Anne Enright Quotes

See these hands? They are old. But they are soft. Only good for caressing.

Find someone who will tremble for your touch, someone whose fingers are a poem.

They dream of men with gentle hands, eloquent with tenderness, fingers that brushed along a cheek, that outlined open lips in the lovers' braille. Hands that sculpted sweetness from sullen flesh, that traced breast and ignited hips, opening, kneading. Flesh becomes bread in the heat of those hands, braided and rising.

At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet.

They invented hugs to let people know you love them without saying anything.

The beginning of love is a horror of emptiness.

But with exquisite breathing you smile, with satisfaction of love, And I touch you again as you tick in the silence and settle in sleep.

Some men know that a light touch of the tongue, running from a woman's toes to her ears, lingering in the softest way possible in various places in between, given often enough and sincerely enough, would add immeasurably to world peace.

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

Love is the kiss in the quiet nest while the leaves are trembling, mirrored in the water.

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

Move into kiss those sweet sugar lips, baby looks just like love.

Sweet love! Sweet lines! Sweet life! Here is her hand, the agent of her heart; Here is her oath for love, her honour's pawn

Finally getting control of myself, I kissed her again, then brought my hand to her face, gently running my fingers over her cheek. I marveled at the softness of her skin, the gentleness I saw in her eyes. Even now she was perfect.

My life would be constrained by the horror and fierce rage that my appearance inspired, but I would know peace as well as fear, tenderness as well as brutality, and even love in a time of cruelty.

She had the kind of fingers you want to interlace with your own.

She leaned toward me, offering her neck, and I kissed her just behind her ear.

Adrian tipped my face up toward his and kissed me. Like always, the world around me stopped moving. No, the world became Adrian, only Adrian.

When your hands leap towards mine, love, what do they bring me in flight?

Lay your sleeping head, my love, Human on my faithless arm.

She brushed her eyelashes against his chest.

“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.“

Where souls do couch on flowers we'll hand in hand.

I can say I'm a relationship person, and I like relationships. I think I also like relationships because then you don't have to date because dating is horrible.

Are you ever going to kiss me without swearing first?