A Quote by Drew Barrymore

Kisses, even to the air, are beautiful. — © Drew Barrymore
Kisses, even to the air, are beautiful.
I have had passionate kisses and fierce ones, kisses so sweet they tasted like pure honey and kisses that cut like knives, but until this moment, I’ve never had one that said both hello and good-bye.
One day you do meet a man who kisses you and you can't breathe around it and you realize you don't need air.
I was the first companion to kiss the Doctor. I played Grace Holloway to Paul McGann's Doctor in the 1996 TV movie. We shared three kisses, in fact: very sweet and chaste. When I took the part, I'd never even heard of 'Doctor Who.' No one warned me that the kisses would be a big deal.
My childhood memories are filled with hugs and kisses from both my mum and dad. My mum has a thing about kissing you an odd number of times: if she kisses you once, all good, but if she kisses you twice, then you know another one has to follow and, weirdly, she tends to go for the forehead.
...if you wish to get pure air into your room, or if you go for a walk in the fresh air, think of the pure and of the unclean heart. Many of us like to have pure air in the room (and this is an excellent habit), or are fond of walking in the fresh air, but they do not even think of the necessity of the purity of the spirit or heart (of, so to say, spiritual air, the breath of life); and, living in the fresh air, they allow themselves to indulge in impure thoughts, impure movements of the heart, and even impurity of language, and most impure carnal actions.
The beauty of the air, from the air... You haven't seen Australia unless you see it from the air. The coastline, the colours of the inland. The claypans, the forests. It's just all so beautiful. You'd never see that from the road. People climb mountains to see these things. You see that every time you take off.
He kisses her. She kisses him. They kiss.
Only air power can defeat air power. The actual elimination or even stalemating of an attacking air force can be achieved only by a superior air force.
Air is beautiful, yet you cannot see it. It's soft, yet you cannot touch it. Air is a little like my brain.
There are two ways to reach me: by way of kisses or by way of the imagination. But there is a hierarchy: the kisses alone don't work.
Openly I whispered and breathed a big gulp of air and saw all the beautiful trees and birds which surrounded me. The morning was beautiful like your smile.
It's so beautiful at this hour. The sun is low, the shadows are long, the air is cold and clean. You won't be awake for another five hours, but I can't help feeling that we're sharing this clear and beautiful morning.
Kisses open doors, I've noticed. That one gesture can unlock secrets, ease open feelings. It can't be prevented--these kisses just are. It's how they work. They break into basements you never knew you had.
I could have kisses like that for the rest of my life. Kisses that don't know who I am. Kisses that make me feel more and less than what I am. But my finger tap tap taps on my leg and reminds me that I am not who Adam thinks I am, and it makes me want to cry. It's not that I don't deserve his kiss. It's that the person I am can never really share a life, a soul, with the person he is.
Sunsets and death; death and therefore kisses, kisses and consequently birth and then death for yet another generation of sunset watchers.
It is beautiful to talk about beautiful things And even more beautiful to silently gaze at them.
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