Blush Quotes

How can you love me if you don't even know me?" He lifted my arms around his neck and placed his hands on the small of my back.
"I know you, Jade. You're witty and stubborn, like when you wanted to get rid of me at the bar in San Diego. And you're sweet and caring, like when you talked to my mother at the hospital. And you can drink like a sailor. " He chuckled. "And you hardly ever blush, but when you do it's like the sunshine." Then, he whispered in my ear with a husky voice, "And you make love with your soul."
Peter gave my earlobe a quick nibble. "I couldn't care less about energy. It might have brought us together, but I only care about you. I want to spend the rest of my days with you; no matter if it'll be ten or ten thousand."
Despite myself, I felt my eyes burn from tears I wasn't ready to shed.
Still, I couldn't say it.
"Peter..." I kissed him with all the tenderness I found in my heart and said, "the tub is about to
spill."
"Oh, shit." He jerked away from me, turned the water off and unplugged the tub, then hugged
me again with wet hands. "All we need is time, Jade. You'll see this love is real. ~ Denyse Cohen

Good evening," he whispered, just a touch too close to her ear to be proper.
She turned toward him with a blush and he finally had the pleasure of seeing the color of her eyes. Jade green. Magnificent. Even if this woman proved to be an unattainable challenge, he'd certainly chosen well.
"G-Good evening," she stammered as she straightened up to smooth the front of the gown that matched those jade eyes perfectly. ~ Jenna Petersen

Dana daydreamed of one day being able to set her agenda at B.Altman with the same courage and tenacity as the woman who was now driving the VW while speaking animatedly about her travel plans for the near future. She would be journeying to India in search of exotic merchandise for the store's Indian extravaganza, a lavish event planned by Ira Neimark and Dawn Mello to compete with Bloomingdale's Retailing as Theater movement. The movement was the brainchild of Bloomingdale's Marvin Traub, who staged elaborate presentations such as China: Heralding the Dawn of a New Era. Typical extravaganzas featured fashion, clothing, food, and art from various regions of the world.
"I'll bring back enough items to make Bloomingdale's blush!" Nina said confidently. "And I'm not just talking sweaters, hats, and walking sticks. I'll stop first in the Himalayas and prowl the Landour Bazaar."
Lynn Steward ~ A Very Good Life ~ Lynn Steward

E-13 No wonder it makes a man blush. No wonder a real true preacher look upon his congregation and try to lead them before the throne of God, and visit their homes and find them smoking cigarettes, telling dirty jokes to each other, entertaining in the back yard with beer parties, walking around on the streets, their young women, and middle age, and so forth, and even grandmother with little shorts on. Mother out on the street with a baby on one arm, dressed sexy enough to attract the attention of any bootlegger that walked the street, and calling themselves Christians? It would make any true man of God blush to bring such a person in the Presence of God. Right. ( "A Blushing Prophet" Preached on Sunday evening, 25th November 1956 at the Branham Tabernacle in Jeffersonville, Indiana, U.S.A. - See Paragraph E-13 ). ~ William Marrion Branham

Isn't that interesting."
"Hmmmm?"
"When you blush, it doesn't stop at your collarbone. ~ Julia Hoban

Blush at your faults. ~ Dario Fo

Recent studies have considered the detection of a spaceship visiting our parish of the galaxy. In my opinion that last thought should bring a blush to every human cheek ... Fecklessness might be the main theme of the aliens' report on the new-found source of radio pollution ... that emanates from beings who have mastered a lot of physics, chemistry and biology and yet let their children starve-while all around their planet the energy of their mother star runs to waste in a desert of space. ~ Nigel Calder

[Television executives] are afraid to advertise condoms that could save lives, but do not blush about telecasting a National Geographic special on President Reagan's pelvic plumbing. ~ Martin Nolan

It was as if an invisible band started playing the sound track to a new life. I heard you. I wondered if this was how May felt when she was in high school. It must have been because it was her music. All the songs we'd listened to together, playing at once. The world she'd disappeared into was here. I looked up from my blush, away from Sky, whose eyes were still on me, and turned to Natalie and Hannah. I laughed out loud, full of the secret someone I could become. Hello, hello, hello. ~ Ava Dellaira

Such a blush In the midst of brown was born, Like red poppies grown with corn. ~ Thomas Hood

I followed the older woman out to the foyer. Taking the stairs, I scanned each painting that lined the walls. I stilled as I found a portrait that could only have been Nathaniel. He looked young and brash, no more than fifteen. His suit was painted in a regal colour, it set off his tanned skin and sky blue eyes.
"Handsome devil was he not?" Bess chuckled. "Or should I say, 'is he not'?"
I fought the urge to blush as I trailed after the housekeeper. ~ Freedom Matthews

Lipstick comes in phallic-shaped tubes. With just a breath of imagination, it feels as if you are holding a miniature penis, rubbing the head over your half-opened lips before squeezing down to spread the oily soft blush evenly over every curve and into every corner. ~ Chloe Thurlow

I brought color to bridal. There was one whole season of blush. If you think about the bareness, the illusion (fabric), the corsets that I did in bridal, they were trends in ready-to-wear, too. ~ Vera Wang

At first blush I am tempted to conclude that a satisfactory hobby must be in large degree useless, inefficient, laborious, or irrelevant. ~ Aldo Leopold

What is a hobby anyway? Where is the line of demarcation between hobbies and ordinary normal pursuits? I have been unable to answer this question to my own satisfaction. At first blush I am tempted to conclude that a satisfactory hobby must be in large degree useless, inefficient, laborious, or irrelevant. Certainly many of our most satisfying avocations today consist of making something by hand which machines can usually make more quickly and cheaply, and sometimes better. Nevertheless I must in fairness admit that in a different age the mere fashioning of a machine might have been an excellent hobby... Today the invention of a new machine, however noteworthy to industry, would, as a hobby, be trite stuff. Perhaps we have here the real inwardness of our own question: A hobby is a defiance of the contemporary. It is an assertion of those permanent values which the momentary eddies of social evolution have contravened or overlooked. If this is true, then we may also say that every hobbyist is inherently a radical, and that his tribe is inherently a minority.

This, however, is serious: Becoming serious is a grievous fault in hobbyists. It is an axiom that no hobby should either seek or need rational justification. To wish to do it is reason enough. To find reasons why it is useful or beneficial converts it at once from an avocation into an industry–lowers it at once to the ignominious category of an 'exercise' undertaken for health, power, or profit. Lifting dumbbel ~ Aldo Leopold

Then I noticed his rising blush, and I realized something.
Tobin and Angie ... their togetherness was new. New enough that being touched by her still came as a
glorious, blush-worthy surprise. ~ Maureen Johnson

I almost forgot," said Red. His voice sounded very strange, as if from a long, long distance. He reached into his pocket. "I have something for you."
He put it into my hand. A round, shiny, perfect apple, green as new grass with a faint blush of rosy pink. And now his eyes had changed so that I saw what lay there, hidden deep, so deep only the bravest or most foolhardy would seek to find it.
He has always understood me better, without words. So I laid my hand on my heart, held it there for a moment, and then moved it over and touched my palm against his breast. My heart. Your heart. ~ Juliet Marillier

Crowds rarely cheer too loudly for the defeated, no matter how hard they fought, how great their sacrifices, how long the odds. Maidens might wet themselves over cheap and worthless victories, but they don't so much as blush for 'I did my best ~ Joe Abercrombie

He rolled his eyes. " What Claire?"Claire snickered. " Corned-beef again?"Henry narrowed his eyes at her. " I like corned-beef, leave me alone."Claire laughed as he took a big bite of his sandwich while glaring at her. Ethan giggled as he watched the two of them. " What's so funny?" Henry asked Ethan around a mouthful of food, making him giggle some more. " Ew, Henry, that's gross," Claire groaned. Then Henry stopped her heart by winking at her. He freaking winked at her! Who the hell is this guy?! Claire gaped at him, trying to figure out who this person was. Henry rolled his green eyes at her. " What now?" he asked after swallowing his food. " Who are you and what have you done with Henry Beck?" Claire demanded. Henry gave her a bored look, but that couldn't hide the slight blush on his cheeks. " Whatever. ~ Andria Large

Stop it, Mom, you're making me blush. ~ Stephenie Meyer

Ambassadors, of course, do not blush. It is a requisite of the job that they can sustain any manner of insult without any visible change at all to their face. ~ Sarah Dunant

This was the first house where I'd unpacked every single box, wanting to stay. All because of a girl with a fiery attitude and a blush that let me know exactly what she thought of me. That's all it took, and I was hers. ~ Rebecca Donovan

And you look more beautiful when you blush. ~ Avijeet Das

I'll take her home. You guys finish ... whatever ... you were doing. She glances to me, a slight blush on her face. I tug Cash's borrowed shirt down, hiding my red ass cheek. The spatula is still in his hand. He's only wearing boxers. Dear Lord. ~ Pella Grace

Did you know I blush purple? Jamal's teasing me about it."
"Is he reading this?" I asked, horrified.
"No."
"Sorry I made you blush."
"I'm not. Good night, Briar Rose."
"Good night, blue-skinned alien. ~ Anna Sheehan

What are these?" Maxon asked, brushing across the tips of my fingers as we walked.
"Calluses. They're from pressing down on violin strings four hours a day."
"I've never noticed them before."
"Do they bother you?" I was the lowest caste of the six girls left, and I doubted any of them had hands like mine.
Maxon stopped moving and lifted my fingers to his lips, kissing the tiny, worn tips.
"On the contrary. I find them rather beautiful." I felt myself blush. "I've seen the world – admittedly mostly through bulletproof glass or from the tower of some ancient castle – but I've seen it. And I have access to the answers of a thousand questions at my disposal. But this small hand here?" He looked deeply into my eyes. "This hand makes sounds incomparable to anything I've ever heard. Sometimes I think I only dreamed that I heard you play the violin, it was so beautiful. These calluses are proof that it was real. ~ Kiera Cass

A blush of breeze rose from the grass. Jacob felt as if an angel's wing had beat against his cheek. He touched his cheek slowly. He felt embarrassed by the thought.
"That I should think an angel came to me."
He wept. And, again, the brush of breeze against his cheek. ~ Noah Benshea

The passions also, the winds of life, would be useless, if not injurious, did the substance which composes our thinking being, after we have thought in vain, only become the support of vegetable life, and invigorate a cabbage, or blush in a rose. The appetites would answer every earthly purpose, and produce more moderate and permanent happiness. But the powers of the soul that are of little use here, and, probably, disturb our animal enjoyments, even while conscious dignity makes us glory in possessing them, prove that life is merely an education, a state of infancy, of which the only hopes worth cherishing should not be sacrificed. I mean, therefore to infer, that we ought to have a precise idea of what we wish to attain by education, for the immortality of the soul is contradicted by the actions of many people, who firmly profess the belief. ~ Mary Wollstonecraft

When bananas blush, they turn brown, not red. And when tomatoes blush, you've probably said something really naughty. ~ Jarod Kintz

Let us read the lives of the saints; let us consider the penances which they performed, and blush to be so effeminate and so fearful of mortifying our flesh. ~ Alphonsus Liguori

Let me digress a moment to talk about beginnings. How much simpler life would be if we were wise enough to stop at the first blush of romance, the start of a business transaction or a casual friendship. If we knew enough to pause and think: this is as good as it gets. Everything will go downhill from this moment on. So once again our instincts are the opposite of what they should be, propelling us forward exactly when they should be holding us back. ~ Francine Prose

I have to second Gran's thanks for not giving up on me."
"I did consider it a few times," she teased. "But you can be such an engaging fellow that I never considered it for long."
"And there was all that encouragement from my siblings," he said. "All their little machinations to help our romance along."
He had the satisfaction of watching his wife blush very prettily. "I didn't have anything to do with that. I had no idea they were trying to 'push you' anywhere."
"Of course you didn't. You don't have an ounce of guile in your entire body. But I knew what they were doing."
She blinked at him. "You did?"
"My siblings are as transparent as that fetching night rail you put on every evening."
"If you knew, why didn't you fight them?"
"Because they were pushing me in a direction I wanted to go."
"That's very sweet, but I'm sure you had no desire to marry until-"
"From the moment I met you, sweetheart, I could tell I was in trouble. I didn't acknowledge it, but on some level I sensed it. When a man first sees the thing he never realized he wanted, he knows it instantly. He just doesn't always know how to get it."
She laughed. "Oh, I think you figured out very quickly how to get it. You just kissed me until I stopped kneeing you in the privates, and after that I was putty in your hands."
"So that's the secret, is it?" Reaching over, he hauled her onto his lap. "Now I know how I'll be spending my afternoon."
Her eyes gle ~ Sabrina Jeffries

When a man has been intemperate so long that shame no longer paints a blush upon his cheek, his liquor generally does it instead. ~ George D. Prentice

She looked him over, seeing him for the first time in sunlight. A blush crept up her cheeks as she did. He turned out to be handsomer than she'd imagined with the sunlight in his hair and him smiling at her. A flush spread across his face as well as they continued to stare at each other silently. She looked away quickly, suddenly embarrassed. ~ Jen Wylie

The two of you came this close to getting torn to shreds! Your father just found you, and he doesn't want to lose you. Do you have any idea what he has been through to protect you since you got here?"
[...]
"No." Talon's voice was subdued, but only slightly. Teenage defiance still seethed beneath the surface. "He didn't tell me."
I leaned back in my chair, blew out my breath, and closed my eyes. "And he probably won't." Tired had surrendered to exhausted. "He wouldn't want you to worry. Because he loves you."
When Talon didn't respond, I opened one eye and looked at him. "He hasn't told you that, either, has he?" I asked wearily.
"Not exactly."
My elbow was resting on the chair arm, and I dropped my head onto my upraised hand. I snorted. "Not exactly." I shook my head. "Men." I didn't lift my head off my hand; it felt too good to be resting on something. I turned it about an inch and I could see Piaras just fine.
His face was a shade or two short of a full, blazing blush. "I know you do." His words tumbled out in a rush. "You don't have to tell me. ~ Lisa Shearin

It is something, I thought, when a king can put a courtesan to the blush. ~ Mary Renault

Oh god, a winky face. The most provocative of all emoticons. A blush creeps over my face and I rub my cheeks to hide it, even though there's no one here to see. What a confident, cocky bastard. Boys at school never do this to me - I don't know if it's because I can see their faces or because they can see mine or what. ~ Francesca Zappia

The only thing that's changed is the way Blake looks at me.
And it takes my breath away.
Blake's eyes glow in the firelight. But it's the flames behind his eyes that make my whole body run hot. I can feel myself blush as he brings his hands to my cheek, branding me with his touch. "Brianna Paxton." He lets his fingers rest against my skin, stroking just beneath my chin. "You are even more beautiful than I remembered. ~ Talia Vance

So sweet the blush of bashfulness, E'en pity scarce can wish it less! ~ Lord Byron

I have entered upon a performance which is without example, whose
accomplishment will have no imitator. I mean to present my
fellow-mortals with a man in all the integrity of nature; and this man
shall be myself.

I know my heart, and have studied mankind; I am not made like any one I
have been acquainted with, perhaps like no one in existence; if not
better, I at least claim originality, and whether Nature did wisely in
breaking the mould with which she formed me, can only be determined after
having read this work.

Whenever the last trumpet shall sound, I will present myself before the
sovereign judge with this book in my hand, and loudly proclaim, thus have
I acted; these were my thoughts; such was I. With equal freedom and
veracity have I related what was laudable or wicked, I have concealed no
crimes, added no virtues; and if I have sometimes introduced superfluous
ornament, it was merely to occupy a void occasioned by defect of memory:
I may have supposed that certain, which I only knew to be probable, but
have never asserted as truth, a conscious falsehood. Such as I was, I
have declared myself; sometimes vile and despicable, at others, virtuous,
generous and sublime; even as thou hast read my inmost soul: Power
eternal! assemble round thy throne an innumerable throng of my
fellow-mortals, let them listen to my confessions, let them blush at my
depravity, ~ Jean-Jacques Rousseau

Miss Wigglesworth gave him an assessing look out of her remarkable blue eyes.
"You're a libertine? How very unique."
She gave a small fake yawn. She was, in that heartbeat, so perfect and so pure and so very dangerous indeed that all he could do was frighten her away.
"Have you been listening at keyholes, Lazuli? I assure you, they have always been willing, even when I ask that they pretend otherwise."
She blushed deep pink at that – an appealing thing, the blood high under her cheeks, warm and subtle and alive. He wanted to delve into her, with teeth and body until she was ravaged and supine and wrecked and bleeding and his. She did not, as he had expected, break away from him mid-step. The blush was there, to be sure, but she was made of sterner stuff. Any true innocent would be repulsed by the intent in his tone. A woman without experience would fear the implication of his preferences – the certain acknowledgment that there was wolf, nothing but wolf, underneath all his icy indifference. Faith was intrigued. She tilted her head and looked hard at him, her lovely eyes flinty.
"So, you're just a beast who enjoys the chase, nothing else?"
"Exactly so."
She threw it all at him. Like a piece of warm fresh meat, cut and dripping temptation, enough to make him salivate, to bait her trap.
"You can't catch me."
The waltz ended. ~ Gail Carriger

We all know that a lie needs no other grounds, than the invention of the liar; and to take for granted as truth, all that is alleged against the fame of others, is a species of credulity, that men would blush at on any other subject. ~ Jane Porter

Amy looked up at him. Their faces were very close. She remembered when those dark expressive eyes would make her quiver inside, when being this close would make her blush and stammer. Not anymore, though. ~ Jude Watson

In our every cell, furled at the nucleus, there is a ribbon two yards long and just ten atoms wide. Over a hundred million miles of DNA in very human individual, enough to wrap five million times around our world and make the Midgard serpent blush for shame, make even the Ourobouros worm swallow hard in disbelief. This snake-god, nucleotide, twice twisted, scaled in adenine and cytosine, in thymine and in guanine, is a one-man show, will be the actors, props and setting, be the apple and the garden both. The player bides his time, awaits his entrance to a drum-roll of igniting binaries. This is the only dance in town, this anaconda tango, this slow spiral up through time from witless dirt to paramecium, from blind mechanic organism to awareness. There, below the birthing stars, Life sways and improvises. Every poignant gesture drips with slapstick; pathos; an unbearably affecting bravery. To dare this stage, this huge and overwhelming venue. Squinting through the stellar footlights, hoping there's an audience, that there's someone out there, but dancing anyway. But dancing anyway. ~ Alan Moore

All computers expect to be yelled at. There's not a single computer in the whole world that hasn't been sworn at. Even the discreet little VDU with the crossed keys monogram on the keyboard that sits on the Pope's desk in his office in the Vatican has in its time heard language that'd make a Marine blush. ~ Tom Holt

Then, to be able to remember the sunset, to be able to remember a beautiful conversation, a beautiful deed done where hope and faith were created, to remember the smile of a babe, the blush of a rose, the harmony of a song--a bird's call; these are creative. For if they are a part of thyself, they bring you closer and closer to God. ~ Edgar Cayce

Seeing him like this, dressed just for her in so patent a manner, she could not hold back the fiery blush that rose to her face. She was embarrassed when she greeted him, and he was more embarrassed by her embarrassment. The knowledge that they were behaving as if they were sweethearts was even more embarrassing, and the knowledge that they were both embarrassed embarrassed them so much that Captain Samaritano noticed it with a tremor of compassion. ~ Gabriel Garcia Marquez

George" she practically squealed, and once again he shushed her.
"You never learn, do you?" he murmured against her skin.
"You're the one who's making me scream."
"That wasn't a scream," he said with a cocktail smile.
she eyed him with alarm. "I didn't mean it as a dare."
He laughed aloud - although more quietly than she'd done - at that. "Merely planning for the future, when volume is not an issue."
"George, there are servants!"
"Who work for me."
"George!"
"When we are married," he said, lacing his fingers through hers, "we shall make as much or as little noise as we wish."
Billie felt her face go crimson.
he dropped a teasing kiss on her cheek. "Did I make you blush?"
"You know you did," she grumbled.
He looked down at her with a cocky smile. "I probably shouldn't take quite so much pride in that."
"But you do."
He brought her hand to his lips. "I do. ~ Julia Quinn

How is he?"
"Who?"
"Your father."
Of all the things Claire had expected, that wasn't it, and it took her a minute of honest puzzlement to try to work out why someone like Frank Collins would even care.
She finally said,"He's doing okay. I talked to my mom yesterday; the doctors think they can fix his heart problem. He's feeling a lot better."
Frank nodded. "Good. Family's important," he said. "Maybe too important, sometimes. Iknow how much I screwed it up with Shane. Can't blame the kid for hating me now."
It was almost a . . . question? And if it was a question, what could Claire say?
Yeah, he hates your guts. That probably wasn't what Frank was hoping to hear.
"Just take care of him," she said. "That's what you're supposed to do. Stop using him, and start protecting him. I know he thinks he doesn't need it, but sometimes he does. Sometimes we all do."
Now Frank did look up, and Claire felt a blush building in her face as he stared at her like he was actually seeing her for a change.
"He did okay," Shane's dad finally said. "Picking you. ~ Rachel Caine

My eyes ran away from his. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Your blush says otherwise."
"It's - it's just hot in here."
His grin deepened. "Yes, it is."
"Oh, shut up. ~ A&E Kirk

The disease which had thus entombed the lady in the maturity of youth, had left, as usual in all maladies of a strictly cataleptical character, the mockery of a faint blush upon the bosom and the face, and that suspiciously lingering smile upon the lip which is so terrible in death ~ Edgar Allan Poe

They may seize
On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand
And steal immortal blessing from her lips,
Who, even in pure and vestal modesty,
Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin. ~ William Shakespeare

I don't know how to describe it, but after the blush of my own company wore off, I became so aware of Earnest's absence it was as if the lack of him had moved into the apartment with me. ~ Paula McLain

We are all pirates at heart. There is not one of us who hasn't had a little larceny in his soul. And which one of us wouldn't soar if God had thought there was merit in the idea? So, when we see one of those great widespread pirates soaring across the grain of sea winds we thrill, and we long, and, if we are honest, we curse that we must be men every day. Why not one day a bird! There's an idea, now, one day out of seven a pirate in the sky. What puny power a man can attain by comparison. Compare a 747 with a bird and blush! ~ Roger Caras

Her blush was the color of a coral reef, but smooth. ~ Aimee Bender

In a certain sense it might well be said that his was an exemplary life. He was one of those rare people, rare in our town as elsewhere, who have the courage of their good feelings. What little he told of his personal life vouched for acts of kindness and a capacity for affection that no one in our times dares own to. Without a blush he confessed to dearly loving his nephews and sister, his only surviving near relation, whom he went to France to visit every other year. He admitted that the thought of his parents, whom he lost when he was very young, often gave him a pang. He did not conceal the fact that he had a special affection for a church bell in his part of the town which started pealing very melodiously at about five every afternoon. ~ Albert Camus

We are all women you assure me? Then I may tell you that the very next words I read were these – 'Chloe liked Olivia …' Do not start. Do not blush. Let us admit in the privacy of our own society that these things sometimes happen. Sometimes women do like women. 'Chloe liked Olivia,' I read. And then it struck me how immense a change was there. Chloe liked Olivia perhaps for the first time in literature. Cleopatra did not like Octavia. And how completely Antony and Cleopatra would have been altered had she done so! As it is, I thought, letting my mind, I am afraid, wander a little from Life's Adventure, the whole thing is simplified, conventionalized, if one dared say it, absurdly. Cleopatra's only feeling about Octavia is one of jealousy. Is she taller than I am? How does she do her hair? The play, perhaps, required no more. But how interesting it would have been if the relationship between the two women had been more complicated. All these relationships between women, I thought, rapidly recalling the splendid gallery of fictitious women, are too simple. So much has been left out, unattempted. And I tried to remember any case in the course of my reading where two women are represented as friends. There is an attempt at it in Diana of the Crossways. They are confidantes, of course, in Racine and the Greek tragedies. They are now and then mothers and daughters. But almost without exception they are shown in their relation to men. ~ Virginia Woolf

Dearra felt a blush on her cheeks as she responded. "It's not something I wish to repeat. Let's just say that all men seem to have one thing in common - they are all remarkably protective of their... swords. " Neither girl spoke further, but each wore a wicked grin on her face that would have sent Tebreh running in horror. ~ Christine Grey

I felt that blush in my chest as we talked stupid talk never quite revealing our queerness to each other but somehow wordlessly generating volumes of desire like some kind of sublanguage that makes you want to splash into it even with all its tensions. ~ David Wojnarowicz

He looks up.
Our eyes lock,and he breaks into a slow smile. My heart beats faster and faster. Almost there.He sets down his book and stands.And then this-the moment he calls my name-is the real moment everything changes.
He is no longer St. Clair, everyone's pal, everyone's friend.
He is Etienne. Etienne,like the night we met. He is Etienne,he is my friend.
He is so much more.
Etienne.My feet trip in three syllables. E-ti-enne. E-ti-enne, E-ti-enne. His name coats my tongue like melting chocolate. He is so beautiful, so perfect.
My throat catches as he opens his arms and wraps me in a hug.My heart pounds furiously,and I'm embarrassed,because I know he feels it. We break apart, and I stagger backward. He catches me before I fall down the stairs.
"Whoa," he says. But I don't think he means me falling.
I blush and blame it on clumsiness. "Yeesh,that could've been bad."
Phew.A steady voice.
He looks dazed. "Are you all right?"
I realize his hands are still on my shoulders,and my entire body stiffens underneath his touch. "Yeah.Great. Super!"
"Hey,Anna. How was your break?"
John.I forget he was here.Etienne lets go of me carefully as I acknowledge Josh,but the whole time we're chatting, I wish he'd return to drawing and leave us alone. After a minute, he glances behind me-to where Etienne is standing-and gets a funny expression on hs face. His speech trails off,and he buries his nose in his sketchbook. I look back, b ~ Stephanie Perkins

People can see us."
"That's my hope, yes." Skylar pulled Xander a little closer to him. "Is that all right?"
Xander's heart felt like a drum, its beats reverberating through his body. "If you claim me in front of my friends?"
"If I claim you in front of anyone. Everyone. I like the way it makes you blush. But I also simply like you. And I want everyone to know." Skylar nuzzled Xander's hair briefly with his lips. "Is it all right?"
Xander melted into his side, shutting his eyes. "Yes. It's fine. ~ Heidi Cullinan

He went to look closely at the painting, which portrayed a parade of fat white geese strolling past the doorway of a cottage.
"Someday I'll be able to afford real art," Garrett said, coming to stand beside him. "In the meantime, we'll have to make do with this."
Ethan's attention was drawn to the tiny initials in the corner of the work: G.G. A slow smile broke over his face. "You painted it?"
"Art class, at boarding school," she admitted. "I wasn't bad at sketching, but the only subject I could manage to paint adequately was geese. At one point I tried to expand my repertoire to ducks, but those earned lower marks, so it was back to geese after that."
Ethan smiled, imagining her as a studious schoolgirl with long braids. The light of a glass-globe parlor lamp slid across the tidy pinned-up weight of her hair, bringing out gleams of red and gold. He'd never seen anything like her skin, fine and powerless, with a faint glow like a blush-colored garden rose.
"What gave you the idea to paint geese in the first place?" he asked.
"There was a goose pond across from the school," Garrett said, staring absently at the picture. "Sometimes I saw Miss Primrose at the front windows, watching with binoculars. One day I dared to ask her what she found so interesting about geese, and she told me they had a capacity for attachment and grief that rivaled humans. They mated for life, she said. If a goose was injured, the gander would stay with her even if the rest ~ Lisa Kleypas

Did I ever tell you I went to school in America?"
"What? No."
"It's true,for a year. Eighth grade. It was terrible."
"Eighth grade is terrible for everyone," I say.
"Well,it was worse for me. My parents had just seperated,and my mum moved back to California.I hadn't been since I was an infant,but I went with her,and I was put in this horrid public school-"
"Oh,no. Public school."
He nudges me with his shoulder. "The other kids were ruthless. They made fun of everything about me-my height,my accent, the way I dressed.I vowed I'd never go back."
"But American girls love English accents." I blurt this without thinking, and then pray he doesn't notice my blush.
St. Clair picks up a pebble and tosses it into the river. "Not in middle school, they don't.Especially when it's attached to a bloke who comes up to their kneecaps."
I laugh.
"So when the year was over,my parents found a new school for me. I wanted to go back to London,where my mates were, but my father insisted on Paris so he could keep an eye on me. And that's how I would up at the School of America. ~ Stephanie Perkins

Well, it's a marvelous night for a Moondance
With the stars up above in your eyes ...
And I'm trying to please to the calling
Of your heart-strings that they play soft and low
And all the night's magic seems to whisper and hush
And all the soft moonlight seems to shine in your blush ...
One more Moondance with you in the moonlight
On a magic night ~ Van Morrison

Forgot the blush that virgin fears impart
To modest cheeks, and borrowed one from art. ~ William Cowper

You didn't really bring me beets, did you?" ...
"I did," he murmured, his thumbs sliding underneath my T-shirt the tiniest bit. "I brought mad beets."
"Oh man," I snorted ... "Did you bring me anything else?"
He brought his face back to mine, tinged with the slightest of blush. "I hesitate to say it now."
"What did you bring?" I asked his shaking shoulders.
He buried his head once again into my neck. "A really big zucchini ... ~ Alice Clayton

I always carry around a giant makeup case with about fifteen items in it. I so want to be the girl who just carries lipstick as if that's all I need, but I'm just not that girl. I need my lipstick, but then, just in case my cheeks start to lose their color, I need my blush. Then I'll need my oil pads ... so I just take the whole thing. And now I need a full on fashionable backpack for it all! ~ Analeigh Tipton

We never forget those who make us blush. ~ Jean-Francois De La Harpe

A letter does not blush. ~ Marcus Tullius Cicero

We blush very, very easily, and we get terrified of audiences. ~ Jacqueline McKenzie

I shake myself. What is wrong with me? I've seen pretty men before, I've been attracted to men before, and yet this one, this man who I hardly know at all, has me all tongue-tied.

Reid takes a few tentative steps towards the elevator, leading me out the door and to the dark street below. The streetlights are dull behind the office building and the roads are almost completely absent of cars. The Michigan air is a bit thick tonight, the humidity sticking to my skin and making my already curled hair poof out even farther away from my head. I run a hand through it and Reid notices. "It's fine."

I blush a little and shrug my shoulders. I wonder if that means he thinks my hair looks fine or if he likes it the way it is… Why do men have to be so vague?

…Why do I care? ~ Allana Kephart

If ambitious fantasies make people blush, and sexual fantasies make people blush and feel guilty, fantasies of violence and death may make people blush and feel guilty-and frightened too. ~ Judith Viorst

For days after her horrendous meeting with Mr. Johnson Loudy McSexypus Fitzwell, Dove would stop to just blush from head to toe. ~ Debra Anastasia

I'm just a lipgloss, blush and mascara kind of girl. I like playing with a bright lipstick or a heavy eye ... But not together! ~ Lily Cole

The little girl he loved was gone and in her place stood a stranger with Mattie's eyes and a woman's body, her long auburn hair pulled up from her neck, her small shoulders squared against the world...She didn't see the blush rise up in his face when he spoke his name. She didn't hear his young voice crack when he stammered an answer to her questions. And she didn't know that, for the first time in his life, John Henry Holliday was falling in love. ~ Victoria Wilcox

Antiheroes
Aren't just black and white; they exploit the mystery and allure of shadow, of shades of grey. For the writer, they offer more story possibilities than heroes. They could tip either way, either supporting or fighting him. Reformed antiheroes could revert to bad ways, and even on the side of good, but they cab still use methods that would make a true hero blush or flinch. The only problem is that the characteristics that make them antiheroes can, if use for good, transform them into heroes; and then life tends to be much less entertaining. ~ Helen McCarthy

What is your name?" he asked softly.
She winced, knowing what was to come, "Calpurnia." She closed her eyes again, embarrassed by the extravagant name- a name with which no one but a hopelessly romantic mother with an unhealthy obsession with Shakespeare would have considered saddling a child.
"Calpurnia." He tested the name on his tongue. "As in, Caesar's wife?"
The blush flared higher as she nodded.
He smiled. "I must make it a point to better acquaint myself with your parents. That is a bold name, to be sure."
"It's a horrible name."
"Nonsense. Calpurnia was Empress of Rome- strong and beautiful and smarter than the men who surrounded her. She saw the future, stood strong in the face of her husband's assassination. She is a marvelous namesake. ~ Sarah MacLean

When they stopped to pick up Mike, Violet started to get out so she could climb in back with Chelsea, giving Mike's longer legs the front seat, but Jay reached out and caught her wrist.
"What are you doing? I want you to sit with me." His fingers moved to lace through hers as he drew her back inside. "Mike can sit in back."
Violet felt herself blush with satisfaction.
Mike came out of his house and jumped down the porch without ever touching the steps. Behind the darkened curtains, the television flickered.
"Here he comes!" Chelsea squealed, sounding like a little girl as she bounced up and down in the backseat, shaking the entire car. She clapped her hands with excitement.
Violet pulled her seat as far forward as she could to give Mike some extra room. He'd need it if he was going to be confined back there with Chelsea.
"Heeyyy, Mike." Chelsea managed to drawl the two words into several long syllables as Mike slid into the car. The syrupiness of it sounded so foreign oozing from Chelsea's mouth.
"Hey," Mike said back to her. One word, one syllable.
"So I guess it's just the four of us tonight," she purred.
"Really? I thought we were meeting a buncha people."
"Nope. Just us. Everyone else bailed."
Violet smiled to herself as she listened to Chelsea's account, amazed that her words came out sounding so…sincere.
But Violet knew better. And she realized from the look Jay flashed her that he knew too.
Mike, on the o ~ Kimberly Derting

Another thing much too commonly seen, is an aberration of the human mind which otherwise I should have been ashamed to warn you of. It is technically called carpet-gardening. Need I explain it further? I had rather not, for when I think of it, even when I am quite alone, I blush with shame at the thought. ~ William Morris

Fragment of the Elegy on the Death of Bion
From the Greek of Moschus
Published from the Hunt manuscripts by Forman, "Poetical Works of P. B. S.", 1876.
Ye Dorian woods and waves, lament aloud,
Augment your tide, O streams, with fruitless tears,
For the beloved Bion is no more.
Let every tender herb and plant and flower,
From each dejected bud and drooping bloom,
Shed dews of liquid sorrow, and with breath
Of melancholy sweetness on the wind
Diffuse its languid love; let roses blush,
Anemones grow paler for the loss
Their dells have known; and thou, O hyacinth,
Utter thy legend now - yet more, dumb flower,
Than 'Ah! alas!' - thine is no common grief
Bion the [sweetest singer] is no more.
NOTE:
_2 tears]sorrow (as alternative) Hunt manuscript ~ Percy Bysshe Shelley

We have plenty of natural springs in our area. The cool springs have the sweetest water you'll ever taste - hence the name of our town. And it's never too cold for a Montanan to sit in a natural hot spring, even if it means your wet hair turns into icicles."
Her hand rose to cover her mouth, and her eyes widened.
He laughed at her shocked expression.
Pamela lowered her hand.
"Hot springs outdoors? In the winter?"
"Hot springs feel down right good to soak in anytime, especially when the air's cold outside. The hot water soothes sore muscles and is good for what ails you. But I also have a river through my property. I've dammed up a spot that makes for a nice swimming hole when it's hot in the summer."
A blush rose in her cheeks, and she glanced to the side.
"Very refreshing," he teased, just to watch the pink deepen....
Pamela couldn't help the dreamy vision of bathing with him in a hot spring, touching each other as the snowflakes swirled around them. She let out a sigh. So romantic. ~ Debra Holland

your gaze
across
my cheeks

turned them
into
strawberry fields. ~ Sanober Khan

Thank you." A bright blush stained her cheeks. "For last night. For chasing the monsters away…"

"Anytime. It's kind of my job to protect you."

"A job sounds like you're forced."

"Nah," I argued. "Saying it's my job just means it's my identity in a way. You know how people go, 'Hey, I'm Rick. I'm a janitor.'" I smiled. "Now I can say, hey I'm Weston, and I kill monsters on behalf of my very sexy girlfriend so she can sleep at night. ~ Rachel Van Dyken

The pressure is on. They've teased me all week, because I've avoided anything that requires ordering. I've made excuses (I'm allergic to beef," "Nothing tastes better than bread," Ravioli is overrated"), but I can't avoid it forever.Monsieur Boutin is working the counter again. I grab a tray and take a deep breath.
"Bonjour, uh...soup? Sopa? S'il vous plait?"
"Hello" and "please." I've learned the polite words first, in hopes that the French will forgive me for butchering the remainder of their beautiful language. I point to the vat of orangey-red soup. Butternut squash, I think. The smell is extraordinary, like sage and autumn. It's early September, and the weather is still warm. When does fall come to Paris?
"Ah! soupe.I mean,oui. Oui!" My cheeks burn. "And,um, the uh-chicken-salad-green-bean thingy?"
Monsieur Boutin laughs. It's a jolly, bowl-full-of-jelly, Santa Claus laugh. "Chicken and haricots verts, oui. You know,you may speek Ingleesh to me. I understand eet vairy well."
My blush deepends. Of course he'd speak English in an American school. And I've been living on stupid pears and baquettes for five days. He hands me a bowl of soup and a small plate of chicken salad, and my stomach rumbles at the sight of hot food.
"Merci," I say.
"De rien.You're welcome. And I 'ope you don't skeep meals to avoid me anymore!" He places his hand on his chest, as if brokenhearted. I smile and shake my head no. I can do this. I can do this. I can-
Stephanie Perkins

Prose vs. Poetry
To a writer of prose
a flower is a flower.

To a poet a flower can be
the origami of God's eye
enfolding the cosmos;
it is the luminous
well of imagination
bursting into pattern;
it is the coalescence
of infinite possibility
into palpable reality;
it is a confetti forest
for dancing bumble bees;
it is the flirtatious blush
ofradial symmetry;
it is the heartache of love
manifest in a rose.

For a true poet
A FLOWER IS NOT A FLOWER. ~ Beryl Dov

Good morning," he said as he placed his hand at the small of her back and steered her towards his truck.

"Back to the manhandling, Yummy?" she drawled, smacking her lips lightly.

"Never stopped," he admitted with a smile, wondering what it was going to take to bring back that blush that he really liked. ~ R.L. Mathewson

We call this a state of childishness, but it is the same poor hollow mockery of it, that death is of sleep. Where, in the dull eyes of doating men, are the laughing light and life of childhood, the gaiety that has known no check, the frankness that has felt no chill, the hope that has never withered, the joys that fade in blossoming? Where, in the sharp lineaments of rigid and unsightly death, is the calm beauty of slumber, telling of rest for the waking hours that are past, and gentle hopes and loves for those which are to come? Lay death and sleep down, side by side, and say who shall find the two akin. Send forth the child and childish man together, and blush for the pride that libels our own old happy state, and gives its title to an ugly and distorted image. ~ Charles Dickens

Like a child, I close my eyes as if they can't see me either. The fire from the kiss broadcasts itself all over me in the form of a full-body blush.
Galen laughs. "There it is," he says, running his thumb over my bottom lip. "That is my favorite color. Wow."
I'm going to kill him. "Galen. Please. Come. With. Me," I coke out. Gliding past him, my bare feet slap against the tile until I'm stomping on carpet in the hallway, then up the stairs.
I can tell by the prickles on my skin that he's following like a good dead fish. As I reach the ladder to the uppermost level, I nod to him to keep following before I hoist myself up. Pacing the room until he gets through the trap door, I count more Mississipis than I've ever counted in my whole life.
He closes the door and locks it shut but makes no move to come closer. Still, for a person who's about to die, he seems more amused than he should. I point my finger at him, but can't decide what to accuse him of first, so I put it back down.
After several moments of this, he breaks the silence. "Emma, calm down."
"Don't tell me what to do, Highness." I dare him with my eyes to call me "boo."
Instead of the apology I'm looking for, his eyes tell me he's considering kissing me again, right now.
Which is meant to distract me. Tearing my gaze from his mouth, I stride to the window seat and move the mountains of pillows on it. Making myself comfortable, I lean my head against the window. He knows as well as ~ Anna Banks

Can dragons fly?"
The apparent change of subject didn't seem to startle the Mage. "No. Not at all. They do not have wings, ... "If you want a flying spell creature, you need a Roc."
"A what?"
"A Roc. It is a giant bird," Alain explained.
Mari shook her head. "A giant bird. I'm crazy to be listening to this, you know that?"
"I have thought…" He fumbled for words, for a moment looking just like any other seventeen-year-old young man. Was that actually embarrassment showing? "You might…be interested…someday….in flying…on a Roc. I mean…with me." 
"Are you asking me on a date?" Mari tried desperately not to laugh at his discomfort. "A date on a giant bird?"
"Um…I do not know…just something to do…together. That is not dangerous," Alain added hastily. 
"Doing something together, that isn't dangerous?" Mari asked. "That would be a change of pace for us, wouldn't it? … "Have you ever gone…flying…with a girl before?" 
Was he blushing? Just the faintest hint of it, but - stars above. She had made a Mage blush. 
"No," Alain said. ~ Jack Campbell

He touches my bottom lip, leaving behind a smear of fruity glaze. He watches as I suck away the bittersweet residue, then he licks the rest of the glaze from his fingertip. At the appearance of his tongue, heat blossoms in my face.
He smirks. "Look at that. I revived the color in your cheeks." ~ A.G. Howard

Is it true, prince, that you once declared that "beauty would save the world"? Great Heaven! The prince says that beauty saves the world! And I declare that he only has such playful ideas because he's in love! Gentlemen, the prince is in love. I guessed it the moment he came in. Don't blush, prince; you make me sorry for you. What beauty saves the world? Colia told me that you are a zealous Christian; is it so? Colia says you call yourself a Christian.'

The prince regarded him attentively, but said nothing. ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky

On first blush this looks to be about money, but it is about power. Is power going to go to the information monopolies, or will it go to developers and users?. ~ Eric S. Raymond

Silas talks about San Francisco, so avidly that I think he's trying to fill the air with words before it can be consumed with awkward silences. I don't know why I feel those silences lurking all around us, but every time Silas and I make eye contact, I can sense them there, waiting to slip in and make me blush. I try to avoid his eyes, stealing glances at his arched brows and bow-shaped lips whenever he's looking away. ~ Jackson Pearce

Who told you you couldn't come back when you're grown? Was it the same person who told you grown-ups don't cry or blush or clap their hands when they're happy? Don't try to say otherwise, I've seen you fighting like a boxer to change your face so that it never shows anything. Whoever told you that's what growing up means is a villain, as true as a mustache. I am growing up, too, and look at me! I cry and I blush and I live in Fairyland always! ~ Catherynne M Valente

The things they say!
A truck driver would blush.
I would never talk that way
to Trevor he walks on water.
I want him to think I do too.
For a while, he did, or at least
he pretended to.

I did things with Trevor
I wouldn't dare to confess
to anyone - things I didn't
know anyone did.
But he wanted me to,
so I did. That's what you do
when you love someone,
right? ~ Ellen Hopkins

Don't be superior. Everyone drinks blood. Blood is a word that means alive. You can do without almost anything: arms, legs, teeth, hope. But you can't do without blood. Lose even a little and you grow slow and stupid and not yourself at all. We are all of us beautiful and complicated vessels for carrying blood the way a bottle carries wine. I suppose you think there's no blood in your roast beef? Life eats life. Blood makes you move, makes you blush, makes the pulse pound in your brow when you see your love walking across a street toward you, makes your very thoughts fly through your brain. Blood is everything and everything is blood. ~ Catherynne M Valente

I feel the color in my cheeks rising again. I must be the color of The Communist Manifesto. ~ E.L. James

Her whole body flared to life with a fiery blush. Maybe that was why the term "old flame" had been invented. Somebody always got burned. ~ Susan Wiggs

Megan looked at me and blushed. A blush looked really good on her. Of course, so would soup, mud, or elephant earwax. Megan on a bad day outshined anyone else I'd ever known. ~ Brandon Sanderson

If I were the blushing kind, I would blush to be called a hero. ~ Aung San Suu Kyi