Frank Herbert Quotes

He laced his fingers through mine and lifted my hand to his lips. I had gloves on, but he kissed exactly where I wore his ring. “Why are you so sweet?” I asked, my voice small. My heart beat rapidly, and every star peeping through the clouds seemed to be shining just for me. “I don’t think I’m that sweet. I mean, I just told you to be quiet. That’s one step away from asking you to wash my laundry and make me a sandwich.” “You know what I mean.” Seth pressed another kiss to my forehead. “I’m sweet because you make it easy to be sweet.

My softer side? I mean, I like to snuggle.

Love me tender, love me sweet, never let me go.

They linger near the back door, forehead to forehead and curved like statues as their lips whisper and brush together.

Love’s secret is always lifting its head out from under the covers, “Here I am!”

I lean over and put my good ear to his lips, which tickle me as he whispers. "Remember, we're madly in love, so it's all right to kiss me any time you like it.

Romance is sort of an island right next to care. When you care about someone and you listen to them and you hear them and you can feel them and you know just what's right, and generally it's something that will be very unimpressive to a room of strangers.

When I'm in love with a woman, seeing her in something cozy makes me not want to let go of her when I'm holding her.

What is a kiss? Why this, as some approve: The sure, sweet cement, glue, and lime of love.

So, fall asleep love, loved by me... for I know love, I am loved by thee.

The romantic embrace can only be compared with music and with prayer.

But friendship is the breathing rose, with sweets in every fold.

It is the passion that is in a kiss that gives to it its sweetness; it is the affection in a kiss that sanctifies it.

I get off on finding new ways to tell my wife 'I love you.'

Nothing makes me feel more mushy and full of love for my husband than going back and looking at our flirtation unfolding online. I love reading our old e-mails, texts, and Gchats.

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

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.

How sweet it is to love, and to be dissolved, and as it were to bathe myself in thy love.

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.

If you have love, even plain cold water is sweet.

Love is friendship that has caught fire . . .

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.

Your kisses lift me higher...like the sweet song of a choir. You light my morning sky, with burning love.

I waited just to see you at that kind of peace, I wanted to be beside you, I wanted you to wake up slowly or startle, or just half awaken and turn over or murmur my name. I wanted to watch you forever, or sleep beside you forever, or sleep forever while you woke and watched me, something forever anyway. I wanted to kiss you, rumple your hair, rest three fingertips on your hip bone warm and smooth, wake you that way or hush you back to sleep.