A Quote by H. L. Mencken

The first kiss is stolen by the man; the last is begged by the woman. — © H. L. Mencken
The first kiss is stolen by the man; the last is begged by the woman.
In some way, a photo is like a stolen kiss. In fact a kiss is always stolen, even if the woman is consenting. With a photograph it's the same: always stolen, and still slightly consenting.
The mother's first kiss teaches the child love; the first holy kiss of the woman he loves teaches man hope and faith in life.
I was seventeen and the star of my high school play. I was supposed to kiss my leading man, but I couldn't stand the guy. I really didn't want to kiss him. All during rehearsals, I refused to kiss him. Then my drama teacher told me, "If you don't kiss him on opening night, you'll flunk drama class. So I kissed him, and that was my first kiss.
When we fall in love and we have a first kiss with someone, we never ever imagine that someday that could be a last kiss.
Stolen sweets are always sweeter, Stolen kisses much completer, Stolen looks are nice in chapels, Stolen, stolen be your apples.
For repeating themselves from the first kiss to the last sigh, the average man's love affairs have History blushing with envy.
I had read the criticisms of me and my movies and they were discerning. They said that Crawford needs a new deal, and they asked if I was doomed to explore forever the emotional misfortunes of the super-sexed modern young woman. And so, to break away from the pattern, I wanted to do "The Gorgeous Hussy". Selznick laughed at me. 'You can't do a costume picture. You're too modern.' But I begged and begged and begged, and so they let me do it. I was totally miscast.
The mother's first kiss teaches the child love; the first holy kiss of the woman he loves teaches man hope and faith in life; and love and faith create a desire for perfection and the power of reaching towards it step by step; create the future, in short, of which the living symbol is the child, link between us and the generations to come.
My first on-screen kiss was lame: Nickelodeon. But my first real-life kiss was super cute and nice, but still very awkward. It was with this hot skateboarder with dreadlocks. He was my little Rasta man.
There is the kiss of welcome and of parting, the long, lingering, loving, present one; the stolen, or the mutual one; the kiss of love, of joy, and of sorrow; the seal of promise and receipt of fulfillment.
In the last camp they all ate grass, until the authorities forbade them to pull it up. They were accustomed to having the fruits of their little communal gardens stolen by the guards, after they had done all the work; but at the last camp everything was stolen.
This is stolen? We're in a stolen jet?" "Not stolen," said Donegan Bane from the co-pilot's seat. "Almost stolen," Grascious corrected. "Semi-stolen," said Donegan. "Quasi stolen," said Grascious. Aurora's frown did not turn upside down. "So is it stolen or not?" Donegan and Grascious hesitated. "Yes,"they both said toghether.
Did we kiss last night?" "Yes." "Well, it wasn't memorable because I have no recollection of it." He laughs. "I was kiddin'. We didn't kiss." He leans in. "When we kiss you'll remember it.Forever.
This is the first kiss that we're both fully aware of. Neither of us hobbled by sickness or pain or simply unconscious. Our lips neither burning with fever or icy cold. This is the first kiss where I actually feel stirring inside my chest. Warm and curious. This is the first kiss that makes me want another.
I know that the only completely happy life for man and for woman is their life, first together, and then with their children. I am a firm believer that no marriage can be really happy, and no home a happy one for the children as well, unless man puts woman first and woman puts man first, each for the other the giver of every good gift. Children are the fruit of this total love.
It was as if nothing quite erased the initial shock of being kissed by someone who was not hers, a kiss that was stolen, claimed from her flippantly, a kiss so abrasively illicit that she seemed to deserve it, as though she was not worth much to begin with.
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