A Quote by Eric Weddle
If I don't trim the upper lip, my wife wouldn't kiss me. You have to take into account her needs as well.
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My wife is so stupendously ugly it is easier to take her with me than to kiss her goodbye.
My wife's the ugliest woman in the world - I'd sooner take her with me on tour, than kiss her goodbye.
She chews her lip, staring into my eyes. "Okay... Why did you kiss me in Austin?" I laugh softly and she frowns. "Sorry. That one's too easy." My gaze flicks to her mouth and back. "I'd wanted to kiss you ever since Quinton suggested playing spin the bottle, and by that night in your room, I'd run out of willpower to fight it.
What it was like to kiss Matt Damon? You know, it doesn't matter, does it, if it's a man or a woman. It's a kiss. We had to show affection in some places, love, passion in other places. A kiss is just a kiss. I mean, we'd have our fun. You know, "Matt, what flavour lip gloss would you like me to wear today?" When I see the movie I'm so proud that a few minutes go by and I forget that it's Matt and I, and halfway through I forget it's two guys. The arguments sound the same as arguments a guy has with his wife.
And okay, fine. If you have to kiss her, you have to kiss her. And believe me, I do not envy you. That's taking one for the team a little far. I mean, I think I'd rather endure the stabbing myself instead of having to kiss her.
If I walk in the house, and I greet my wife, and I give her a hug, kiss her on the cheek, and I say to her, "Honey, how'd your day go," and I listed to how her day went. If I say, "Is there anything I can do to help you," and she tells me, "Honey, if you could peel the potatoes," or whatever, I have influenced my wife in a very positive way.
I don't have to 'freedom-kiss' my wife when what I really want to do is French-kiss her.
You don't look so hot, Adrien." "Yeah, well I'm having a bad heart day." His upper lip curled in a semblance of a smile. "Tell me about it.
We kissed, then, and the ardour of her kiss stole my breath away. I returned her passion with all the fervor I possessed. A lifetime of vows and heart-felt disciplines had prepared me well, for in that kiss I sealed with all my soul the fate before me, embracing a mystery clothed in warm and yielding female flesh. Holding only the moment, with neither thought nor care for the future, I kissed her, and drank deep the strong wine of desire.
And I definitely do that very British thing of, take things with a pinch of salt, stiff upper lip, you know what I mean?
I was putting on a stiff upper lip and trying to fulfill the obligations I thought were demanded of me, taking over my father's role of taking care of my mother... and having to be the recipient of her confessions and emotions but of a delusional nature.
And what is a kiss, specifically? A pledge properly sealed, a promise seasoned to taste, a vow stamped with the immediacy of a lip, a rosy circle drawn around the verb 'to love.' A kiss is a message too intimate for the ear, infinity captured in the bee's brief visit to a flower, secular communication with an aftertaste of heaven, the pulse rising from the heart to utter its name on a lover's lip: 'Forever.
I'm trying to think how I impressed my wife. We had an on-stage kiss, and I really went for it. Because I liked her. Usually you can get away with it being just technical, but it was a problem when I ended up kissing my wife on the set. I'd say I stopped acting and kissed her on set.
What do you think? Does everything look right? " " You really expect me to look at anything but you? " She laughed even as her pulse jittered. " Boy, I must be in bad shape when a shopworn line like that hits the mark. " " I mean it, " he said and watched her smile fade. " I adore looking at you. " Laying a hand on her knees with a long, slow, thorough kiss. " Beautiful Margo. mine. " " Well, you're certainly taking my mind off my ... kiss me again. " " Glad to.
The wife whose sweetly given reply in the face of any problem would be, "Whatever you think is best, dear." Women, take note: a wife like that never needs to fear bubbling away the last of her life through a cut throat.
The king lifted a hand to her cheek and kissed her. It was not a kiss between strangers, not even a kiss between a bride and groom. It was a kiss between a man and his wife, and when it was over, the king closed his eyes and rested his forehead in the hollow of the queen's shoulder, like a man seeking respite, like a man reaching home at the end of the day.
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