c2p-cmd/Good-Quotes-Authors huggingface dataset:
Are you using me simply as a vulgar tool? Don't you care for me the least little bit? Let me suggest that for a girl in your-your ambiguous position, you are too proud, by several shades. Don't go back to Roger in a hurry! You're not the unspotted maiden you were but two short days ago. Who am I, what am I, to the people whose opinion you care for? A very low fellow, madam; and yet with me you've gone far to cast your lot. If you're not prepared to do more, you should have done less. Nora, Nora," he went on, breaking into a vein none the less revolting for being more ardent, "I confess I don't understand you! But the more you puzzle me the more you fascinate me; and the less you like me the more I love you. What has there been between you and Lawrence? Hang me if I can understand! Are you an angel of purity, or are you the most audacious of flirts?
— Henry James
There is no hard and fast line that can be drawn that says: Up to here there was no love; from here on there is now love. Love is a gradual thing, it may take a moment, a month, or a year to come on, and in each two its gradations are different. With some it comes fast, with some it comes slowly. Sometimes one kindles from the other, sometimes both kindle spontaneously. And once in a tragic while one kindles only after the other has already dimmed and gone out, and has to burn forlornly alone.("Too Nice A Day To Die")
— Cornell Woolrich, Tonight, Somewhere in New York: The Last Stories and an Unfinished Novel
My heart! Ohhh my poor heartIts bruised...its scarred and its full of pain.... But its still in love with you!
— Kiran  Joshi
For a moment, Blake said nothing. After chewing on her venom for a moment, he shrugged. “I would rather you hate me for who I am than love me for who I’m not.
— Tanya Kaley, Lady Highwayman
There’s nothing wonderful or interesting about unrequited love. I think it’s shitty, just plain shitty. To love someone who doesn’t return your affections might be exciting in books, but in life it’s unbearably boring. I’ll tell you what’s exciting: sweaty, passionate nights. But sitting on the veranda outside the home of a sleeping woman who isn’t dreaming about you is slow moving and just plain sad.
— Steve Toltz, A Fraction of the Whole
And this," cried Darcy, as he walked with quick steps across the room, "is your opinion of me! This is the estimation in which you hold me! I thank you for explaining it so fully.
— Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
I just stood there, like a grain of sand amongst amillion others on a beach.
— Jeff Erno, Dumb Jock
The truth is that there is almost nothing as tiresome as unwanted love.
— Sheila Kohler, The Perfect Place
She personified her name in everything she did. Even when we would row, her words were deftly chosen and spoken rather like an intricate dance. And I so loved to dance with her.
— Lauren Cagliola Green, The Visitors
That thing that Hamlet says - "there is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so". Not quite true if you are stuck under a grand piano, not quite true for genocide, but surely it must be true about love?
— Deborah Meyler
I can't give you the moon,” the tinker said. “She doesn't belong to me. She belongs only to herself.
— Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear
You love him because this is what you do. Over and over again. You knit yourself right up into these men's lives, these men who will never ever be able to love you back, and then you wonder like a crazy person why you aren't the chosen one at the end. You have to stop doing this...
— Collier Lumpkin, Love, to Taste
Love is the one thing in this world that you should never have to go through alone… For unreciprocated love is the most soul crushing experience you will ever go through.
— Ben Mitchell
My heart is not brave or big. It is not cruel either. It is not strong at all. I keep it within this iron cage for a reason. Breathe on it wrong and I will die... Just go now. I would rather let you see my face, than my heart.
— Rebecca Ashe
Her love has been always unrequited, but until now it wasn't real love. Now it hurts, and that's how she knows it is real.
— Ellen Litman, Mannequin Girl
Limerence is an obsessive, unrequited love. It is actually a disorder. A disease if you will.
— Elizabeth Cohen, The Hypothetical Girl
Souls soar high above reach,Hands extend but never touch,Words exchanged in dulcet tones,Tis a fated moment to understand one's truth,Time to let go.
— Truth Devour, Wantin
I think I've found someone with who I want to spend my life with and that person...Isn't you.
— A. Esquivel, Betrayal
I won't be a substitute for what you cannot have. Especially not if it is my sister's shadow you mean to place me in.
— Kristen Callihan, Moonglow
The problem with me is that I cannot focus when she is on my mind. I can’t. I probably will make a mistake when writing that paper and will start writing everything I feel about her—the professor will be very happy with that, I am sure. Oh well, such is my life. I guess I’ve been attempting my best to forget her for several weeks now. But even in that act of forgetting her, I am remembering her. I am recollecting her and recreating her in my mind. And that’s where everything falls apart. In remembering her, I remember her goodness. In remembering her, I remember her weaknesses and my own. In remembering her, I am remembering myself. Out of that dark cave of mine, I call myself out. And then all of the remembering starts again. I doodle, I twitch, I aim restlessly for some unseen goal. And then my thoughts drift to you. I’ll let them stay there for now. Just for a minute. Or two.
— Moses Y. Mikheyev
She came by..... I couldn't help but look...only to look and she smiled back!Wheeew, she blown me away,to realize i made her my goal from the hands of the man he have at present....A family of her own i never want to destroy laid on the line.... a story was made, a secret was solemnly shared by two...Oh i loved her and she loved me too.... most of the time she got scared, i got scared too..for fighting aginst the odds and she stayed back...i stood up to break....flew just to fall....only to realize a love i have no control of and no one can......i am not to bid goodbye ...I can't ...only to keep a love unrequited like mine.
— Bob Villarosa
Not today. Instead of Wendy, I found myself thinking of Annie Ross and realizing I’d developed a small but powerful crush on her. The fact that nothing could come of it—she had to be ten years older than me, maybe twelve—only seemed to make things worse. Or maybe I mean better, because unrequited love does have its attractions for young men.
— Stephen King, Joyland
There are those whose love awakens our own and those whose love undermines. As long as we are blind to this fact, true love will elude us.
— B.G. Bowers, Death and Life
Was the happiness of knowing these girls really unattainable? It would certainly not have been the first happiness of that sort which I had abandoned all hope of ever enjoying?
— Marcel Proust, In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower
I know you’ve forgotten me, but I’ll remember you as long as I live.
— Julio Alexi Genao, When You Were Pixels
Someday you’re gonna realize that no one on this earth will ever love you the way I do. You’ll wish you’d said the words, wish you’d had this moment back. The truth is whether you say them or not I’ll still go on loving you. Even when it hurts, even when I feel it cut me up inside and I bleed…I’ll still love you, but someday…probably sooner than either of us want it to be….someday…I’ll hate you for it.” Raylan’s words are cruel and wonderful at the same time.
— Ashley Jeffery
Eventually, I spent so much time in the friend zonethat I grew to think of it as some kindof magical home away from home, some lush forestfilled with unicorns and elves and puppiesnone of whom were getting laid.
— Dylan Garity
A thousand lips, a thousand eyes,a thousand hearts will read these words,as you read them, graze them, this moment. Thousands will utter them into the abyss, someday, perhaps for years to come; loudly, softly,repeatedly, again and again and again.Some will mock, some will laugh. Somewill shed a tear. But it is writtenonly for your lips, your eyes, your heart,beloved.Do as you please.It is written by an ideal heart,intense, yet free, when in thought of you. Written from a dehydrated pen, thatshed the last drops of her blood,onto you. And still, you do not know me.No, you will never know of this desire.It is a shame, when love cannot love,who she loves, amidst these mortal games. And No. It is for me to know,and for you to close the last pagesof my confessions, making nothing of it.As always, like always,I write for you and for the madnessthat stirs in every soul that has once burned, and for the tender parts of your soul, too.Nothing is hidden, nothing is revealed. The separation between the soul and mate,between lover and the beloved,is through spirit, is it not, my love? Or is it flesh? There, there is the clue.And this, this is the nature of our love. Forbidden,closed, then left ajar in oblivion.My eyes touch your lips, your eyes touch my lips, yet, no one makes a sound. No one moves on.What madness is this?And here you go, turning the pages now, there you go.
— V.S. Atbay
It’s bad enough to love someone who don’t love you, but to have them told of it is perfectly awful. It makes me wild just to think of it. Ah, Fan, I’m getting so ill tempered and envious and wicked, I don’t know what will happen to me. - Polly
— Louisa May Alcott, An Old-Fashioned Girl
Olivia sat back and propped her half-boots on the table. 'So far it's working. He has to return to me because I have his sister hostage.' She briefly put her fingertips to her lips. 'Did I just say that? I mean I'm protecting the baby sister and earning his trust
— Kresley Cole, If You Dare
They laughed at him, but they didn't know, they didn't know about all the nice things he had. No one knew. No one. Only someday he'd see somebody different, somebody to give his things to, somebody who would give him all their things. Yes. He'd like that. He'd know her when he saw her. He'd know just what to say.
— George R.R. Martin, The Pear Shaped Man
A thousand lips, a thousand eyes,a thousand hearts will read these words,as you read them, graze them, this moment. Thousands will utter them into the abyss, someday, perhaps for years to come; loudly, softly,repeatedly, again and again and again.Some will mock, some will laugh. Somewill shed a tear. But it is writtenonly for your lips, your eyes, your heart,beloved.Do as you please.It is written by an ideal heart,intense, yet free, when in thought of you. Written from a dehydrated pen that shed the last drops of her blood,onto you. And still, you do not know me.
— V.S. Atbay
Let’s always love each other, and never be in love with each other.
— David Levithan, Every You, Every Me
Most of us can't help but live as though we've got two lives to live, one is the mockup, the other the finished version, and then there are all those versions in between. But there's only one, and before you know it, your heart is worn out, and, as for your body, there comes a point when no one looks at it, much less wants to come near it. Right now there's sorrow. I don't envy the pain. But I envy you the pain. (p. 225)
— André Aciman, Call Me by Your Name
Love?' he asked himself, giving no sense of recognition for that word in the dictionary of his mind. It was the only battle he had lost in life, the only thing that had been snatched away from him, before he could even claim it.
— Faraaz Kazi, Truly, Madly, Deeply
Cruelty is a language that the blind can see, the deaf can hear, and the heart feels forever.
— Shannon L. Alder
What I wanted to preserve was the turbulent gasp in his voice which lingered with me for days afterward and told me that, if I could have him like this in my dreams every night of my life, I'd stake my entire life on dreams and be done with the rest. (p. 109)
— André Aciman, Call Me by Your Name
We've done so much together, wherever I go and whatever I see, I think of you. Newborn babies; the pattern on the plate that you can see under a paper-thin slice of sashimi; fireworks in August. The moon hidden behind the clouds over the ocean at night. When I'm sitting down someplace, inadvertently stepping on someone's toes, and have to apologize. And when someone picks up something I've dropped, and I thank him. When I see an elderly man tottering along,and wonder how much longer he has to live. Dogs and cats peeking out from alleyways. A beautiful view from a tall building. The warm blast of air you feel when you go down into a subway station. The phone ringing in the middle of the night. Even when I have crushes on other men, I always see you in the curve of their eyebrows.""Yet I must remain calm, detached. It's a little like trying to ignore a plate of delicious food when you're really hungry. When it beckons you, there's no problem with enjoying the aroma and appreciating it with your eyes, but at some point you have to separate yourself and realize, like a professional waiter does, that it's not your own. It's my job to ignore those plates heaped with delicious morsels and just carry them where they need to go.
— Banana Yoshimoto
It was like this sometimes, and I felt I should look away, but I couldn't. I wanted to be there, having my face touched, defeating a heart like Peter's, but the next best thing was seeing it for Tiger Lily.
— Jodi Lynn Anderson, Tiger Lily
The pain would not leave him. It came to him like the tide that hits the sea.
— Faraaz Kazi, Truly, Madly, Deeply
Tell me, if you thought a man had a tendresse for you, but he wasn't doing anything about it. And you wanted to hurry him up a little so you made a move, an unmistakable move; one that nobody could pretend had been a misunderstanding. And he - he ignored it - ignored you. What would you feel?
— Ahdaf Soueif, Sandpiper
Hunting hawks did not belong in cages, no matter how much a man coveted their grace, no matter how golden the bars. They were far more beautiful soaring free. Heartbreakingly beautiful.
— Lois McMaster Bujold, The Warrior's Apprentice
Eternity has a way of letting us all grow up.
— Shannon L. Alder
...what is the meaning of La Belle Dame Sans Merci? - have you never been enthralled? enchantment that is unrequited desolates the soul...
— John Geddes, A Familiar Rain
She disliked him more for having mastered her inner will. How dared he say that he would love her still, even though she shook him off with contempt? She wished she had spoken more - stronger. Sharp, decisive speeches came thronging to her mind, now that it was too late to utter them. The deep impression made by the interview was like that of a horror in a dream; that will not leave the room although we waken up, and rub our eyes, and force a stiff rigid smile upon our lips. It is there - there, cowering and gibbering, with fixed ghastly eyes, in some corner of the chamber, listening to hear whether we dare to breathe of its presence to anyone. And we dare not; poor cowards that we are!
— Elizabeth Gaskell, North and South
The moment he laid eyes on Kuga, I knew. There's a reason I'm doing this to him. I want to see it; how he's fallen in love with a guy, and how he makes him his own. And then what I've done will become a sharp knife, thrown right back at me.That's right. I just wanted to see.And the meaning behind the sharp knife flying towards me: Why not me? Why can't it be me? All this time, I would be lying if I said I've never wished for it, but by being merely an observer, I've somehow managed to distance myself.Kuga is a bright light, like the sun. I, on the other hand... (Yashiro)
— Kou Yoneda, Twittering Birds Never Fly, Vol.1
This is agony cried Mr Salteena clutching hold of a table my life will be sour grapes and ashes without you.
— Daisy Ashford, The Young Visiters
...I'm the last person to ask about unrequited love - I've run away to the Moon and fled to its valleys...
— John Geddes, A Familiar Rain
There is no such thing as unrequited love; the phrase ought to be stricken from the lexicon. Love is a thing shared, an intertwining of essential separateness into something not quite alone. There is nothing like it under the heavens. Like bread, it will not be made with flour or water alone; the recipe requires both. Guarding each other’s vulnerability provides the yeast that makes it rise, and salt from the tears that caring brings lends the finishing touch.
— Andrew Levkoff, The Other Alexander
The effect on Lucy was not bad, for the faint seemed to merge subtly into the narcotic sleep. It was with a feeling of personal pride that I could see a faint tinge of colour steal back into the pallid cheeks and lips. No man knows, till he experiences it, what it is to feel his own lifeblood drawn away into the veins of the woman he loves.The Professor watched me critically. "That will do," he said. "Already?" I remonstrated. "You took a great deal more from Art." To which he smiled a sad sort of smile as he replied, "He is her lover, her fiance. You have work, much work to do for her and for others, and the present will suffice.
— Bram Stoker, Dracula
Once I saw Graham - wholly unconscious of her proximity - push her with his restless foot. She receded an inch or two. A minute after one little hand stole out from beneath her face, to which it had been pressed, and softly caressed the heedless foot.
— Charlotte Brontë, Villette
Amid the worry of a self- condemnatory soliloquy, his demeanour seemed grave, perhaps cold, both to me and his mother. And yet there was no bad feeling, no malice, no rancour, no littleness in his countenance, beautiful with a man's best beauty, even in its depression. When I placed his chair at the table, which I hastened to do, anticipating the servant, and when I handed him his tea, which I did with trembling care, he said: "Thank you, Lucy," in as kindly a tone of his full pleasant voice as ever my ear welcomed.
— Charlotte Brontë, Villette
He doesn't even like me.I let the thought roll around in my head. Anything I feel during that time gets shoved into the vault with the ten-foot-think door slamming as soon as it goes in, just in case something in there has any intention of crawling out.
— Susan Ee, Angelfall
For the first time she had dimly realized that only the hopeless are starkly sincere and that only the unhappy can either give or take sympathy--even some of the bitter and dangerous voluptuousness of misery.
— Jean Rhys
One sided-love always goes with the urge of possessing.
— Yu-Rang Han, Love in the Mask
Inadequate love is love. Unrequited love is love.
— Lan Samantha Chang, All is Forgotten, Nothing is Lost
It wasn't that long, and it certainly wasn't the kind of kiss you see in movies these days, but it was wonderful in its own way, and all I can remember about the moment is that when our lips touched, I knew the memory would last forever.
— Nicholas Sparks, A Walk to Remember
What about Gale?""He's not a bad kisser either," I say shortly. "And it was okay with both of us? You kissing the other?" He asks. "No. It wasn't okay with either of you. But I wasn't asking your permission," I tell him. Peeta laughs again, coldly, dismissively. "Well, you're a piece of work, aren't you?
— Suzanne Collins, Mockingjay
Biting's excellent. It's like kissing - only there is a winner.
— Neil Gaiman
All the while, my mind reeled with what had hap
— Richelle Mead, The Indigo Spell
I’m not dangerous,” I breathed.He brought his face toward mine. “You are to me.”And somehow, against all reason, we were kissing.
— Richelle Mead, The Indigo Spell
My lips got lost on the way to the kiss - that's how drunk Iwas.
— Jalaluddin Rumi
Adrian Ivashkov wasn’t easy to surprise, but I surprised him then when I brought his mouth toward mine. I kissed him, and for a moment, he was too stunned to respond. That lasted for, oh, about a second. Then the intensity I’d come to know so well in him returned. He pushed me backward, lifting me so that I sat at the table. The tablecloth bunched up, knocking over some of the glasses. I heard what sounded like a china plate crash against the floor.Whatever logic and reason I normally possessed had melted away. There was nothing but flesh and fire left, and I wasn’t going to lie to myself—at least not tonight.
— Richelle Mead, The Indigo Spell
If you ask me to kiss you, I will,” he says.His fingers stroke the inside of my wrists, and I burst into flames.“Kiss me,” I say.He does.
— Stephanie Perkins, Anna and the French Kiss
Her lips touched his brain as they touched his lips, as though they were a vehicle of some vague speech and between them he felt an unknown and timid preasure, darker than the swoon of sin, softer than sound or odor.
— James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Oh, for the Angel's sake. Look, if there's no other way of getting out of this, I'll kiss Simon. I've done it before, it wasn't that bad.""Thanks," said Simon. "That's very flattering.""Well, I'm not kissing the mundane," said Jace. "I'd rather stay down here and rot.""Forever?" said Simon. "Forever's an awfully long time."Jace raised his eyebrows. "I knew it," he said. "You want to kiss me, don't you?"Simon threw up his hands in exasperation. "Of course not. But if—""I guess it's true what they say," observed Jace. "There are no straight men in the trenches.""That's atheists, jackass," said Simon furiously. "There are no atheists in the trenches.
— Cassandra Clare, City of Ashes
And even as I'm kissing him and kissing him and kissing him, I wish I were kissing him, wanting more, more, more, more, like I can't get enough, never will be able to get enough.
— Jandy Nelson, I'll Give You the Sun
I love you."lightning. Once it has forked, hot-white, from sky to earth, there is no going back.It's time. I feel it, I know it. My eyes on him, his on me, and both of us breathing, watching, tired of of waiting. Ky close his eyes, but mine are still open. what will it feel like, his lips on mine? Like a secret told, a promise kept? Like that line in the poem-a shower of all my days- silvery rain falling all around me, where the lighting meets the earth? The whistle blows below us and the moment breaks. We are safe.For now.
— Ally Condie, Matched
He dipped her low and kissed her fiercely, as if he were angry, and each time his lips left hers, even just for half a second, the most parching thirst ran through her, making her cry out.
— Lauren Kate, Fallen
This was the kiss I had waited for so long - a kiss born by the river of our childhood, when we didn't yet know what love meant. A kiss that had been suspended in the air as we grew, that had traveled in the world in the souvenir of a medal, and that had remained hidden behind piles of books. A kiss that had been lost and now was found. In the moment of that kiss were years of searching, disillusionment and impossible dreams.
— Paulo Coelho, By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept
I want to make you faint. I will make you faint. You've had this coming to you for years. None of the fools you've known have kissed you like this - have they? Your precious Charles or Frank or your stupid Ashley... I said your stupid Ashley. Gentlemen all - what do they know about women? What do they know about you? I know you.
— Margaret Mitchell, Gone with the Wind
And without thinking, without planning it, without worrying about the fact that fifty people were watching, Harry kissed her.
— J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince
He’d moved toward me again. His hands released mine and moved to my waist, and I noticed I wasn’t the only one breathing heavily. He pulled me to him, bringing our bodies together. The world was all heat and electricity, thick with tension that was only one spark away from exploding around us. I was balancing on another precipice, which wasn’t easy to do in heels. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and this time I was the one who drew him closer.
— Richelle Mead, The Indigo Spell
We were kissing like it was a long-forgotten language that we'd once been fluent in and were finding again
— Morgan Matson, Since You've Been Gone
I wasn’t aware of just how close he’d moved to me until now. So many details came into focus. The shape of his lips, the line of his neck. “I’m not dangerous,” I breathed.He brought his face toward mine. “You are to me.”And somehow, against all reason, we were kissing. I closed my eyes, and the world around me faded. The noise, the smoke . . . it was gone. All that mattered was the taste of his mouth, a mix of cloves and mints. There was a fierceness in his kiss, a desperation . . . and I answered, just as hungry for him. I didn’t stop him when he pulled me closer, so that I almost sat on his lap. I’d never been wrapped around someone’s body like that, and I was shocked at how eagerly mine responded. His arm went around my waist, pulling me onto him further, and his other hand slid up the back of my neck, getting entangled in my hair. He took his lips away from my mouth, gently trailing kisses down to my neck. I tipped my head back, gasping when the intensity returned to his mouth. There was an animalistic quality that sent shock waves through the rest of my body.
— Richelle Mead, The Indigo Spell
Then he kissed her, not just a brush of lips as she'd done, but a kiss a kiss that scalded her tongue. The tree burst into full blooms. The garden fluttered around her. A riot of flowers shot out of the earth. She was mud-covered as he pulled back.
— Melissa Marr, Fragile Eternity
I pushed passed him. He grabbed my hand and swung me back towards him. Then he pushed me against the wall and... he kissed me.He ran his thumb along my jawline and down my throat, hips pinning me to the wall. He kissed me slowly and with intensity, and once I got over the mind-numbing shock and comprehended what was actually happening, it was incredible. I had never been kissed like that before. We melted together. Every movement of mine was somehow perfectly mirrored by his. My heart was pounding so hard I knew he must be able to feel it and I was sure my legs were giving way, but he held me up, pushed me harder against the wall.I grabbed a handful of his hair, remembering all the times I'd dreamed of doing it. I let my hand drift down his back and pulled him even closer to me. It all happened so quickly. I heard him make a low kind of growl and lean into me. His hand slid down my leg behind my knee, drawing it to him. I moaned and felt him tense.
— Jessica Shirvington, Embrace
You're lips are bloody.' He seized my face in both hands and kissed me. It's hard not to respond when a master of the art of kissing is laying one on you.
— Charlaine Harris, Living Dead in Dallas
You intend to kiss me and yet you are going to all this damn trouble about it.
— William Faulkner
People who throw kisses are hopelessly lazy.
— Bob Hope
After you, it's all cheap tequila.
— Jacqueline Carey, Santa Olivia
If the guy likes/loves you, he won't care if you are a good kisser or not.He should like you for what you are - not how you kiss.
— Meg Cabot, Princess in Love
They were close enough that he could feel the hurried beat of her heart. He could feel Charlotte's indecision in every word she didn't say and every move she didn't make. She was tense with uncertainty, quivering with irresolution. She might not be leaning into him, but she wasn't pulling away, either.
— Lauren Willig, The Temptation of the Night Jasmine
I was Amazement--I was Desire--I was Ecstasy and Rapture and the slightest bit of Greed.
— Sharon Shinn, Jenna Starborn
Are you still faint from the run? Or was it my kissing expertise?
— Stephenie Meyer, Twilight
I loved the kiss. That's why I smiled at you. I loved it. I was embarrassed by how much I loved it. (Troy Summer)
— Suzanne Selfors, Saving Juliet
Running at Ron, she flung them around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth. Ron threw away the fangs and broomstick he was holding and responded with such enthusiasm that he lifted Hermione off her feet.
— J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
I think kissing is what separates us from the animals and makes us divine.
— Robert Goolrick, The End of the World as We Know It: Scenes from a Life
Myrnin came in from the back room, carrying a load of books, which he dropped with aloud bang on the floor to glare at the two of them. "Excuse me," he said, "but when did my labbecome appropriate for snogging?""What's snogging?" Shane asked."Ridiculous displays of inappropriate affection in front of me. Roughly translated. Andwhat are you doing here?
— Rachel Caine
It's hard not to respond when a master of the art of kissing is laying one on you.
— Charlaine Harris, Living Dead in Dallas
Peter curled his hands into fists at his sides. 'Kiss me,' he said.She leaned towards him slowly, until her face was too close to be in focus. Her hair fell over Peter's shoulder like a curtain and her eyes closed. She smelled like autumn-like apple cider and slanting sun and the snap of the coming cold. He felt his heart scrambling, caught inside the confines of his own body.Josie's lips landed just on the edge of his, almost his cheek and not quite his mouth. 'I'm glad I wasn't stuck in here alone,' she said shyly, and he tasted the words, sweet as mint on her breath.
— Jodi Picoult, Nineteen Minutes
Fifteen minutes later I was an expert. That's all you need. I think I was even getting the upper hand, which is very simple with a guy. Anything seems to turn them on.
— Melina Marchetta, Looking for Alibrandi
Which is a sad thing when you're only seventeen.
— Cinda Williams Chima, The Exiled Queen
His kiss was fierce, desperate, and slow, drugging. A shudder passed through me, warming my body from the inside out. All my defenses dissolved. We started making out again and I let Trent slip his hand inside my top. This time, when he kissed me, something inside me awoke and a shudder warmed my skin. Our kisses got more passionate and hotter. His fingers slid over my bra, and a turbulent ache burned through my body.
— Sherry Soule, Beautifully Broken - Retitled, WITCY WICKEDNESS
He wanted to draw out the moment before the moment- because as good as kissing feels, nothing feels as good as the anticipation of it.
— John Green, An Abundance of Katherines
What makes the perfect kiss? Closing your eyes when you kiss is important. Or lifting up the leg, but that's more of a girl thing, I'm manly. Passion is good! She brings out the best in me. (Selena)
— Justin Bieber
You should be kissed and often, by someone who knows how.
— Margaret Mitchell
When they kissed she immediately felt his tongue, tensed and strong, pushing past her teeth, like some bully shouldering his way into a room. Entering her.
— Ian McEwan, On Chesil Beach
In my life I doubt if I will ever forget the sensation of your lips against mine
— Novala Takemoto, Missin' (Novel)
He cups my facewith both handsleans in,eyes lingering asweet secondbefore his lips are there on mine,teasing, playing, tasting, kissing.When he pulls away,I'm breathless.He nuzzles my ear."Now that's thrilling."You got that right.
— Lisa Schroeder, The Day Before
What did I think I was doing? What did she think she was doing? When I want to kiss people in that way now, with mouths and tongues and all that, it's because I want other things too: sex, Friday nights at the cinema, company and conversation, fused networks of family and friends, Lemsips brought to me in bed when I am ill, a new pair of ears for my records and CDs, maybe a little boy called Jack and a little girl called Holly or Maisie, I haven't decided yet. But I didn't want any of those things from Alison Ashworth. Not children, because we were children, and not Friday nights at the pictures, because we went Saturday mornings, and not Lemsips, because my mum did that, not even sex, especially not sex, please God not sex, the filthiest and most terrifying invention of the early seventies.
— Nick Hornby, High Fidelity
Watching a make-out while wrapped in a blanket with a guy she wanted to make out with made her feel exposed. Obvious. Transparent. Like her thoughts were flashing before his eyes.Finally Brett managed to pull away without consent of Bekka's lips. The confusion created a sloppy bite-a-juicy-peach sound. Everyone cringed.
— Lisi Harrison, Monster High
Kissing girls is easy, like breaking windows.
— Joey Comeau, One Bloody Thing After Another
I remembered Ignifex's smirk and his confident words: I can wait all I want and still have you.  And I thought, Here is one thing he isn't getting. Standing on my toes, I kissed Shade on the lips.  It was just a bump of my face against his. Despite Aunt Telomache's lecture, I had no idea how long to prolong a kiss, and his lips startled me, foreign and cool as glass. But then he caught me under the chin and gently kissed my mouth open. Though his lips were still cool, his breath was warm; as he kissed me. I breathed in time to him, until I felt like my body was only a breath of air mixing with his.
— Rosamund Hodge, Cruel Beauty
Does it bother you when you see Daddy kissing Josh?” he asked.Ty shook his head and made a funny face. “No, not really. I guess you really like him a lot.”“I do,” Rex agreed. “I love Josh.”“I love Josh too, and so I don’t care if you kiss him. But I thought boys only kissed girls.”Rex nodded. “Yeah, well, that’s how it is most of the time, but you know some boys kiss other boys and some girls kiss other girls.”“Well, I don’t wanna kiss no girls!” Ty said emphatically.Rex and Josh both laughed. “Maybe someday you will, though. If you do, that’s fine, and if you don’t, that’s fine too. For right now, you can just kiss Daddy.” He leaned in and kissed Ty on the forehead.
— Jeff Erno, We Danced
I will only be offended if you refuse to kiss me again, as then I'll be convinced I'm a failure at it.
— Eve Edwards, The Queen's Lady
He leaned down, far enough that the dark ends of his hair brushed feather-light against her face, caught in her lashes, She had just enough time to take in a breath, to blink, to part her lips before he took them with his own. Time froze. Her heart ceased to beat. Her eyes fluttered shut.The cool slip of the small metal loop pressed into her skin as he kissed her. Urgent.Gentle.So slow.Sweet, soft demolition.He tasted of cloves and coffee. And of something else. A farawat essence, familiar and yet somehow foreign, too. Something sere and arid. A little like some. A little like decayAsh.
— Kelly Creagh
No," interrupted Marcia emphatically. "And you're a sweet boy. Come here and kiss me."Horace stopped quickly in front of her."Why do you want me to kiss you?" he asked intently. "Do you just go round kissing people?""Why, yes," admitted Marcia, unruffled. "'At's all life is. Just going around kissing people.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald
Why should I care about you first kiss,' he said. 'You can kiss anyone you like. But sometimes if you wanted to kiss me, that would be all right, too.
— Catherynne M. Valente, The Girl Who Fell Beneath Fairyland and Led the Revels There
You and me,” he echoed, tilting my face up to his. I stared back into his eyes. They were clear of sleep and nightmares now. “Always.” I told him, my lips curving into a smile. That had been his line once, now it was mine. “Always,” Balik murmured against my jawbone the words grazing my skin as I arched my neck backwards. “You and me, always.” His whisper mingled with the kisses he brushed along my throat. I closed my eyes and drifted away with him.
— Melanie Cusick-Jones, Outlanders
And then that mouth was speaking Russian, rough, sexy, sweet nothings that drove her wild. Forced out all common sense. His mouth trailed her jaw, delivering little nips and hot licks to her neck.“Bella”—something in Russian—“Bella”—more Russian—“Bella.” As if one language was inadequate to express how she affected him.
— Kate Meader, So Over You
Delicately, she parted her lips, swept them against his, and kissed first his top, then the bottom. Letting her lead, he pinched his brows together and held still. She didn’t come at him with fire. She told him a story. And he’d be damned if it didn’t start with once upon a time like she were proving he was some kind of hero. Specifically, hers.
— Kelly Moran, Redemption
And now that I've been exposed to this feeling, perfect mouth against perfect mouth, the natural order of things, I wonder why people don't kiss all day, every day. How does anything ever get done?
— Julie Buxbaum, What to Say Next
Kissing is just another way of talking expect without the words.
— Nicola Yoon, The Sun Is Also a Star
Danny had never been so aware for anyone else in his life. Everything shrank from a universe to a pinpoint, every turn of the earth dependent on his next breath, each touch lingering until those eyes found his. Colton pressed a hand to Danny’s chest and laid his mouth gently against his. Danny wasn’t prepared for it—the reminder that Colton was not like him, that his palms were smooth and free of flaws, that his wrist showed no veins, that his mouth tasted of copper and of sweet clean air. He was a boy of air and dust and sunlight. Everything that had gone into the making of the world.
— Tara Sim, Timekeeper
The clock chimed five. It sounded almost celebratory as they stood there, hands clasped between them like the meeting of continents. Colton’s mouth was soft and warm, sunlight on silk. Danny was swallowing light. It dived down inside of him until he imagined it bursting out of every pore.
— Tara Sim, Timekeeper
I could stay here forever interrupting our talking with kissing, interrupting our kissing with talking.
— Nicola Yoon
But before, not so long ago - my own rose from prom still OK on the mirror, dried but not a corpse - you were just Ed Slaterton, jocky hero, handsome in the student newspaper and star of a million strands of gossip. Now Annette was a person to me, standing right there, and not just an oh-my-God-have-you-heard, and I tried to put it together in my head, the print and the negative, the boyfriend and the celebrity shadow, like Theodora Sire sat next to me in history, borrowing pencils, but was still a movie star above my bed. Because as you came out of the dark to me, you were the boy I was kissing and wanted to kiss more, back to find me at a party like anybody might do, but you were Ed Slaterton too, and not the cad you are now, but just Ed Slaterton, co-captain, with a beer in your hand and Jillian Beach on your arm.
— Daniel Handler, Why We Broke Up
Not forever,” he said onto my mouth.And though I knew it was a lie, I put my arms around his neck and kissed him.He pulled me onto his lap, holding me tightly against him as his lips parted mine. I became aware of every pore in my body when his tongue entered my mouth.Though the horror of Rhysand’s magic still tore at me, I pushed Tamlin onto the bed, straddling him, pinning him as if it would somehow keep me from leaving, as if it would make time stop entirely.His hands rested on my hips, and their heat singed me through the thin silk of my nightgown. My hair fell around our faces like a curtain. I couldn’t kiss him fast enough, hard enough to express the rushing need within me. He growled softly and deftly flipped us over, spreading me beneath him as he wrenched his lips from my mouth and made a trail of kisses down my neck.My entire world constricted to the touch of his lips on my skin. Everything beyond them, beyond him, was a void of darkness and moonlight. My back arched as he reached the spot he’d once bitten, and I dragged my hands through his hair, savoring the silken smoothness.He traced the arc of my hipbones, lingering at the edge of my undergarments. My nightgown had become hitched around my waist, but I didn’t care. I hooked my bare legs around his, running my feet down the hard muscles of his calves.He breathed my name onto my chest, one of his hands exploring the plane of my torso, rising up to the slope of my breast. I trembled, anticipating the feel of his hand there, and his mouth found mine again as his fingers stopped just below.His kissing was slower this time—gentler. The fingertips of his other hand slipped beneath the waist of my undergarment, and I sucked in a breath.He hesitated at the sound, pulling back slightly. But I bit his lip in a silent command that had him growling into my mouth. With one long claw, he shredded through silk and lace, and my undergarment fell away in pieces. The claw retracted, and his kiss deepened as his fingers slid between my legs, coaxing and teasing. I ground against his hand, yielding completely to the writhing wildness that had roared alive inside me, and breathed his name onto his skin.He paused again—his fingers retracting—but I grabbed him, pulling him farther on top of me. I wanted him now—I wanted the barriers of our clothing to vanish, I wanted to taste his sweat, wanted to become full of him.
— Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses
As he was bringing his hands up her sides, his fingers just barely brushed the outer curve of her breasts, and she gasped into his mouth.Shane immediately sat her upright, and moved to the other end of the couch. His face was flushed; his eyes were bright and no longer looked even a little bit tired. “No,’” he said, and held out his hand like a traffic cop when she tried to scoot closer. “Red flag. If you make that sound again, we are in trouble. Or I am, anyway.
— Rachel Caine, The Dead Girls' Dance
I saw only a flash of green and gold before the warmth of Tamlin’s body slammed into me and our lips met.I couldn’t kiss him deeply enough, couldn’t hold him tightly enough, couldn’t touch enough of him. Words weren’t necessary.I tore at his shirt, needing to feel the skin beneath one last time, and I had to stifle the moan that rose up in me as he grasped my breast. I didn’t want him to be gentle—because what I felt for him wasn’t at all like that. What I felt was wild and hard and burning, and so he was with me.He tore his lips from mine and bit my neck—bit it as he had on Fire Night. I had to grind my teeth to keep myself from moaning and giving us away. This might be the last time I touched him, the last time we could be together. I wouldn’t waste it.My fingers grappled with his belt buckle, and his mouth found mine again. Our tongues danced—not a waltz or a minuet, but a war dance, a death dance of bone drums and screaming fiddles.I wanted him—here.I hooked a leg around his middle, needing to be closer, and he ground his hips harder against me, crushing me into the icy wall. I pried the belt buckle loose, whipping the leather free, and Tamlin growled his desire in my ear—a low, probing sort of sound that made me see red and white and lightning.
— Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses
Forget about that and kiss me," I say.I weave my hands in her hair. She wraps her arms around my neck as I trace the valley between her lips with my tongue. Parting her lips, I deepen the kiss. It's like a tango, first moving slow and rhythmic and then, when we're both panting and our tongues collide, the kiss turns into a hot, fast dance I never want to end. Carmen's kisses may have been hot, but Brittany's are more sensual, sexy, and extremely addictive.We're still in the car, but it's cramped and the front seats don't give us enough room. Before I know it, we've moved to the backseat. Still not ideal, but I hardly notice.I'm so getting into her moans and kisses and hands in my hair. And the smell of vanilla cookies. I'm not going to push her too far tonight. But without thinking, my hand slowly moves up her bare thigh."It feels so good," she says breathlessly.I lean her back while my hands explore on their own. My lips caress the hollow of her neck as I ease down the strap to her dress and bra. In response, she unbuttons my shirt. When it's open, her fingers roam over my chest and shoulders, searing my skin."You're . . . perfect," she 
— Simone Elkeles, Perfect Chemistry
I'm willing to find out what this thing is going on between us. Are you?""If we weren't outside," he says, "I'd show you--"I cut him off by grabbing the thick hair at the base of his neck and pulling that gorgeous head of his down. If we can't exactly have privacy right now, I'll settle for being real. Besides, everyone who we need to keep this a secret from is in school.Alex keeps his hands at his side, but when I part my lips, he groans against my mouth and his wrench drops to the ground with a loud clink.His strong hands wrap around me, making me feel protected. His velvet tongue mingles with mine, creating an unfamiliar melting sensation deep within my body. This is more than making out, it's . . . well, it feels like a lot more.His hands never stop moving; one circles my back while the other plays with my hair.Alex isn't the only one exploring. My hands are roving all over him, feeling his muscles tense beneath my hands and heightening my awareness of him. I touch his jaw and the roughness of a day's growth scratches my skin
— Simone Elkeles, Perfect Chemistry
I feel shock splinter through him, his body going rigid. Then he relaxes, melting into me, stepping forward until I am caught between him and the wall, the torch crackling beside me. His hands slide down my back, over my hips and thighs, leaving a trail of fire. His heart beats fast enough for the both of us, its thunderous pulse echoing through me.I bury my hands in his dark hair, fingers knotting around those thick locks. Desire pulls at my stomach, and I lean into him, lifting one leg and wrapping it around his waist. He lifts me, and my other leg coils around him, my skirts sliding up my thighs, my back pressed against the column.His lips are soft and warm and gentle, underlined with barely restrained urgency. I cannot get enough of him. I pull his kurta over his head and let it fall on the floor. I press my hands against his bared chest, feel his heart against my palm, his lungs rising and falling. His shoulder is knotted with the scar from the arrow he took for me. He kisses me again, this time more strongly, and I run my hands down his jaw and neck, over his shoulders, the taut muscles of his back.He turns, without letting me go or breaking our kiss, and we tumble onto the soft divan. Aladdin holds himself over me, his abdomen clenched and his hair hanging across his forehead. His lips wander downward, to my chin, to the curve of my jaw, to my neck.My hands are ravenous, exploring the planes and angles of his body. His fingers find mine, and our hands knit together. He raises them over my head, pressing them into the pillow beneath my hair, as his kisses trace my collarbone, and then he sinks lower, parting the buttons of my dress and pressing his lips to my bare stomach.I gasp and open my eyes wide, my borrowed body coursing with sensations I have never felt, never dared to feel, never thought I could feel.“Aladdin,” I murmur. “We shouldn’t . . .”“Sh.” He silences me with a kiss, and I lift my chin to meet him. A warm wind rushes through my body, stirring embers and setting them aflame. I don’t want to stop. I don’t want to think about consequences. I only want Aladdin, everywhere.
— Jessica Khoury, The Forbidden Wish