A Quote by Rita Rudner
You know it's love when you want to keep holding hands even after you're sweaty.
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She was terrific to hold hands with. Most girls if you hold hands with them, their goddam hand dies on you, or else they think they have to keep moving their hand all the time, as if they were afraid they'd bore you or something. Jane was different. We'd get into a goddam movie or something, and right away we'd start holding hands, and we wouldn't quit till the movie was over. And without changing the position or making a big deal out of it. You never even worried, with Jane, whether your hand was sweaty or not. All you knew was, you were happy. You really were.
We'll walk together holding hands, and kiss in broad daylight, and love each other as much as we want to, and no one will ever try to keep up apart.
I looked at other couples and wondered how they could be so calm about it. They held hands as if they weren't even holding hands. When Steve and I held hands, I had to keep looking down to marvel at it. There was my hand, the same hand I've always had - oh, but look! What is it holding? It's holding Steve's hand! Who is Steve? My three-dimensional boyfriend. Each day I wondered what would happen next. What happens when you stop wanting, when you are happy. I supposed I would go on being happy forever. I knew I would not mess things up by growing bored. I had done that once before.
We walked back to iDEATH, holding hands. Hands are very nice things, especially after they have travelled back from making love.
True love doesn't consist of holding hands, it consists of holding hearts.
I love you. And I'm going to keep loving you even after you don't know I exist.
I want to know if you can get up after a night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and be sweet to the ones you love. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and truly like the company you keep in the empty moments of your life.
I don't know whether the bird you are holding is dead or alive, but what I do know is that it is in your hands. It is in your hands.
"Don't let go!" he orders. Harper's hand is dry and soothing, while mine is sweaty with fear. We've never held hands before. I think about what it means in the village when boys and girls only a few years older then Harper and me wander around with their hands clasped together. They're always peering dreamily into each other's eyes, sneaking sky kisses...and soon after, there's a wedding.
I just want to say we support the troops and we love every one of them. Even if they...I know a lot of my friends that are in the military that they don't agree with...Some of them are total, total liberals or this or that, whatever they are and I just want to say that we love all the troops. We don't care what they believe in, they're defending our country and we love them for that. And they're the biggest bad assses...in the world and we just want to thank you. We hope they enjoy the music and we'll keep pumping it out and just keep staying bad asses!
I'm not in the business of holding people's hands after I've expressed to them my needs numerous times.
Love's more than holding hands and going to dances. It's two people who struggle to live, even when they should maybe both be dead. When one of them would be better off dead.
Religion has been a powerful weapon in the hands of governments, in the hands of priests, in the hands of kings who have used it as a weapon to keep down the populace. It is a wonderful way of disciplining people and making them do what you want, to tell them that if they don't do what you want they will, for example, go to Hell.
I want to try with someone who loves me enough to try with me. I want to grow old looking at the same face every morning. I want to grow old looking at the same face every night at the dinner table. I want to be one of those old couples you see still holding hands and laughing after fifty years of marriage. That's what I want. I want to be someone's forever.
Until you have a son of your own . . . you will never know the joy, the love beyond feeling that resonates in the heart of a father as he looks upon his son. You will never know the sense of honor that makes a man want to be more than he is and to pass something good and hopeful into the hands of his son. And you will never know the heartbreak of the fathers who are haunted by the personal demons that keep them from being the men they want their sons to be.
When the ball dropped in 1999, I was holding dough and champagne in my hands and holding my kids.
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