'T is sweet to think that where'er we rove We are sure to find something blissful and dear; And that when we 're far from the lips we love, We 've but to make love to the lips we are near.
You can’t fix me,” I whispered, the tears catching on my lips. “No one can.
Some asked me where the rubies grew, And nothing I did say; But with my finger pointed to The lips of Julia.
I am Michael Dobrescu, and I apologize for speaking harshly to you. But do not talk to my children or my sister when I am not here,” he said and held his hand out. Libby thought he meant to shake her hand, but when she extended it, he bowed low and brought it to his lips. She snatched her hand back. Well that was a European practice she was not accustomed to. She was thrown off guard and twisted her hand where his lips had touched.
Words sweet as honey from his lips distill'd.
O love! O fire! once he drew With one long kiss my whole soul through My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew.
Don't take rest after your first victory because if you fail in second, more lips are waiting to say that your first victory was just luck.
Papa, potatoes, poultry, prunes and prism, all very good words for the lips,--especially prunes and prism.
Every man shall kiss his lips that giveth a right answer.
I study his face closely. The smudges under his eyes are darker than usual; his lips are dry and ashen, similar to the rest of his face. It’s been a while between haircuts. Two days’ worth of stubble. He’s beautiful.
Vain is the chiming of forgotten bells That the wind sways above a ruined shrine. Vainer his voice in whom no longer dwells Hunger that craves immortal Bread and Wine. Light songs we breathe that perish with our breath Out of our lips that have not kissed the rod. They shall not live who have not tasted death. They only sing who are struck dumb by God.
Your voiceless lips, O flowers, are living preachers,--each cup a pulpit, and each leaf a book.
Or whispering with white lips, "The foe! They come! they come!"
Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. He hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now; your gambols, your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning? Quite chap-fallen? Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come.
Dicam insigne, recens, adhuc / Indictum ore alio=--I will utter something striking, something fresh, something as yet unsung by another's lips.
But I have sinuous shells of pearly hue Within, and they that lustre have imbibed In the sun's palace-porch, where when unyoked His chariot-wheel stands midway in the wave: Shake one, and it awakens; then apply Its polisht lips to your attentive ear, And it remembers its august abodes, And murmurs as the ocean murmurs there.
The sublimest canticle to be heard on earth is the stammering of the human soul on the lips of infancy.
Un soupir, un regard, un mot de votre bouche, / Voila l'ambition d'un c?ur comme le mien=--A sigh, a look, a word from your lips, that is the ambition of a heart like mine.
The exterior must be joined to the interior to obtain aught from God, that is to say, we must kneel, pray with the lips, etc., in order that proud man, who would not submit himself to God, should now be subject to the creature. To expect succour from these externals is superstition, to refuse to join them to interior acts is pride.
Tentanda via est qua me quoque possim / Tollere humo, victorque virum volitare per ora=--I too must attempt a way by which I may raise myself above the ground, and soar triumphant through the lips of men.
The cup of life which God offers to our lips is not always sweet; ... but, sweet or bitter, it is ours to drink it without murmur or demur.
"Thy will be done!" This is what the saints had continually on their lips and in their hearts.--ST. ALPHONSUS.
Cherry ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry, Full and fair ones,--come and buy! If so be you ask me where They do grow, I answer, there, Where my Julia's lips do smile,-- There 's the land, or cherry-isle.
Their lips were four red roses on a stalk.
Lying lips are an abomination unto the Lord.
I don’t do gentle, Mara,” he felt compelled to warn even as he worked his way down from her lips, over her chin, to the tender spot where her neck met her shoulder. He scraped his teeth over the frantic beat of her pulse and reveled in the delicate shudder that shook her body. “So if that’s how you think this is going to go, back out now.
Beauty's ensign yet Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, And death's pale flag is not advanced there.
Yes,” he says, he swallows, “I did. I do. I do want to be your friend.” He nods and I register the slight movement in the air between us. “I want to be the friend you fall hopelessly in love with. The one you take into your arms and into your bed and into the private world you keep trapped in your head. I want to be that kind of friend,” he says. “The one who will memorize the things you say as well as the shape of your lips when you say them. I want to know every curve, every freckle, every shiver of your body, Juliette—” “No,” I gasp. “Don’t—don’t s-say that—” I don’t know what I’ll do if he keeps talking I don’t know what I’ll do and I don’t trust myself “I want to know where to touch you,” he says. “I want to know how to touch you. I want to know how to convince you to design a smile just for me.” I feel his chest rising, falling, up and down and up and down and “Yes,” he says. “I do want to be your friend.” He says “I want to be your best friend in the entire world.” I can’t think. I can’t breathe “I want so many things,” he whispers. “I want your mind. Your strength. I want to be worth your time.” His fingers graze the hem of my top and he says “I want this up.” He tugs on the waist of my pants and says “I want these down.” He touches the tips of his fingers to the sides of my body and says, “I want to feel your skin on fire. I want to feel your heart racing next to mine and I want to know it’s racing because of me, because you want me. Because you never,” he says, he breathes, “never want me to stop. I want every second. Every inch of you. I want all of it.” And I drop dead, all over the floor.
I am Sir Oracle, And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!
Let the name of Mary be ever on your lips, let it be indelibly engraven on your heart. If you are under her protection, you have nothing to fear; if she is propitious, you will arrive at the port of salvation.-- ST. BERNARD.
Here is the response of faith. "Thou knowest!"--what a pillow for the heart to repose upon! "Thou knowest!"--what few but comprehensive words to sum up and express the heart's difficulties and perplexities and trials. "Thou knowest!"--what an inexpressibly sweet resting-place in the midst of life's tumultuous heavings; in the midst of a sea that knows no calm; in the midst of a scene in which tossings to and fro are the hourly history! What an answer they contain for every heart that can find no words to express its big emotions; for a heart whose sorrows are too deep for language to find its way to God! Oh, that they were ever uppermost in the soul, as the response to every difficulty in our path! They are God's answer to everything we cannot fathom; God's answer for our hearts to rest upon, and our lips to utter, when every way is hedged up so that we cannot pass. "O Lord God, thou knowest!" Rest here, believer. Lean thy soul on these words. Repose calmly on the bosom of thy God, and carry them with thee into every scene of life. "O Lord God, thou knowest."--_F. Whitfield._
Let go of me," I scream, but, oh, only in my imagination because my lips are finished working and my heart has just expired and my mind has gone to hell for the day and my eyes my eyes I think they're bleeding...
The great moments of life are but moments like the others. Your doom is spoken in a word or two. A single look from the eyes, a mere pressure of the hand, may decide it; or of the lips, though they cannot speak.
Love is enough: though the World be a-waning And the woods have no voice but the voice of complaining, Though the sky be too dark for dim eyes to discover The gold-cups and daisies fair blooming thereunder, Though the hills be held shadows, and the sea a dark wonder, And this day draw a veil over all deeds passed over, Yet their hands shall not tremble, their feet shall not falter; The void shall not weary, the fear shall not alter These lips and these eyes of the loved and the lover.
Some asked how pearls did grow, and where? Then spoke I to my girl To part her lips, and showed them there The quarelets of pearl.
Four flips the gun in this hand, presses the barrel to Peter's forehead, and clicks a bullet into place. Peter freezes with his lips parted, the yawn dead in his mouth. "Wake. Up," Four snaps. "You are holding a loaded gun, you idiot. Act like it.
Oh no! we never mention her,-- Her name is never heard; My lips are now forbid to speak That once familiar word.
Lazy folks ask for work with their lips, but their hearts pray God that they may not find it.
"The hands that help are better far than the lips that pray."
Was he serious? “Why do you need Google?” “When don’t you need Google?” He was serious. There were moments Sloane wondered how Dex had made it this far. Either the guy was deceptively clever or extremely talented at pretending he was. “How about when you have a powerful, multimillion dollar government interface linked to numerous intelligence agencies across the globe right in front of you.” Dex squinted at him, his lips pursed thoughtfully. “So… is that a no on Google?
"No" is a surly, honest fellow--speaks his mind rough and round at once. "But" is a sneaking, evasive, half-bred, exceptuous sort of conjunction, which comes to pull away the cup just when it is at your lips.
Govern the lips as they were palace-doors, the king within; / Tranquil and fair and courteous be all words which from that presence win.
There is no religion in the whole world which in simplicity, in purity of purpose, in charity, and true humanity, comes near to that religion which Christ taught to His disciples. And yet that very religion, we are told, is being attacked on all sides. The principal reason for this omnipresent unbelief is, I believe, the neglect of our foundations, the disregard of our own bookless religion, the almost disdain of Natural Religion. Even bishops will curl their lips when you speak to them of that natural and universal _religion_ which existed before the advent of our historical religions, nay, without which all historical religions would have been as impossible as poetry is without language. Natural religion may exist and does exist without revealed religion--revealed religion without natural religion is an utter impossibility.
How wonderful is Death, / Death and his brother Sleep! / One, pale as yonder waning moon, / With lips of lurid blue; / The other, rosy as the morn, / When, throned on ocean's wave, / It blushes o'er the world: / Yet both so passing wonderful.
The mossy marbles rest On the lips that he has prest In their bloom; And the names he loved to hear Have been carved for many a year On the tomb.
Heart on her lips, and soul within her eyes, Soft as her clime, and sunny as her skies.
Let another man praise thee, and not thine own mouth; a stranger, and not thine own lips.
Keep thy tongue from evil, and thy lips from speaking guile.
I am Sir Oracle, / And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark.
..all shiny cheeks and full lips.
He kissed her and promised. Such beautiful lips! Man's usual fate--he was lost upon the coral reefs.--_Douglas Jerrold._
Remember your life is to be a singing life. This world is God's grand cathedral for you. You are to be one of God's choristers, and there is to be a continual eucharistic sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving going up from your heart, with which God shall be continually well pleased. And there should be not only the offering of the lips, but the surrender of the life with joy. Yes, with _joy_, and not with _constraint_. Every faculty of our nature should be presented to Him in gladsome service, for the Lord Jehovah is my song as well as my strength.--_W. Hay Aitken._
Was this the face that launch'd a thousand ships, And burnt the topless towers of Ilium? Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss! Her lips suck forth my soul: see, where it flies!
We mortals, men and women, devour many a disappointment between breakfast and dinner-time; keep back the tears and look a little pale about the lips, and in answer to inquiries say, "Oh, nothing!" Pride helps us; and pride is not a bad thing when it only urges us to hide our own hurts--not to hurt others.--_George Eliot._
We'd jump the life to come. But, in these cases, / We still have judgment here; that we but teach / Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return / To plague the inventor. This even-handed justice / Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice / To our own lips.
And when her lips met mine, I knew that I could live to be a hundred and visit every country in the world, but nothing would ever compare to that single moment when I first kissed the girl of my dreams and knew that my love would last forever.
odor. The men’s bodies were pocked with salt sores, and their lips were so swollen that they pressed into their nostrils and chins. They spent their days
Hearts are the depositaries of secrets, lips their locks, and tongues their keys.
Dear as remember'd kisses after death, And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign'd On lips that are for others; deep as love,-- Deep as first love, and wild with all regret. Oh death in life, the days that are no more!
He kissed me hard, as though he'd pluck up kisses by the roots that grew upon my lips.--_Shakespeare._
The earth was unintelligible to the ancients because looked upon as a solitary being, without a peer in the whole universe; but it assumed a new and true significance as soon as it rose before the eyes of man as one of many planets, all governed by the same laws, and all revolving around the same centre. It is the same with the human soul, and its nature stands before our mind in quite a different light since man has been taught to know and feel himself as a member of a great family--as one of the myriads of wandering stars all governed by the same laws, and all revolving around the same centre, and all deriving their light from the same source. 'Universal History' has laid open new avenues of thought, and it has enriched our language with a word which never passed the lips of Socrates, or Plato, or Aristotle--_Mankind_. Where the Greek saw barbarians, we see brethren; where the Greek saw nations, we see mankind, toiling and suffering, separated by oceans, divided by language, and severed by national enmity,--yet evermore tending, under a divine control, towards the fulfilment of that inscrutable purpose for which the world was created, and man placed in it, bearing the image of God. History therefore, with its dusty and mouldering pages, is to us as sacred a volume as the book of nature. In both we read, or we try to read, the reflex of the laws and thoughts of a Divine Wisdom. We believe that there is nothing irrational in either history or nature, and that the human mind is called upon to read and to revere in both the manifestations of a Divine Power.
Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway, / And fools who came to scoff remain'd to pray.
With that she dasht her on the lippes, So dyed double red: Hard was the heart that gave the blow, Soft were those lips that bled.
I am a man of unclean lips.
The talk of the lips tendeth only to penury.
Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me prov'd, I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.
They may seize On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand And steal immortal blessing from her lips, Who, even in pure and vestal modesty, Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin.
Take, O, take those lips away, That so sweetly were forsworn; And those eyes, the break of day, Lights that do mislead the morn: But my kisses bring again, bring again; Seals of love, but sealed in vain, sealed in vain.
~Language.~--The Creator has gifted the whole universe with language, but few are the hearts that can interpret it. Happy those to whom it is no foreign tongue, acquired imperfectly with care and pain, but rather a native language, learned unconsciously from the lips of the great mother.--_Bulwer-Lytton._
Love on his lips and hatred in his heart: / His motto--constancy, his creed--to part.
understands the subject of their argument. I once saw at Florence a man who had become deaf by an accident, who, if you spoke loud to him, did not understand you, but if you spoke gently, without making any noise, he understood you merely by the movement of the lips. Now you can say, Does not one who talks loudly move his lips like one who talks softly? In regard to this I leave experiment to decide: make a man speak gently to you and note his lips.
If it were done when 't is done, then 't were well It were done quickly: if the assassination Could trammel up the consequence, and catch With his surcease success; that but this blow Might be the be-all and the end-all here, But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, We 'ld jump the life to come. But in these cases We still have judgment here; that we but teach Bloody instructions, which being taught, return To plague the inventor: this even-handed justice Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice To our own lips.
The cup which our Father giveth us to drink is a cup for the will. It is easy for the lips to drain it when once the heart has accepted it. Not on the heights of Calvary, but in the shadows of Gethsemane is the cup presented; the act is easy after the choice. The real battle-field is in the silence of the spirit. Conquer there, and thou art crowned.--_George Matheson._
Never close your lips to those whom you have already opened your heart.
Oh that those lips had language! Life has pass'd With me but roughly since I heard thee last.
The lips of a fool swallow up himself.--_Bible._
If Peeta and I were both to die, or they thought we were....My fingers fumble with the pouch on my belt, freeing it. Peeta sees it and his hand clamps on my wrist. "No, I won't let you." "Trust me," I whisper. He holds my gaze for a long moment then lets go. I loosen the top of the pouch and pour a few spoonfuls of berries into his palm. Then I fill my own. "On the count of three?" Peeta leans down and kisses me once, very gently. "The count of three," he says. We stand, our backs pressed together, our empty hands locked tight. "Hold them out. I want everyone to see," he says. I spread out my fingers, and the dark berries glisten in the sun. I give Peeta's hand one last squeeze as a signal, as a good-bye, and we begin counting. "One." Maybe I'm wrong. "Two." Maybe they don't care if we both die. "Three!" It's too late to change my mind. I lift my hand to my mouth taking one last look at the world. The berries have just passed my lips when the trumpets begin to blare. The frantic voice of Claudius Templesmith shouts above them. "Stop! Stop! Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victors of the 74th Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark! I give you - the tributes of District 12!
All kin' o' smily round the lips, An' teary round the lashes.
That so much time was wasted in this pain. Ten thousand years ago he might have let off down To not return again! A dreadful laugh at last escapes his lips; The laughter sets him free. A Fool lives in the Universe! he cries. The Fool is me! And with one final shake of laughter Breaks his bonds. The nails fall skittering to marble floors. And Christ, knelt at the rail, sees miracle As Man steps down in amiable wisdom To give himself what no one else can give: His liberty.
See my lips tremble and my eyeballs roll, Suck my last breath, and catch my flying soul.
You would think that, if our lips were made of horn, and stuck out a foot or two from our faces, kisses at any rate would be done for. Not so. No creatures kiss each other so much as birds.--_Charles Buxton._
Oh, no! we never mention her; / Her name is never heard; / My lips are now forbid to speak / That once familiar word.
Oft kommt ein nutzlich Wort aus schlechtem Munde=--A serviceable word often issues from worthless lips.
Her lips were red, and one was thin; Compared with that was next her chin,-- Some bee had stung it newly.
He from whose lips divine persuasion flows.
Ardon was greeted by several of the members of the tribe of Dan. They were an unruly, quarrelsome group, and Ardon remembered the prophecy that Jacob, the grandson of Abraham, had given on his deathbed. He had identified the nature of each of his sons, and of Dan he had said, “Dan will be a serpent by the roadside, a viper along the path, that bites the horse’s heels so that its rider tumbles backward.” A grim smile touched Ardon’s broad lips. “Old Jacob got it right that time. Dan has some good soldiers, but they are not to be trusted.
Scald not thy lips with another man's porridge.
Mysterious to all thought, / A mother's prime of bliss, / When to her eager lips is brought / Her infant's thrilling kiss.
~Lips.~--Lips like rosebuds peeping out of snow.--_Bailey._
Those happiest smiles that played on her ripe lips seemed not to know what guests were in her eyes, which parted thence as pearls from diamonds dropped.--_Shakespeare._
Fuck, I want to kiss her again. I want to feel her lips on mine. I want to hear that throaty noise she made the first time I sucked on her tongue.
The faith in an Invisible, Unnameable, Godlike, present everywhere in all we see and work and suffer, is the essence of all faith whatsoever; and that once denied, or, still worse, asserted with lips only, and out of bound prayer-books only, what other thing remains credible?
Four sweet lips, two pure souls, and one undying affection,--these are love's pretty ingredients for a kiss.--_Bovée._
This is what you shall do; Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body.
I would not so dishonour God as to lend my voice to perpetuate all the mad and foolish things which men have dared to say of Him. I believe that we may find in the Bible the highest and purest religion most of all in the history of Him in whose name we all are called. His religion — not the Christian religion, but the religion of Christ — the poor man's gospel; the message of forgiveness, of reconciliation, of love; and, oh, how gladly would I spend my life, in season and out of season, in preaching this! But I must have no hell terrors, none of these fear doctrines; they were not in the early creeds, God knows whether they were ever in the early gospels, or ever passed His lips. He went down to hell, but it was to break the chains, not to bind them.