Dan Hill Quotes

That you can know what i have in me and still want me as much as i want you. i go to sleep every night afraid i'll wake up and you'll be gone.or that i scared you away ... that i dreamed you-" "no. Gideon." jesus he broke my heart every day. shattered me.

It was the first time I had ever made love. I wondered if he knew that. It felt like crying. I wondered, Why does anyone ever make love?

What's powerful about a love scene is not seeing the act. It's seeing the passion, the need, the desire, the caring, the fear.

The best love stories on film are rooted in the point of view of the more woundable, vulnerable party, the more amorous party.

Then she was pressing her little proud broken self against his face, as close as she could get, and then they died.

I had stepped into his arms, showing him my raw, broken heart.

Grace,” I said, very softly. “Say something.” Sam,” she said, and I crushed her to me.

What other thing, Eve?" "I love you. Sometimes it makes my stomach hurt, but I kind of like it. Tired now, come to bed. Love you.

Simon stopped breathing until her forefinger touched his nipple, and then his hand shot up to cover hers. "I want you," he said. Her eyes flicked downward, and her lips curved ever so slightly. "I know." "No," he groaned, pulling her closer. "I want to be in your heart. I want-" His entire body shuddered when their skin touched. "I want to be in your soul.

“Simon,” she whispered, vaguely surprised that she had just used his first name, for she had never used it even in the privacy of her thoughts. Moistening her dry lips, she tried once more, and to her astonishment, she did it again. “Simon…” “Yes?” A new tension had entered his long, hard body, and at the same time, his hand moved over the shape of her skull in the softest caress possible. “Please… take me to my room.” Hunt tilted her head back gently and regarded her with a sudden faint smile playing on his lips. “Sweetheart, I would take you to Timbuktu if you asked.“

I couldn't recall the last time I'd seen that much of him on display. It was wonderful and frightening on the same time. I then said the stupidest thing possible. "You're not scared of anything." "I'm scared of a lot of things. I was scared for you" He released me, and I stepped back. There was still passion and worry written all over him. "I'm not perfect, I'm not invulnerable.

I feel the urge, familiar now, to wrench myself from my body and speak directly into her mind. It is the same urge, I realize, that makes me want to kiss her every time I see her, because even a sliver of distance between us is infuriating. Our fingers, loosely woven a moment ago, now clutch together, her palm tacky with moisture, mine rough in places where I have grabbed too many handles on too many moving trains. Now she looks pale and small, but her eyes make me think of wide-open skies that I have never actually seen, only dreamed of.

I don't want you to cook my bread, I don't want you to make my bed. I don't want you to because I'm sad and blue, I just want to make love to you.

...in that drunken place you would like to hand your heart to her and say touch it but then give it back.

Yet losing him seemed unbearable. He was the one she loved, the one she would always love, and as he leaned in to kiss her, she gave herself over to him. While he held her close, she ran her hands over his shoulders and back, feeling the strength in his arms. She knew he’d wanted more in their relationship than she’d been willing to offer, but here and now, she suddenly knew she had no other choice. There was only this moment, and it was theirs.

Like love we don't know where or why Like love we cant compel or fly Like Love we often weep Like Love we seldom keep

When he kisses me, I cry. I explain it's not because I wish he were someone else, it's because it's such a shock to the system to be desired after feeling so completely abandoned.

I knew that I couldn't lie beside her, without wanting to touch her. I couldn't have felt her breath come upon my mouth, without wanting to kiss her. And I couldn't have kissed her, without wanting to save her.

He turns toward me. I want to touch him, but I’m afraid of his bareness; afraid that he will make me bare too. ‘Is this scaring you, Tris?’ ‘No,’ I croak. I clear my throat. ‘Not really. I’m only…afraid of what I want.’ ‘What do you want?’ Then his face tightens. ‘Me?’ Slowly I nod.

The thing that makes me most vulnerable is romantic relationship.

Even though I'm in love, sometimes I get so afraid.

Love is a vulnerable thing. Falling in love is like a great drug.

In love, somehow, a man's heart is always either exceeding the speed limit, or getting parked in the wrong place.

The beginning of love is a horror of emptiness.