Francesca Lia Block Quotes

You all want to know what is my dream? Very simple. To walk along the beach, holding the hand of my lover.

My passion is capturing what it feels like to love, be it romantic or otherwise. I love to watch two people realize what they meant for each other - and that goes across all media, books, TV, movies, personal essays; everything.

For me there was-is-nothing better than walking on the beach late at night. It feels like you could walk forever, like the whole night is yours and so is the ocean. When you walk on the beach at night, you can say things you can't say in real life. In the dark you can feel really close to a person. You can say whatever you want.

A kiss is like a fight, with mouths.

If a kiss could be seen I think it would look like a violet.

Kissing is something that everybody does!

Her cry was the saddest sound of orgasm that I had ever heard.

A real love letter is absolutely ridiculous to everyone except the writer and the recipient.

I have heard stories that it was love at first sight for both of us, that we disappeared to a guest room at Merle's house, had our meals sent up, and didn't emerge for several days. This is absolutely untrue. I would never behave like that as a guest in someone's home. Carlos and I went to my beach house.

A kiss is the natures way to stop a conversation, when the words are superfluous

I am longing to be with you, and by the sea, where we can talk together freely and build our castles in the air.

Cole sat back up, slowly, and I opened my eyes. His expression, as ever, was blank, the face he wore when something mattered. He said, "That's how I would kiss you, if I loved you.

I love the tempestuousness of oceans and the calmness and solitude of lakes. Also, sensuality that drips and runs down the spine. And I'm not afraid to cry. Tears are a form of expression, and that's sexy.

We carry oceans inside of us, in our blood and our sweat. And we are crying the oceans, in our tears.

If you need one more reason, I love you.

"And I love you too." His fingers skate the edge of my jaw, dance briefly over my lips. "You should know that. You have to know that."

I love your hands,' he sighed. 'You think I look like an angel? Well, Kitten, your hands are my heaven and your eyes are my home.'" (Bones)

You shared one of the most intimate things that ever happened to you - falling in love with someone who wasn't brave enough to love you back. Your relieving yourself of your 'secret' is as much about wanting to honestly connect as it is about exhibition. We are all made better by your decision to share publicly.

A kiss is like singing into someone's mouth.

A good cry can be wonderful sometimes, and sadness is nothing more than love announced. Sadness and Unhappiness are not the same thing, and it is good to remember that. And there is this: sadness cleanses the heart.

There is a moment—Oh, just before the first kiss, a whispered word—something that makes it worth while.

How can I be expected to love someone who tries such crude manipulations as bringing me breakfast in bed?

His mouth captured hers, trying to show her with his kiss what he was still learning to express in words. He loved her. He worshipped her. He'd walk across fire for her. He— —still had the audience of her three brothers. Slowly breaking the kiss, he turned his face to the side. Anthony, Benedict, and Colin were still standing in the foyer. Anthony was studying the ceiling, Benedict was pretending to inspect his fingernails, and Colin was staring quite shamelessly.

Most of us have loved. And the terror for a writer is that readers will forgive you so much, but they won't forgive you one false note about love, about which they too are expert.

He caught me to him and cupped my cheek in one hand. “I want to keep feeling the way I feel when I’m with you. Just tell me what I have to do.