A Quote by George Crabbe
See Time has touched me gently in his race,
And left no odious furrows in my face.
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With the most infinite tenderness I have ever known in my life, he put his arms around me, gently, gently, and I embraced him around the neck, and we touched.
We see time's furrows on another's brow, And death intrench'd, preparing his assault; How few themselves in that just mirror see!
No," Dimitri interrupted gently. He moved his face toward mine, our foreheads nearly touching. "It won't happen to you. You're too strong. You'll fight it, just like you did this time." "I only did because you were here." He wrapped his arms around me, and I buried my face in his chest. "I can't do it by myself," I whispered. "You can," he said. There was a tremulous note in his voice. "You're strong—you're so, so strong. It's why I love you.
He gently touched his mother's cheek, felt her sorrow slip over his fingertips.
She turned to face him. She reached over and touched his hand, hesitantly, gently, amazed that after all these years had somehow known exactly what she'd needed to hear. When their eyes locked, she once again realized how special he was. And just for a fleeting moment, a tiny wisp of time that hung in the air like fireflies in summer skies, she wondered if she was in love with him again.
Because I'm playing Dirk Gently [ in Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency], I'm so fond of Dirk. I really see Dirk's vulnerability, and you get that, more and more. You'll start to see a little bit more of Dirk's backstory, why he behaves the way he does, and why he's doing what he's doing. I see a lot of his vulnerability, his sensitivity and his insecurity.
He touched her as he usually touched his beloved violin, with a soft and urgent grace that left her breathless.
I want to see you again." He stopped, took her face in his hands. "I need to see you again." Her pulse jumped, as if it had nothing to do with the rest of her. "Roarke, what's going on here?" "Lieutenant." He leaned forward, touched his lips to hers. "indications are we're having a romance.
I turned around slowly, and looked up at him. He stiffened and sucked in a shallow breath. After a moment, he touched my cheek. "Such naked pain," he whispered. I turned my face into his palm and closed my eyes. His fingers threaded into my hair, cupped my head, and brushed the brand. It heated at his touch. His hand tightened at the base of my skull and squeezed, and he raised me slowly to my tiptoes. I opened my eyes and it was my turn to inhale sharply. Not human. Oh, no, not this man. "Never show it to me again." His face was cold, hard, his voice colder.
If I try to summon back his face, the sound of his voice, and the sensation in my stomach like a key turning in a lock when he touched me, I lose everything.
A man touched me: his hand... my thigh. I touched him too: my fist... his jaw.
Kirpal's left hand swoops down and catches the dropped fork an inch from the floor and gently passes it into the fingers of his daughter, a wrinkle at the edge of his eyes behind his spectacles.
Gently, I ran my hand across his chest, exploring it. My breath felt tight in my throat. He was so beautiful. His muscles were toned, defined, his skin warm and smooth. Stroking my palm up over the line of his collarbone, I felt the firmness of his shoulder, the strength of his bicep. I traced my fingers over the black AK, following the lines of the letters. Alex hardly moved as I touched him, his eyes never leaving me. Finally I sighed and dropped my hand. I tried to smile. "I've sort of been wanting to do that ever since that first night in the motel room," I admitted.
Griffin, please,” she whispered. “Do you want me?” he asked. “Yes!” She tossed her head restlessly. She’d explode if he didn’t give her release soon. “Do you need me?” He kissed her nipple too gently. “Please, please, please.” “Do you love me?” And somehow, despite her extremis, she saw the gaping hole of the trap. She peered up at him blindly in the dark. She couldn’t see his face, his expression. “Griffin,” she sighed hopelessly. “You can’t say it, can you?” he whispered. “Can’t admit it either.
After college I picked my races to be one race every two weeks. That gave me time to recover. I raced just as fast as my legs would carry me. At the end of every race there was nothing left. I walked off the track completely spent!
My favorite emoji is definitely the sad face, like the 'See, I'm sorry' sad face, which I use all the time... Or the monkey face, where he's covering his eyes.
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