D. H. Lawrence Quotes

Carter leaned toward me and brushed the hair away from the side of my face. "Don't look down then," he whispered.

I felt it very moving to feel his touch, and to remember that hands can also show love.

When you put a man and a woman together, there are some things they simply have to do. They embrace, they warm each other. All the rest is dead and empty.

To Grace, these were the things that mattered: my hands on her cheeks, my lips on her mouth. The fleeting touches that meant I loved her.

Sunday night meant, in the dark, wintry, rainy Midlands ... anywhere where two creatures might stand and squeeze together and spoon.... Spooning was a fine art, whereas kissing and cuddling are calf-processes.

I don’t suppose I really know you very well - but I know you smell like the delicious damp grass that grows near old walls and that your hands are beautiful opening out of your sleeves and that the back of your head is a mossy sheltered cave when there is trouble in the wind and that my cheek just fits the depression in your shoulder.

You know it's love when you want to keep holding hands even after you're sweaty.

Intimacy can be about holding someone's hand. It could be about stroking their hair.

I've always loved kissing. We all do, don't we?

I want to be kissed by the people I love.

Kissing someone is pretty intimate, actually very intimate, and your heart always kind of skips a beat before you do that.

I think more people need to make out.

I am a hug-and-kiss person.

I want to kiss her without counting the seconds. I want to hold her so long that I get to know her skin. I want, I want, I want.

The first undressing of two lovers is a most special event.

Make me feel at home, if you really care, scratch my back and run your pretty fingers through my hair.

Baby, in a world without pity Do you think what I'm askin's too much I just want to feel you in my arms Share a little of that Human Touch.

I liked just being with you. I liked the way you breathed when you were asleep. I liked when you took the champagne glass from my hand. I liked how your fingers were always too long for your gloves.

Sam reached his hand toward mine and I automatically put my fingers in his. With a guilty little smile he pulled my hand toward his nose and took a sniff and then another one. His smile widened though it was still shy. It was absolutely adorable and my breath got caught somewhere in my throat.

I was crying for joy, my Sassenach,' he said softly. He reached out slowly and took my face between his hands. "And thanking God that I have two hands. That I have two hands to hold you with. To serve you with, to love you with. Thanking God that I am a whole man still, because of you.

Kitten, your hands are heaven and your eyes are my home.

They haven't made love for years but sleep holding hands

You should be kissed everyday, every hour, every minute.

We efface an hour by passionate love, without twists, without aftertaste. When it is finished, it is not finished, we lie still in each other's arms lulled by our love, by tenderness -- sensuality in which the whole being can participate.

Sometimes I imagined stitching all of our little touches together. How many hundreds of thousands of fingers brushing against each other does it take to make love? Why does anyone ever make love?