First Kiss History Quotes

[ ... ] Because I want your first kiss to be the best first kiss in the history of first kisses. ~ Colleen Hoover

They both groaned into that first kiss. Four months and more of longing released in a frantic rush that started out fast and rolled into something more, faster than the gathering storm and threatening to do far more damage. And ~ S.E. Jakes

Kiss my ass, demon!' Beck whooped, and shot a first in the air. ~ Jana Oliver

You are the last person I want to kiss. The last woman I want in my bed. I want you to be the last girl that touches any and all parts of me, Salem, and that means so much more than a first. ~ Jay Crownover

For once I didn't look away immediately. I forced myself to meet her contemptuous gaze. I allowed myself be swept away by it, to drown in it - the way I'd done so many times before. The way I would willingly do again. Because at least she was here to hate me. At least I had that. I watched my daughter conjure up the filthiest look in her vast arsenal before she turned away with complete disdain. I didn't mind that so much. It meant I could watch her, drink her in without her protest.
Look at our daughter, Callum. Isn't she beautiful, so very beautiful? She laughs like me, but when she smiles ... Oh Callum, when she smiles, it's picnics in Celebration Park and sunsets on our beach and our very first kiss all over again. When Callie Rose smiles at me, she lights up my life.
When Callie Rose smiles at me. ~ Malorie Blackman

I leaned my face into his palm and he looked at me like it was the first time he ever saw me. I felt my heart burst. I wanted him to kiss me. I didn't care about what he owned, or what issues he had. I knew if we kissed, it would change us both. Even worse, I wanted to say I loved him. ~ Mercy Cortez

Gentlemen of the jury: The best friend a man has in this world may turn against him and become his enemy. His son or daughter that he has reared with loving care may prove ungrateful. Those who are nearest and dearest to us, those whom we trust with our happiness and our good name, may become traitors to their faith. The money that a man has, he may lose. It flies away from him, perhaps when he needs it the most. A man's reputation may be sacrificed in a moment of ill-considered action. The people who are prone to fall on their knees to do us honor when success is with us may be the first to throw the stone of malice when failure settles its cloud upon our heads. The one absolutely unselfish friend that a man can have in this selfish world, the one that never deserts him and the one that never proves ungrateful or treacherous is his dog.
Gentlemen of the jury: A man's dog stands by him in prosperity and in poverty, in health and in sickness. He will sleep on the cold ground, where the wintry winds blow and the snow drives fiercely, if only he may be near his master's side. He will kiss the hand that has no food to offer, he will lick the wounds and sores that come in encounters with the roughness of the world. He guards the sleep of his pauper master as if he were a prince. When all other friends desert, he remains. When riches take wings and reputation falls to pieces, he is as constant in his love as the sun in its journey through the heavens.

If fortune d ~ George Graham Vest

So, is it too young for you?"
He leaned over, lips coming to mine, arms pulling me into a kiss, soft at first, tentative, then ... wow. The guy could kiss. I finally had to pull back to catch my breath.
"Good answer?" he said.
"Yep. You like them young."
He flushed. "That was not the message."
"Are you sure? Because it certainly seems
"
He cut me off with another oxygen-depriving kiss. ~ Kelley Armstrong

Ryder's in jeans and his shirt from last night, and he's staring at the fridge. When I pad closer, I see he's not just staring at the door. I've hung my various ultrasound pictures to the silvery surface, and he's studying them. His index finger is poised over my recent twenty-week one, and he's tracing the outline of the baby's legs.

"Hi," I say, clearing my throat.

He straightens and then smiles. It's a sheepish look, as if he's been caught. "Just checking out Papaya."

I love that the name Papaya has stuck. That must be a sign he feels the same. I gesture to the thirteen-week picture, when I first heard the heartbeat. "I think Papaya was a fig in that one. Funny thing - when I was so sick, Papaya was only a kidney bean."

"Kidney beans are known to be troublemakers." He steps closer, drops a strangely chaste kiss to my forehead, and sets his hands on my belly. "And I think Papaya is almost a mango now, right?"

I nod. "How did you know?"

"I might have googled pregnancy-to-fruit comparisons. Papaya will be an eggplant in a little while."

I blink. Holy shit. He really knows his pregnancy fruits. Better than I do. ~ Lauren Blakely

The oldest philosophy in the world is conservatism, and I go clear back to the first Greeks ... When you say 'radical right' today, I think of these moneymaking ventures by fellows like Pat Robertson and others who are trying to take the Republican Party away from the Republican Party, and make a religious organization out of it. If that ever happens, kiss politics goodbye. ~ Barry Goldwater

But the young Count insisted on the Beauty selecting a flower for him. He was waiting impatiently for her second present, the promised kiss - her first kiss.

The Beauty looked at the flowers. Once again her face was darkened by a delicate shade of sadness. Suddenly, as if prompted by some strange will, she quickly stretched out a hand, so exquisite in its naked whiteness, and plucked a many-petaled flower. Her hand hesitated, and she bowed her head, and finally with an expression of shy indecision she approached the Count and placed the flower in a buttonhole of his cloak.

The powerful and pungent scent wafted into the young Count's face, which grew pale as his head reeled in languid impotence. Indifference and tedium overcame him. He was scarcely aware of himself, he hardly noticed that the Beauty took him by the arm and led him into the house, away from the fragrances of the wondrous Garden.

In one of the rooms of the house where all was bright, white and rosy, the Count came to himself. A youthful vitality returned to his face, his black eyes were aflame with passion once again, and he felt the joy of life and the surge of desire anew. But already the inescapable lay in wait for him. A white hand, bare, slender, lay on his neck; and the fragrant kiss of the Beauty was tender, sweet, long. The two blue lightnings of her eyes flashed close to his eyes and were masked with the subtle mystery of her long eyelashes. The sinister fires of some ~ Valery Bryusov

Someday, Jessica, he says quietly, you will stand before me in this very room, as we prepare for some function which
we both dread, for we have been to so many in our years together, and you will smile and reach up to adjust my crooked tie, as you always do. And one of our children - perhaps our first son - will tug at your dress, demanding our attention. Then I will kiss you, and reach down to lift our child, thinking, How did I come to be so happy? ~ Beth Fantaskey

When a man first awakens, it sometimes takes several moments before he starts thinking clearly."
"And here I thought it took several years, perhaps a lifetime for the average man's intellect to kick in. ~ Karen Marie Moning

Lady Calpurnia.
He had thought her a boon- a woman with an unparalleled reputation who had simply appeared. She was the perfect solution to the problem of preparing Juliana for her first season- or so he had thought. But then he had kissed her.
And the kiss had been rather extraordinary.
He scoffed at the thought. He had been frustrated and taken aback by the arrival of his sister. Any kiss would have been a welcome distraction.
Especially one so freely given by such an enthusiastic, enjoyable partner.
Ralston hardened almost instantly, remembering the way Callie felt in his arms, her soft sighs, the way she had so willingly given herself up to the kiss. He wondered if her excitement for kissing would translate into eagerness for other, more passionate, acts. For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine her in his bed, all enormous brown eyes and full, welcoming lips, wearing nothing but a willing smile. ~ Sarah MacLean

You know, kissing, she said, as though this was just going to be a demonstration. Which it apparently was, because suddenly she found herself leaning forward and
It lasted no more than a moment. Barely anything at all, really. And yet when she pulled back, she could read the effect it'd had, all over his face. It hummed through him, visibly. His big eyes swallowed her whole. ~ Charlotte Stein

I think he [composer Joe Raposo] was the first man who kissed me on the cheek. ~ Walter Cronkite

Trace started to wave toward Matt, still with Priss wrapped around him, and she blurted, "I love you, Trace."
That effectively drew him to a halt. His hands contracted on her backside. "What?"
"I love you." Then she pointed at Chris, and to where Matt had disappeared. "They told me to fess up, so I am, and if you reject me, I swear I'll drown them both."
Very slowly, Trace's expression changed from the heat of anger to a different type of heat. "Say it again."
"Why?" She frowned at him with challenge. "Why don't you say something first?"
"All right." Sliding his hands up her back, over her shoulders, and into her wet hair, he kissed her. "You make me nuts, Priscilla." He turned his head and kissed her again, a little longer this time. "You make me hot as hell, too."
"I love you," Priss reminded him, hoping it might prompt him to a more telling declaration.
His next kiss lasted long enough to take the chill off the lake, and Priss got so wrapped up in the taste of him that she almost forgot what she wanted to hear.
Chris didn't. From the dock, he said, "If you're going to keep her waiting like this, someone needs to finish putting sunscreen on her."
Trace moved fast, grabbing for Chris's ankle, but Chris jumped back out of reach.
Priss, feeling very affected by that kiss, nuzzled Trace's neck and stroked his shoulders. He smelled delicious, felt even better. "Stop being a voyeur, Chris, and go away."
Having joined Chris o ~ Lori Foster

In the strange, shadowed lighting of my small room Dutchy takes off his belt and dress shirt and hangs them over the only chair. He stretches out on the bed in his undershirt and trousers, his back against the wall, and I lean against him, feeling his body curve around mine. His warm breath is on my neck, his arm on my waist. I wonder for a moment if he'll kiss me. I want him to.
"How can this be?" he murmurs. "It isn't possible. I've dreamed of it. Have you?"
I don't know what to say. I never dared to imagine that I'd see him again. In my experience, when you lose somebody you care about, they stay gone.
"What's the best thing that happened to you in the past ten years?" I ask.
"Seeing you again,"
Smiling, I push back against his chest. "Besides that"
"Meeting you the first time."
We both laugh. "Besides that."
"Hmm, besides that," he muses, his lips on my shoulder. "Is there anything besides that?" he pulls me close, his hand cupping my hip bone. And though I've never done anything like this before - have barely ever been alone with a man, certainly not a man in his undershirt - I'm not nervous. When he kisses me, my whole body hums. ~ Christina Baker Kline

Leaning in he kissed her gently, first on the cheek then on her lips. When he met her eyes, she saw the young man shed loved last summer and the young man she still loved now.
"I never stopped loving you, Ronnie. and I never stopped thinking about you. even if summers do come and end" she smiled knowing he was telling the truth.
"I love you too, Will Blakelee" she wispered, leaning in to kiss him again. ~ Nicholas Sparks

I made the first cut razor thin. A gentle kiss on virgin skin. ~ Madeleine Kuderick

It was raining that night, when we kissed for the first time. ~ Avijeet Das

A first kiss, I think, should be important, special. It should be with the person you want to kiss more than anybody in the world. ~ Lauren Baratz-Logsted

The difference
between being loved and being fucked
is I can't remember how the first feels.
I come to bed quiet, kiss with my eyes closed,
hate how easily I touch you.
Find me the sweetest boy, with a heart
more hopeful than spun sugar on a hot day,
I will teach him the meaning of meaningless
nights. The whole time, every moment, wishing
he'd crack me open, rib by rib, to see
how I work. How I bleed. ~ Clementine Von Radics

You're . . . you're going back to the Marines?" Alston stuttered. "I thought SOCOM was defunct."
"It's MARSOC now," Ty mumbled.
"But that's special operations. You don't have a choice?"
"No. I don't." He studied the orders. "I report in forty-eight hours. Immediate deployment."
Zane stood. His hands shook as he gripped the edge of the desk. Ty looked up, seeking Zane out. Zane could see it in Ty's eyes. There was no choice. No way to wriggle out of it. No way for anyone to save him.
"Oh God, Ty," Zane whispered.
Ty stared at him for a moment longer as the others broke into outraged babbling. Then Ty shook himself. He tossed the packet of orders onto the desk and stalked over to Zane.
He grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him.
The room spun to a halt. The babble ground to a stunned hush.
Ty's hands moved to the small of his back and he held him tight, bending him just enough for Zane to have to wrap his arms around him to keep from falling. He kissed him again. In front of their coworkers. In front of King and Country and anyone who would watch. It was the first purely honest kiss they'd ever shared.
And it was a kiss good-bye. ~ Abigail Roux

She had been lonely, the kiss hadn't meant anything, and he was clearly regretting it. How many mistakes did that sentence encapsulate in the history of relationships? ~ Thea Harrison

If the first kiss made me hollow this kiss fills me up. I've been waiting for this since the day I met her, since I saw her dreams, since her voice began haunting me, since I got to know the person she is, since our minds connected. Everything has come to this. ~ Saruuh Kelsey

So that's our approach. Very simple, and we're really shooting for Museum of Modern Art quality. The way we're running the company, the product design, the advertising, it all comes down to this: Let's make it simple. Really simple." Apple's design mantra would remain the one featured on its first brochure: "Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication. ~ Walter Isaacson

I had abandoned Elana; I deserved her uncertainty. I closed my eyes and focused on her touch. Perhaps she wouldn't have understood had I tried to explain it to her, but to me Elana was not only Elana--she was the sad-eyed love of mine who used to bag groceries at Woodley's in Buffalo; she was the sweet one who always sat across from me on the city bus in Niagara Falls; she was the girl I'd picked up hitchhiking in Mobile and dropped off in New Orleans, brash, full of sarcastic humor, but truly lonely and scared; she was the one I'd nabbed pinching Newports for her dad from the Marathon station I'd worked at in Bakersfield (I'd softened and paid for the pack myself); yes, she was the girl playing basketball with all the boys in the park, collecting cans by the side of the road, keeping secret pet kittens in an empty boxcar in the woods, walking alone at night through the rail yards, teaching her little sisters how to kiss, reading out loud to herself, so absorbed by the story, singing sadly in the tub, building a fort from the junked cars out in the meadow, by herself in the front row at the black-and-white movies or in the alley, gazing at an eddy of cigarette stubs and trash and fall leaves, smoking her first cigarette at dusk by a pile of dead brush in the desert, then wishing at the stars-she was all of them, and she was so much more that was just her that I still didn't know. ~ Davy Rothbart

thus with a kiss I die ~ William Shakespeare

Does he make you tremble with a touch?" He ran the tips of his fingers up my bare arm, his touch feather light, yet it lit a fire inside me. I closed my eyes, my entire body trembling. He lifted hair from my neck, lowered his head, and pressed a kiss on my exposed neck. Warmth pulsed through me. "Is he the first person you think about when you wake up in the morning and the last one you think about before you fall asleep? ~ Ednah Walters

From the moment she'd first seen him in the Fontaine ballroom, she'd been lost. The passionate kiss a week later had destroyed her. Even now she could feel the heat of his expert lips against hers, and the remembrance of his taste made her mouth water. ~ Sylvia Day

It's not every day one has a first kiss,' I said.
'May I remind you that it wasn't your first kiss?'
'It felt like it was. It was the first one that mattered. ~ Mary E. Pearson

I promise you that I want to do this more than anything else in the world," he said, pressing his lips to the corner of my mouth." I have wanted to since you first returned, but I thought giving you time would be prudent."
"And here I was, thinking you would have rather slept in a pool of lava than with me," I joked, but it wasn't enti false. I gave him a quick kiss in return. "We need to work on this whole talking to each other thing. We'd get a lot more done if we did."
"Yes, we would" he said before capturing my lips once more. ~ Aimee Carter

Tessa rolled over, burying her face in her pillow. For so many years she had wondered what her first kiss would be like-if he would be handsome, if he would love her, if he would be kind. She had never imagined that the kiss would be so brief and wild. Or that it would taste of holy water and blood. ~ Cassandra Clare

I grew up listening to a lot of Ray Charles and '60s rock, thanks to my father, and then my brothers got me in to KISS and whatnot, so I guess that's where I got my first taste for music. ~ Avicii

After we've been dancing awhile and need a breather, we walk off the dance floor. I whip out my cell and say, "Pose for me."
The first picture I take is of him trying to pose like a cool bad boy. It makes me laugh. I take another one before he can strike a pose this time.
"Let's take one of the both of us," he says, pulling me close. I press my cheek against his while he takes my cell and puts it as far away as he can reach, then freezes this perfect moment with a click. After the picture is taken, he pulls me into his arms and kisses me. ~ Simone Elkeles

Scholar George Myerson has recently written a study of happiness. After 250 pages tracking moments of joy throughout history, he concludes that humans are happiest hanging with friends, gathered around tables with good food and conversation and laughter. If you can get that table out of doors, so the sun can kiss the skin - if as you dine together you can also provide help for others - then, according to Myerson, you've won the lottery of life.[36] ~ Leonard Sweet

Some kisses are gentle and simply social; no more than a greeting, a brush on the cheek. Some exist only as a prelude to other activities. But our first kiss had a life and a meaning of its own. I felt that it marked the beginning of something important. ~ Vernon Coleman

I only wanted to . . . I mean, just now, when Mr. George interrupted us, there was something very important I wanted to say to you."
"It is about what I told you in the church yesterday? I mean, I can understand that you may think me crazy because I see these beings, but a psychiatrist wouldn't make any difference."
Gideon frowned. "Just keep quiet for a moment, would you? I have to pluck up all my courage to make you a declaration of love . . . I've had absolutely no practice in this kind of thing."
"What?"
"Gwyneth," he said, perfectly seriously, "I've fallen in love with you."
My stomach muscles contracted as if I'd had a shock. But it was joy. "Really?"
"Yes, really!" In the light of the torch I saw Gideon smile. "I do realize we've known each other for less than a week, and at first I thought you were rather . . . childish, and I probably behaved badly to you. But you're terribly complicated, I never know what you'll do next, and in some ways you really are terrifyingly . . . er. . . naïve. Sometimes I just want to shake you."
"Okay, I can see you were right about having no practice in making declarations of love," I agreed.
"But then you're so amusing, and clever, and amazingly sweet," Gideon went on, as if he hadn't heard me. "And the worst of it is, you only have to be in the same room and I need to touch you and kiss you . . ."
"Yes, that's really too bad," I whispered, and my heart turned over as Gideon took the hatpin ou ~ Kerstin Gier

I swallow hard. She's right. But if something happens to her, I'll never forgive myself. "Then I'll let you go," I say, and lean forward to cut the bindings. "But... you owe me something first."
'And that is?" She's still staring up at the sky.
"A kiss" I say.
Her eyes never meet mine.
"Well?" I ask.
She nods and smiles, finally throwing me a stare that's as deadly as poison "You can kiss my ass, Zephyr James. ~ Lindsay Cummings

A song on the radio can bring back the past with fierce (if mercifully transitory) immediacy: a first kiss, a good time with your buddies, or an unhappy life-passage. ~ Stephen King

If she'd never been kissed, I'd kiss her so she never desired to kiss another man. If she was still innocent in other ways, I would earn her trust and not just make love to her, but create it, a bond so strong she'd never need anyone else. I would be her first and last love. ~ S.L. Scott

Her lips were suddenly on his again, and he lost his balance and almost fell backward off the bench. Now that he'd finally been able to kiss her, she apparently liked it. He had thought she would take off his blindfold first, but he wasn't about to complain. ~ Melanie Dickerson

Dare I ask how you were received?"
"Warily, at first. Then somewhat belligerently." His eyebrow quirked. "But my reception improved markedly, once I extended the invitation to a dinner party with my aunt."
A rueful smile curved Sophia's lips. Yes, that would be her parents' reaction. They'd dine with the Devil himself, if a duchess were in attendance. "They are dreadful, aren't they?"
He shrugged. "Isn't everyone's family? I doubt your father and I will ever be great friends, but we did discover one interest in common."
"What's that?"
"You." Strong fingers cupped her chin. "We both want to see you happy. We both love you."
For a moment, Sophia did not trust herself to speak. Relief and joy swelled within her, until there was room for nothing else.
His lips brushed hers in a gentle kiss. "Am I forgiven, for not telling you first?"
Yes, yes. Forgiven, cherished, treasured, adored. Loved, beyond reason.
"I suppose," she said coyly, tracing the line of his jaw with her fingertips. "So long as you will extend me the same forgiveness."
"Why?" His eyes narrowed. "Have you been keeping secrets again?"
"Just one." Smiling, she took his hand and pressed it meaningfully against her gently rounded abdomen. "A very, very tiny one. ~ Tessa Dare

We will never have any memory of dying.

We were so patient
about our being,
noting down
numbers, days,
years and months,
hair, and the mouths we kiss,
and that moment of dying
we let pass without a note -
we leave it to others as memory,
or we leave it simply to water,
to water, to air, to time.
Nor do we even keep
the memory of being born,
although to come into being was tumultuous and new;
and now you don't remember a single detail
and haven't kept even a trace
of your first light.

It's well known that we are born.

It's well known that in the room
or in the wood
or in the shelter in the fishermen's quarter
or in the rustling canefields
there is a quite unusual silence,
a grave and wooden moment as
a woman prepares to give birth.

It's well known that we were all born.

But if that abrupt translation
from not being to existing, to having hands,
to seeing, to having eyes,
to eating and weeping and overflowing
and loving and loving and suffering and suffering,
of that transition, that quivering
of an electric presence, raising up
one body more, like a living cup,
and of that woman left empty,
the mother who is left there in her blood
and her lacerated fullness,
and its end and its beginning, and disorder
tumbling the pulse, the floor, the covers
till ev ~ Pablo Neruda

December 26, 7:40 p.m.
Dear America,
I've been thinking of our first kiss. I suppose I should say first kisses, but what I mean is the second, the one I was actually invited to give you. Did I ever tell you how I felt that night? It wasn't just getting my first kiss ever; it was getting to have that first kiss with you. I've seen so much, America, had access to the corners of our planet. But never have I come across anything so painfully beautiful as that kiss. I wish it was something I could catch with a net or place in a book. I wish it was something I could save and share with the world so I could tell the universe: this is what it's like; this is how it feels when you fall.
These letters are so embarrassing. I'll have to burn them before you get home.
Maxon ~ Kiera Cass

What was your first kiss like?"he had asked.
She answered, "I do not know as I have yet to experience such. Mayhap I should find a willing young man to help teach me how to kiss before I marry. With you being such a worldly and experienced man, mayhap you would want a wife who is just as experienced and worldly?"
His response left her laughing almost uncontrollably.
"It would bring me much relief to know you have not one grain of experience with kissing. I would hate to think you were comparing my kisses with anyone else's. Equally important is the fact that I might be drawn and quartered before our wedding day, for gutting any man who dare even think about kissing you. You would, in truth, be saving countless lives by remaining ignorant on the matter. ~ Suzan Tisdale

Leave-Taking"

I do not know where either of us can turn
Just at first, waking from the sleep of each other.
I do not know how we can bear
The river struck by the gold plummet of the moon,
Or many trees shaken together in the darkness.
We shall wish not to be alone
And that love were not dispersed and set free -
Though you defeat me,
And I be heavy upon you.

But like earth heaped over the heart
Is love grown perfect.
Like a shell over the beat of life
Is love perfect to the last.
So let it be the same
Whether we turn to the dark or to the kiss of another;
Let us know this for leavetaking,
That I may not be heavy upon you,
That you may blind me no more.

Originally published in Poetry, August 1922. ~ Louise Bogan