsive repetition syndrome, but these rituals are important to me. I have many places where I sit and think, "I have been here before, I am here now, and I will be here again." Sometimes, lost in reverie, I remember myself approaching across the same green, or down the same footpath, in 1962 or 1983, or many other times. Sometimes Chaz comes along on my rituals, but just as often I go alone. Sometimes Chaz will say she's going shopping, or visiting a friend, or just staying in the room and reading in bed. "Why don't you go and touch your bases?" she'll ask me. I know she sympathizes. These secret visits are a way for me to measure the wheel of the years and my passage through life. Sometimes on this voyage through life we need to sit on the deck and regard the waves. — Roger Ebert

Open your eyes and say my name."
I squeeze them shut more tightly.
"It would make my cock hard to hear you say my name."
My eyes pop open. "Jericho Barrons," I say sweetly.
He makes a pained sound. "Bloody hell, woman, I think a part of me wants to keep you this way."
I touch his face. "I like how I am. I like how you are, too. When you are ... What is that word you used? Cooperating."
"Tell me to fuck you."
I smile and comply. We're back in territory I understand.
"You didn't say my name. Say my name when you tell me to fuck you."
"Fuck me, Jerricho Barrons."
"From now on, you will call me Jericho Barrons every time you speak to me. — Karen Marie Moning

How? It's obvious. You told me yourself, Lou is like your Bertha - she's an automaton, playing her role, the same role, with me, with you, with one man after the other. The particular man is incidental. She seduced both of us in the same way, with the same female deviousness, the same guile, the same gestures, the same promises!" "And yet this automaton controls you. She dominates your mind: you worry about her opinion, you pine for her touch." "No. No pining. No longer. What I feel now is rage. — Irvin D. Yalom

His voice gentled and his touch became more like a caress. "I love you," he whispered.
"Romeo ... "
"I love your glasses, your clumsiness, your wild hair, even the way you snort when you laugh." He smiled. "I love you in spite of yourself, Rim. Can't you love me in spite of myself?"
I couldn't help it, I smiled.
"You do come with a lot of baggage." I sighed. "You're impossibly good-looking, terrible at math, and you like to drink that swill you call beer." I mock shuddered.
He smiled, but I saw the relief in his eyes.
"Me being good-looking is a bad thing?" he teased.
"You have a lot of options," I said seriously. "I'm not the best one."
"No." He agreed. "You're not."
Geez, he could have said it a little nicer.
"You're the only one."
Oh, well, that was much better.
- Romeo & Rimmel — Cambria Hebert

You never know how a film will play, whether it will be successful or not, or whether it will touch the audience. I always said to myself that whatever happens, big audience or small, that I would not let the results have an impact on my way of working. But it would be a bit silly for me to change my methods when I have a big success. That means my methods work well. — Hayao Miyazaki

The Oldest Thirst There Is
Give us gladness that connects
with the Friend, a taste of the quick,
you that makes a cypress strong
and jasmine jasmine.
Give us the inner listening
that is a way in itself
and the oldest thirst there is.
Don't measure it out with a cup.
I am a fish. You are the moon.
You cannot touch me, but your light
can fill the ocean where I live. — Rumi

Without you the instruments would die.
One sits close beside you. Another takes a long kiss.
The tambourine begs, Touch my skin so I can be myself.
Let me feel you enter each limb bone by bone,
that what died last night can be whole today.
Why live some soberer way, and feel you ebbing out?
I won't do it.
Either give me enough wine or leave me alone,
now that I know how it is
to be with you in constant conversation. — Rumi

It didn't help that I was never allowed to study anything remotely contemporary until the last year of university: there was never any sense of that leading to this. If anything, my education gave me the opposite impression, of an end to cultural history round about the time that Forster wrote A Passage to India. The quickest way to kill all love for the classics, I can see now, is to tell young people that nothing else maters, because then all they can do is look at them in a museum of literature, through glass cases. Don't touch! And don't think for a moment that they want to live in the same world as you! And so a lot of adult life
if your hunger and curiosity haven't been squelched by your education
is learning to join up the dots that you didn't even know were there. — Nick Hornby

I want to hold you close, to cherish and protect you, to draw you in until we are so close that I am lost within you, I want to take you to bed to watch the way your skin tightens benneth my fingers the way your body awakens under my touch. I want to trail kisses over you until you are lost in so much pleasure that way you don't know where you end and I begin.I want to tie you up and fk you until there is no doubt that you are mine. I want to dress you up and take you out and show you off this beautiful, vibrant, brilliant woman. Everything I have built, all my companies, all my billions, they have no value compared to you. So no Nikki I will not take chances with your safety. I will not fight. I will not be defied. You do not want to move in with me thats fine. I will move in with you! — J. Kenner

I stepped close to him, placing a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat under his shirt. "I trust you," I said, rising so our faces were inches apart, trailing my fingers down his stomach. "I know you'll find a way."
His breath hitched, and he regarded me hungrily. "You're playing with fire, you know that?"
"That's weird, considering you're an ice prin-" I didn't get any further, as Ash leaned in and kissed me. I looped my arms around his neck as his snaked around my waist, and for a few moments the cold couldn't touch me. — Julie Kagawa

We can ask and ask but we can't have again what once seemed ours for ever - the way things looked, that church alone in the fields, a bed on a belfry floor, a remembered voice, the touch of a hand, a loved face. They've gone and you can only wait for the pain to pass.
All this happened so long ago. And I never returned, never wrote, never met anyone who might have given me news of Oxgodby. So, in memory, it stays as I left it, a sealed room furnished by the past, airless, still, ink long dry on a put-down pen.
But this was something I knew nothing of as I closed the gate and set off across the meadow. — J.L. Carr

I said, 'Then whered the other story come from? ... '
He said, 'It come in to my mynd.'
I said, 'You mean you made it up.'
He said, 'Wel no I dint make it up you cant make up nothing in your head no moren you can make up what you see. You know what I mean may be what you see aint all ways there so you cud reach out and touch it but its there some kynd of way and it come from some where. That place Hagmans Il I use to wunner about it every time we come by it til finely that story come in to my head. That story cudnt come out of no where cud it so it musve come out of some where. Parbly it ben in that place from time back way back or may be in a nother place only the idear of it come to me there. That don't make no odds. That storys jus what ever it is and thats what storys are. — Russell Hoban

Reth reached out and took my fingers in his own, his touch light but comforting. "I've found that sacrifice is called that for a reason. We have all lost much of what we were or could have been because of the mistakes of my people. We'll yet lose some things to set it right. But when you join eternity, you will not feel the sting of this life with such intensity."
"You mean I wouldn't feel at all?"
"I feel, my love. Simply not in the same way you do. And thank heavens for that, because you are quite an embarrassment at times. Your inconsistent and flailing passions will no longer be a concern."
Leave it to Reth to go from comforting me to insulting me in the course of one short conversation. — Kiersten White

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

Are you kidding?" I stop in the middle of the kitchen. Spin around. My face is pulled together in disbelief. "You've spoken to me maybe once in the two weeks I've been here. I hardly even notice you anymore."

"Okay, hold up," he says, turning to block my path. "We both know there's no way you haven't noticed all of this" - he gestures to himself - "so if you're trying to play games with me, I should let you know up front that it's not going to work."

"What?" I frown. "What are you talking abou - "

"You can't play hard to get, kid." He raises an eyebrow. "I can't even touch you. Takes 'hard to get' to a whole new level, if you know what I mean."

"Oh my God," I mouth, eyes closed, shaking my head. "You are insane."

He falls to his knees. "Insane for your sweet, sweet love! — Tahereh Mafi

You make me calm," I said quietly, "or at least calmer. How do you know how to do that? The way you touch me, the way you look at me ... I don't know what it means. — Shay Savage

I'll be here when you get back," Kane promised. He wasn't going anywhere. "Call me if you feel like talking. Text me if you don't." He smiled. "Either way, stay in touch. Please. — Avril Ashton

You bastard!" Before she could stop herself, Kat slapped his cheek as hard as she could. Deep caught her hand before she could pull it back. "Very nice, little Kat." Slowly, he drew the two fingers she'd used to touch herself between his lips, sucking and licking gently as though trying to get every last trace of her juices. Kat felt her heart skip a beat and then start to pound crazily against her ribs. Like it or not, she had to admit that the feel of his warm mouth on her flesh and the hot way he was looking at her was having an effect on her overheated body. "St-stop it," she stuttered, trying to pull away. "Let me go." "For now." He released her hand and began shrugging back into his shirt. "But you'll pay for that little love tap, my lady. I promise you that." Kat — Evangeline Anderson