A Quote by Katherine Heigl

A girl told me my lips looked like somebody had pressed strawberry yogurt against my face. — © Katherine Heigl
A girl told me my lips looked like somebody had pressed strawberry yogurt against my face.
I wanted to die, then. I wanted to destroy the body I was trapped in, become what she was, no matter what it took. No matter how much mutilation or pain. But he looked away, at me. He pulled my face down and pressed my lips against his like he was almost trying to suffocate us both.
I moved his hair out of his face. I put my hand under his nose and felt gentle, even breaths. I pressed my lips against his ear and whispered again, It’s not your fault. Perhaps this was really the only thing I had ever wanted to say to anyone, and be told.
Guys never looked at me. I always had crushes on older seniors who never looked at me. So, when I tell directors that I wanna play that girl who gets rejected, they're like, 'Why?' I tell them it's because I relate to that girl much more than being the girl who makes jaws drop when she walks into a room.
His lips pressed against her forehead and she felt him smile against her skin. "Believe me...the only place in the world I want to be is wherever you are." -Grant Morgan
I pictured a girl who made every moment, everything she touched, and everyone around her feel lighter and sweeter. “I pictured you,” he said. “I just didn’t know what you looked like. “And then, when I did know what you looked like, you looked like the girl who was all those things. You looked like the girl I loved.
I was always told yogurt had to be sweet to appeal to Americans. But when people go to Turkey or Greece, within 15 minutes of their return, they start talking about how much they enjoyed the yogurt there.
Are you kidding?" She looked at me as if I'd just dropped from the moon. Her cheeks were bright red. "What's the problem now?" I demanded. "Me, go with you to the...the 'Thrill Ride of Love'? How embarrassing is that? What if somebody saw me?" "Who's going to see you?" But my face was burning now, too. Leave it to a girl to make everything complicated. "Fine," I told her. "I'll do it myself." But when I started down the side of the pool, she followed me, muttering about how boys always messed things up.
The eunuch had looked death in the face, so near he might have kissed her on the lips.
Don't leave me, Rainbow Girl." Rainbow Girl. Was that who I was? It seemed so long ago. I smiled faintly. "Remember the skirt I wore to Mallucé's the night you told me to dress Goth?" "It's upstairs in your closet. Never throw it away. It looked like a wet dream on you.
Soft lips are big for me. Not a whole lot of lip gloss. You don't want your first good kiss to taste like strawberry shortcake!
Adam lay perfectly still, little groans escaping from his lips. I looked at the bow, looked at my hands, looked at Adam's face and felt this surge of love, lust, and an unfamiliar feeling of power.
There is nothing particularly wrong with salmon, of course, but like caramel candy, strawberry yogurt, or liquid carpet cleaner, if you eat too much of it you are not going to enjoy your meal.
I had that Restylane stuff. It looked fake to me. I didn't like that. But it went away in, like, four months. My lips are back to what they were. Thank God!
Branding is everything. A young girl once came up to me and told me I could be famous because I looked just like Richard Branson!
"Are you trying to tell me that you've never been kissed?" I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth. He looked so dubious, and his tone had bordered on insulting. "Yeah. So?" "So, I'm shocked, that's all. You're...you." In-sul-ting. "Me?" I asked stiffly. "Yeah. Hot," he said. Wait. Me? Hot? He laughed down at me. "No one's told you that, either, have they?" I could only shake my head. "You've clearly been hanging around idiots."
It felt like everything was rising up in me, like I was drowning in this weirdly painful joy, but I couldn't say it back. I just looked at him and let him look at me until he nodded, lips pursed and turned away, placing the side of his head against the window.
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