Tamora Pierce Quotes

Every love story needs a catalyst of some sort.

I endeavor not to conceal that I believe there is a great mixture of desire in the passion which is called love--or rather, without any far-fetched strain on words, it may be called the companion of love.

To speak of love is to make love.

Love is the art of hearts, and heart or arts.

You should be kissed everyday, every hour, every minute.

To Grace, these were the things that mattered: my hands on her cheeks, my lips on her mouth. The fleeting touches that meant I loved her.

That subtle knot which makes us man So must pure lovers souls descend T affections, and to faculties, Which sense may reach and apprehend, Else a great Prince in prison lies.

When lovers kiss on the cheeks, it is because they are searching, feeling for one another's lips. Lovers are made by a kiss.

L'amour n'est pas seulement un sentiment, il est un art aussi. Love is not only a feeling; it is also an art.

Is love a fancy or a feeling.... or a Ferrars?

I always just loved women, but more important than loving women, more important than sexual stuff, is I always believed in romance.

You were made to be kissed, often and well.

I've been sitting down studying the Art of Love. I think it will fit me like a glove.

Of all the things I love to taste, sweetest is the kiss of love.

We set down feasts for each other and treated our love with tongues of fire. Our bodies were fields of wonder to us.

Love is something you fall into.

All I want is your loving, feel the earth move when we kiss. I don't need a big ol' diamond, but I'll take it baby if you insist.

I had to touch you with my hands, I had to taste you with my tongue; one can't love and do nothing.

Romance is an illusion. Well, romance is not a complete illusion, but it's ephemeral. It does not last.

Love is born in sexuality but sexuality is not love. The lotus is born in the mud, but the lotus is not just mud. And if mud remains mud of course there are bound to be tears on the cheeks.

My love has eyes blue as the sky. Her warm, bright smile makes me want to try To give her the world, And when she's curled Up in my arms where I can feel her touch, I realize again that I love her so much. My world has turned from black to white. Kissing in starlight, basking in sunlight, dancing at midnight.' ~John's poem for Belle

And what's romance? Usually, a nice little tale where you have everything As You Like It, where rain never wets your jacket and gnats never bite your nose and it's always daisy-time.

Then let amourous kisses dwell On our lips, begin and tell A Thousand and a Hundred score A Hundred and a Thousand more

I love love. I love having a lover and being one. The insularity of passion. I love it. I love the way it blurs the distinction between everyone who isn't one's lover.

I grabbed her ankle and kissed it, and when I looked up I saw her chin and her eyelashes as she threw back her head and laughed.