Marjorie Holmes Quotes

What feeling in all the world is so nice as that of a child's hand in yours? It is soft. It is small and warm. It is as innocent and guileless as a rabbit or a puppy or a kitten huddling in the shelter of your clasp.

Don't leave my embrace for here in my arms is your place.

He lifted me up and held me close against him, my head on his shoulder. At that moment I loved him. In the morning light he was as golden, as soft, as gentle as myself, and he would protect me.

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

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

This is not a letter but my arms around you for a brief moment.

I can't really explain what it's like to be in love, but I feel like it's being comfortable. It's almost like having a best friend. It's a beautiful thing.

Being cuddly has nothing to do with size.

The sound of a mother's voice expresses a feeling of intimacy, which has a truly magical effect on the listener.

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

The tenderness between two people can turn the air tender, the room tender, time itself tender. As I step out of bed and slip on an oversize shirt, everything around me feels like it's the temperature of happiness.

As his hands moved to his trousers, he saw that she was pulling the bedsheets over her. "Don't," he said, barely recognizing his own voice. Her eyes met his, and he said, "I'll be your blanket".

He felt warm and familiar. He felt solid and safe. I wanted to cling to his shirt, bury my face into the warm curve of his neck, and never let go.

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.

He dropped the pretense, and dropped his head, so his brow came to rest against the sun-warmed top of hers. His arms went around her and drew her in, and Karou and Akiva were like two matches struck against each other to flare starlight. With a sigh, she softened, and it was pure homecoming to melt against him and rest.

Most of all she loved that when she hugged him her head would rest neatly just below his chin, where she could feel his breath lightly blowing her hair and tickling her head.

I'm thinking I would like to dance in the rain with this person. I would like to lie next to him in the dark and watch him breathe and watch him sleep and wonder what he's dreaming about and not get an inferiority complex if the dreams aren't about me.

When you know my love, my love will warm you.

He tilts his forehead down to rest against mine and pulls me closer. His skin, his whole being radiates heat from being so near the fire, and I close my eyes, soaking in his warmth. I breathe in the smell of snow-dampened leather and smoke and apples, the smell of all those wintry days we shared before the Games. I don't try to move away. Why should I anyway? His voice drops to a whisper. "I love you." That's why.

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

I'll put it out there: I love getting hugs.

Love keeps the cold out better than a cloak.

A boy is holding a girl so very tight in his arms tonight.

Love from one being to another can only be that two solitudes come nearer, recognize and protect and comfort each other.