Forehead Quotes

He is lost in Agamemnon and Odysseus' wily double meanings, their lies and games of power. They have confounded him, tied him to a stake and baited him. I stroke the soft skin of his forehead. I would untie him if I could. If he would let me. ~ Madeline Miller

Every morning when I wake up, I kiss her forehead as symbol of gratitude and appreciation and she repays me back with a lovely smile. ~ M.F. Moonzajer

He came up and kissed me on my forehead, and before he stepped away, I closed my eyes and tried hard to memorize this moment. I wanted to remember him exactly as he was right then, how his arms looked brown against his white shirt, the way his hair was cut a little too short in the front. Even the bruise, there because of me.

Then he was gone.

Just for that moment, the thought that I might never see him again… it felt worse than death. I wanted to
run after him. Tell him anything, everything. Just don't go. Please just never go. Please just always be near me, so I can at least see you.

Because it felt final. I always believed that we would find our way back to each other every time. That no matter what, we would be connected - by our history, by this house. But this time, this last time, it felt final. Like I would never see him again, or that when I did, it would be different, there would be a mountain between us.

I knew it in my bones. That this time was it. I had finally made my choice, and so had he. He let me go. I was relieved, which I expected. What I didn't expect was to feel so much grief.

Bye bye, Birdie. ~ Jenny Han

His smile was quizzical and sincere as he said, "Sometimes you feel more like an adversary than a…."

"Than a what?"

"Than a girlfriend, a partner."

I thought about that for a moment, let it roll around in my head, realized - given what I knew about Alex's past - it made quite a lot of sense.

"With a girlfriend you'd need to give away some of your control. But with an adversary, it's all about control."

"Don't." His voice was a growl, and held more than a hint of warning.

"Don't what?"

"Don't start psychoanalyzing me."

"I'm not." I sighed, rubbed my forehead, and removed myself from his lap. I sat down heavily on the couch. "I'm just trying to figure out how to get in your pants without asking you any direct questions. ~ Penny Reid

He watched her, listened to her, and knew she was truly asleep. He kissed her forehead and found the act pleasing for its own sake. And, he admitted as he licked his lips, it was enjoyable for other reasons. Meg wasn't bitable, but he really did like the taste of her. ~ Anne Bishop

Miss Wynter, I think you should be the evil queen," Harriet said.
"There's an evil queen?" Daniel echoed. With obvious delight.
"Of course," Harriet replied. "Every good play has an evil queen."
Frances actually raised her hand. "And a un - "
"Don't say it," Elizabeth growled.
Frances crossed her eyes, put her knife to her forehead in an approximation of a horn, and neighed. ~ Julia Quinn

The light was crude. It made Artaud's eyes shrink into darkness, as they are deep-set. This brought into relief the intensity of his gestures. He looked tormented. His hair, rather long, fell at times over his forehead. He has the actor's nimbleness and quickness of gestures. His face is lean, as if ravaged by fevers. His eyes do not seem to see the people. They are the eyes of a visionary. His hands are long, long-fingered.
Beside him Allendy looks earthy, heavy, gray. He sits at the desk, massive, brooding. Artaud steps out on the platform, and begins to talk about " The Theatre and the Plague."
He asked me to sit in the front row. It seems to me that all he is asking for is intensity, a more heightened form of feeling and living. Is he trying to remind us that it was during the Plague that so many marvelous works of art and theater came to be, because, whipped by the fear of death, man seeks immortality, or to escape, or to surpass himself? But then, imperceptibly almost, he let go of the thread we were following and began to act out dying by plague. No one quite knew when it began. To illustrate his conference, he was acting out an agony. "La Peste" in French is so much more terrible than "The Plague" in English. But no word could describe what Artaud acted out on the platform of the Sorbonne. He forgot about his conference, the theatre, his ideas, Dr. Allendy sitting there, the public, the young students, his wife, professors, and directors.
His face was ~ Anais Nin

She's done things that mark her forever, as good as a brand on her forehead - and her denial of them would be fruitless. It would be vanity. ~ Alden Bell

What I feel for you … It's all-consuming,he breathed, leaning his forehead against mine again. 'It's almost debilitating. It's too much. It's … I can't even describe it, but being with you is … there's this intensity inside me all the time, this … constant pull, desperation … it's like you're branded on me or something. And it bloody well burns. ~ Samantha Young

Swallowing back her bitterness, Amelia glanced up at her brother and managed a rueful smile. "Thank you, but at this advanced stage of life, I have no ambitions to marry."
Leo surprised her by bending to brush a light kiss on her forehead. His voice was soft and kind. "Be that as it may, I think someday you'll meet a man worth giving up your independence for." He grinned before adding, "Despite your encroaching old age. ~ Lisa Kleypas

In any case, what would be the point of having all that, and you, darling Eve, if I can't have time with you, away from your work and mine?"
"I could probably take a week."
"I was thinking four."
"Four? Four weeks? That's a month."
His eyes laughed over the rim of his cup. "Is it now? I believe you're right."
"I can't take a month off. A month is like ... a month."
"As opposed to what? A chicken?"
"Ha. Look, maybe I could stretch it to ten days, but - "
"Three weeks."
Her forehead furrowed.
"We had to cancel plans for a quick weekend away twice this year. Once for your work, once for mine. Three weeks."
"I couldn't take more than two, even - "
"Two and a half. We split the difference." He handed her a fork.
She frowned at it. "You were always going for the two and a half. ~ J.D. Robb

Pressing the gun against his forehead, I locked eyes with his chaotic gaze. He begged me silently. He pleaded wordlessly. And no compassion filled me.

I hope you burn forever. ~ Pepper Winters

Hey," she whispered to Malachi. "When are Irin considered adults?"

He was following what looked to be a quiet argument between Sari and Mala. "Full adults? Around sixty to seventy-five years. When we're finished with our training. Why?"

She flushed. Wow.

"So, you're quite the cradle robber, aren't you?"

Malachi turned to her abruptly. "What? No, I'm not."

"I'm not even thirty. That's like... a teenager to you guys."

She could see the flush crawl up his neck, even behind the beard. "You're human. You mature differently."

"But I'm not really human."

His shoulders were stiff and his posture screamed his discomfort. It was really a shame Ava found teasing him to be so amusing.

"I mean, what would your mom say if she found out you were mated-and I mean well and thoroughly mated- to what she would basically consider a kid?"

He wiped a hand over his forehead. "Heaven above, please stop talking."

"So are we going to stop fooling around now?"

He groaned. "Ava."

"I'm just yanking your chain."

"You're going to have to speak up, because the mental lecture my mother's memory is giving me right now is rather loud. ~ Elizabeth Hunter

Sighing, he rubbed his forehead, leaving a smear of black ash. "I've temporally blocked the collective because I can't answer that many calls at once, but pretty soon, I'm going to be entertaining. Lots and lots of irate, angry demons in my tiny little living room. It will be embarrassing. My reputation will be utterly ruined. I don't have enough chairs," he finished nlightly, turning his lip in and chewing on it. (Al) ~ Kim Harrison

I don't like Botox. It makes a very strange forehead. ~ Carine Roitfeld

You are free to leave, as well." Khalid resumed his trek toward his chamber.
Jalal cut it front of Khalid. "You look terrible." His eyes were bright, and his forehead was lined with worry. ~ Renee Ahdieh

The diamond which shines in the Saviour's crown shall burn in unquenched beauty at last on the forehead of every human soul. ~ Theodore Parker

You asked what my intentions are, Mrs. Brenner, and I would like to answer your question." Dibs opened his mouth as if preparing to argue and she glared at him from across the table. Did he really think not to let her state her case in front of his family? He snapped his mouth shut and briskly rubbed a palm across his forehead before tossing that same hand in the air. "My intentions are these." She gathered her thoughts, folding her hands in her lap. "When David is sad, I intend to make him happy. When he is ill, I intend to make him well. When he is angry or upset, I intend to listen and find the words to make him feel better. When he is depressed, I intend to bring him joy, and when he is hurt, I intend to find the source of his pain and take it away from him." She bridged the distance to Dibs's devoted gaze, and radiant love crested the last barricade surrounding her heart. "You see, Mr. and Mrs. Brenner, I'm in love with your son. But I don't want anything from him. You don't need to worry because my only intention is to give to him. That's the way it's supposed to be when you love someone, isn't it? To think only of their needs, instead of your own?" She broke off from Dibs and faced his mother. "Those are my intentions, Mrs. Brenner. I hope you find them satisfactory. ~ A.J. Nuest

Ty:
Damn, he's fine.
Damn, he's a good quarterback.
Damn, he's nice and sweet.
Damn, he's a good kisser.
Damn, he's buff.
Damn, he's great to his family.
Damn, now that I know about Henry,
I'm not sure Ty and I are right for each other.
Henry:
I love the way his curls flop around and hang across his forehead.
I love how he never just lets me win. I have to earn it.
I love how he touches me just because.
I love his loyalty.
I love how when we sleep head-to-toe,
he always finds a reason to sleep head-to-head instead.
I love his unconditional support.
I love his spontaneity and crazy sense of humor.
I love his stupid dances.
I love....him. ~ Miranda Kenneally

Do I have clueless tattooed across my forehead?"
Narrowing my eyes,I leaned toward him. "Yeah,I think maybe you do. ~ Rachel Hawthorne

One of his hands finds its way through the expensive implanted follicles of hair that line his forehead. ~ Colleen Hoover

I think I want you," he said.
Georgie squeezed the hand he was holding to his chest, and used it as an anchor to pull herself closer. "You think..."
Neal licked his bottom lip and nodded. "I think..." The closer she was, the more he looked away. "I think I just want you," he said.
"Okay," Georgie agreed.
Neal looked surprised – he almost laughed. "Okay?"
She nodded, close enough to bump her nose up against his. "Okay. You can have me."
He pushed his forehead into hers, pulling his chin and mouth back. "Just like that."
"Yeah."
"Really," he said.
"Really," she promised. ~ Rainbow Rowell

Well, forgive the fuck out of me for being shocked senseless when I realized he wasn't dead. Why didn't you tell me he was the beast, Ryodan? Why did we have to kill him? I know it's not because he can't control himself when he's the beast. He controlled himself last night when he rescued me from the Book. He can change at will, can't he? What happened in the Silvers? Does the place have some kind of effect on you, make you uncontrollable?"
I almost slapped myself in the forehead. Barrons had told me that the reason he tattooed himself with black and red protection runes was because using dark magic called a price due, unless you took measures to protect yourself against the backlash. Did using IYD require the blackest kind of magic to make it work? Would it grant his demand to magically transport him to me no matter where I was but devolve him into the darkest, most savage version of himself as the price?
"It was because of how he got there, wasn't it?" I said. "The spell you two worked sent him to me like was it was supposed to, but the cost was that it turned him into the lowest common denominator of himself. An insane killing machine. Which he figured was all right, because if I was dying, I'd probably need a killing machine around. A champion to show up and decimate all my enemies. That was it, wasn't it?"
Ryodan had gone completely still. Not a muscle twitched. I wasn't sure he was breathing.
"He knew what would happen if I pressed IYD, and he made ~ Karen Marie Moning

Sleeping Wrestler

You are a murderer
No you are not, but really a wrestler
Either way it's just the same
For from the ring of your entangled body
Clean as leather, lustful as a lily
Will nail me down
On your stout neck like a column, like a pillar of tendons
The thoughtful forehead
(In fact, it's thinking nothing)
When the forehead slowly moves and closes the heavy eyelids
Inside, a dark forest awakens
A forest of red parrots
Seven almonds and grape leaves
At the end of the forest a vine
Covers the house where two boys
Lie in each others arms: I'm one of them, you the other
In the house, melancholy and terrible anxiety
Outside the keyhole, a sunset
Dyed with the blood of the beautiful bullfighter Escamillo
Scorched by the sunset, headlong, headfirst
Falling, falling, a gymnast
If you're going to open your eyes, nows the time, wrestler ~ Mutsuo Takahashi

Am I crazy?" she asked. "I feel like I am sometimes."
"Maybe," he said, rubbing her forehead. "But don't worry about it. You need to be a little bit crazy. Crazy is the price you pay for having an imagination. It's your superpower. Tapping into the dream. It's a good thing not a bad thing. ~ Ruth Ozeki

David's eyes widened. "Why would you want to do that?" He looked away. "I'm not even sure what that is."
I smacked Maggie on the arm.
"What?" she giggled. "He's hot." Her forehead crinkled. "Hey!" You just read my mind. That was sooo cool. Do it again."
"David backed away. "I'm a little afraid to. ~ Jennifer M. Eaton

Love's Question "
And is this all true,
My ever-loving friend?
That the lightning-flash of the light in my eyes
Makes the clouds in your heart explode and blaze,
Is this true?
That my sweet lips are red as a blushing new bride,
My ever-loving friend,
Is this true?

That a tree of paradise flowers withing me,
That my foosteps ring like vinas beneath me,
Is this true?
That the night sheds drops of dew at the sight of me,
That the dawn surrounds me with light from delight in me,
Is this true?
That the touch of my hot cheek intoxicates the breeze,
My ever-loving friend,
Is this true?

That daylight hides in the dark of my hair,
That my arms hold life and death in their power,
Is this true?
That the earth can be wrapped in the end of my sari,
That my voice makes the world fall silent to hear me,
Is this true?
That the univrse is nothing but me and what loves me,
My ever-loving friend,
Is this true?

That for me alone your love has been waiting
Through worlds and ages awake and wandering,
Is this true?
That my voice, eyes, lips have brought you relief,
In a trice, from the cycle of life after life,
Is this true?
That you read on my soft forehead inginite Truth,
My ever-loving friend,
Is this true? ~ Rabindranath Tagore

That's because you're in here, sweetheart. I'd walk through hell for you. I placed a kiss on her forehead, letting my lips linger for a moment. There was no way she could fully understand how monumental this was for me. All of this. Her stepping back in my life had set in motion a huge change inside of me. It felt like my heart had remembered how to beat again. ~ Teresa Mummert

Daemon pressed his forehead against mine. Oh, I still want to strangle you. But I'm insane. You're crazy. Maybe that's why. We just make crazy together. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

Fuming, I reach for the stick at my feet; however, this is the precise moment that a small black garter snake slithers out in front of me. I do what any normal fourteen-year-old girl would do: scream my head off, dance in spastic horror, and throw my tobacco knife into the dirt-completely missing the snake. I look to Luke for help, but he's laughing hysterically, which really gets my already hot blood boiling. Wrists on sweaty forehead, breathing totally out of control, I walk around in a circle until the disgusting little reptile slithers away.
I am-offically-over it. ~ Alecia Whitaker

What a strange, sad man is he!" said the child, as if speaking partly to herself. "In the dark night-time, he calls us to him, and holds thy hand and mine, as when we stood with him on the scaffold yonder! And in the deep forest, where only the old trees can hear, and the strip of sky see it, he talks with thee, sitting on a heap of moss! And he kisses my forehead, too, that the little brook would hardly wash it off! But here in the sunny day, and among all the people, he knows us not; nor must we know him! A strange, sad man is he, with is hand always over his heart! ~ Nathaniel Hawthorne

Right about now, he'd like to have a stamp that said "Mine, stay the hell away" to put right on her forehead. ~ Maya Banks

Will leans forward, pulls off his mask, and kisses my forehead. "I'm glad I was the one to save you this time
" he whispers. ~ Bethany Griffin

I think reading is sexy." Daemon smiled at himself.
My brows inched up my forehead. "Do you now?"
"Oh, yes, and you know what else I think is sexy?" he leaned forward so his entire face filled the picture and nodded his head toward me. "Bloggers like this. Hot." Rolling my eyes, I smacked his arm. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

Reason fourteen." I press my forehead against hers, locking her in my gaze. "You are so beautiful. Inside and out. I don't just need you. I crave you. Everything about you. You are the only person I've felt this way about. You're my best friend. ~ Becca Ann

Bonner leans his forehead against hers. Zig when they think you'll zag. Creation's Rule Number Two.
What's Number One? Els asks, willing to be this bent soul's straight man.
Zag when they think you'll zig. ~ Richard Powers

In other circumstances, if Jamie hadn't been so miserable, Ryan would have laughed. Jamie rarely got so pissed that he lost the thread of the conversation. "Yes, you are." Cradling Jamie's face, he brushed his lips against Jamie's forehead. "Everything will be fine, you'll see." He kissed Jamie's temple.

Jamie shuddered. "Don't. Not now. I can't - not now."

Frowning, Ryan pulled back to look at his friend.

Jamie was staring at him oddly, his lips parted and curled in half a grimace, his eyes gleaming with desperation. "I - " he said before suddenly lunging forward and closing the distance between their mouths.

For a moment, Ryan's alcohol-fogged brain couldn't understand what was going on.

Jamie was kissing him.

Jamie was kissing him. Or at least trying to, his lips clumsy and awkward but desperate and needy - so needy it was weirding Ryan out. ~ Alessandra Hazard

And cried for mamma, at every turn'-I added, 'and trembled if a country lad heaved his fist against you, and sat at home all day for a shower of rain.-Oh, Heathcliff, you are showing a poor spirit! Come to the glass, and I'll let you see what you should wish. Do you mark those two lines between your eyes, and those thick brows, that instead of rising arched, sink in the middle, and that couple of black fiends, so deeply buried, who never open their windows boldly, but lurk glinting under them, like devil's spies? Wish and learn to smooth away the surly wrinkles, to raise your lids frankly, and change the fiends to confident, innocent angels, suspecting and doubting nothing, and always seeing friends where they are not sure of foes-Don't get the expression of a vicious cur that appears to know the kicks it gets are its desert, and yet, hates all the world, as well as the kicker, for what it suffers.'
'In other words, I must wish for Edgar Linton's great blue eyes, and even forehead,' he replied. 'I do - and that won't help me to them.'
'A good heart will help you to a bonny face, my lad,' I continued, 'if you were a regular black; and a bad one will turn the bonniest into something worse than ugly. And now that we've done washing, and combing, and sulking - tell me whether you don't think yourself rather handsome? I'll tell you, I do. You're fit for a prince in disguise. Who knows, but your father was Emperor of China, and your mother an Indian queen, each of them ~ Emily Bronte

Did we have sex?" he asked directly.
For about two minutes, this might actually be fun. "Eric," I said, "we had sex in every position I could imagine, and some I couldn't. We had sex in every room in my house, and we had sex outdoors. You told me it was the best you'd ever had." (At the time he couldn't recall all the sex he'd ever had. But he'd paid me a compliment.) "Too bad you can't remember it," I concluded with a modest smile.
Eric looked like I'd hit him in the forehead with a mallet. For all of thirty seconds his reaction was completely gratifying. ~ Charlaine Harris

Since every mortal power of Coleridge Was frozen at its marvellous source, The rapt one, of the godlike forehead, The heaven-eyed creature sleeps in earth: And Lamb, the frolic and the gentle, Has vanished from his lonely hearth. ~ William Wordsworth

You know this is wrong."

It isn't a question. When he turns, White is still wrapped snug in the counterpane, motionless, just his gaze pursuing the doctor about the room. "I am wrong to do this." The doctor says it as if instructing himself. White says nothing. With a sigh, Archer sits on the edge of the bed, smoothing White's curls back from his forehead. "Do you know what we did last night?" To admit it, to speak out loud, seems in itself a terrible affront. It might be his imagination, but the doctor fancies he sees a slight lowering of black lashes, the tiniest quirk of a shy smile. He says, wearily but not without affection, "No, I don't suppose you do. ~ John T. Fuller

Pip winds his arms up around Lindsay's neck and kisses him back, and this time
he's the one to close his eyes and escape into darkness so there's nothing in the world except the soft curls under his
fingers and the touch of Lindsay's breath on his mouth and the slow, sliding friction.
"Lindsay, do you still hate me?"
"I do when I remember to," Lindsay says quietly, but he doesn't stop moving and he doesn't stop kissing him for a long time, on his trembling mouth and his sweaty forehead and his wet, closed eyes. ~ Richard Rider

1SA17.49 And David put his hand in his bag, and took thence a stone, and slang it, and smote the Philistine in his forehead, that the stone sunk into his forehead; and he fell upon his face to the earth. 1SA17.50 So David prevailed over the Philistine with a sling and with a stone, and smote the Philistine, and slew him; but there was no sword in the hand of David. ~ Anonymous

That kiss was hard, wet, long and involved a goodly deal of hand exploration, both his and mine. It was the kind of kiss you had to celebrate a momentous occasion. It was the kind of kiss you never forgot your whole life. When he broke the connection of our mouths, he rested his forehead to mine and whispered, I'll look forward to you making my house ours, Feb. ~ Kristen Ashley

Tied up and twisted; gnarled and knotted with wrinkles; haggardly firm and unyielding; his eyes glowing like coals, that still glow in the ashes of ruin; untottering Ahab stood forth in the clearness of the morn; lifting his splintered helmet of a brow to the fair girl's forehead of heaven. Oh, ~ Herman Melville

This was the only door she ever opened, the door into herself. And her taciturnity was such that in a mirror, where every woman smiles at her reflection, she struck at herself over and over again, hammering her own effigy at her dumb forge. No flame, no air. Clad in red velvet, adorned in white, in black or pearl, her face heavily made up beneath the large pale forehead. In the heart of her room, encircled by candelabras, nothing but herself; a self always unseizable, and whose many faces she was forever unable to assemble in a single look. ~ Valentine Penrose

Asmoday." She brushes her lips against his forehead. "You stupid, stupid idiot." Kisses each of his cheeks. "Why did you do that, you big dummy?"
He smiles at her. "I am not an expert, but I am fairly certain those are not correct terms of endearment. ~ Cheryl McIntyre

Hold my hands; kiss my forehead, hug me and look in my eyes; maybe today is the last day you can do this. ~ M.F. Moonzajer

There. I want to be like that. Able to just sit all quiet and pull life toward me, one forehead at a time. His name is supposedly Lyle. It was yrstruly and C and Poor Tony that crewed that day and everything like that. The ~ David Foster Wallace

In California the only way to look like you are getting older is to look like you are getting younger...if you can move your forehead over the age of forty, then people become very suspicious. ~ Matt Haig

The door vibrated with the soft bump of Travis' forehead against the door. "I don't want you leave, but I wouldn't blame you if you did. ~ Jamie McGuire

He seemed to be drinking in her face, looking at her instead of into her.
"Stop. Stop that. This isn't goodbye."
Blake pulled her left hand to his mouth and kissed her ring finger. "I'm still glad it's empty. He never deserved you. Of that, I'm very sure."
Livia saw moisture in his eyes. "You're saying goodbye. No. Here's what I'm sure of. I'll walk away from this house right now, wearing only what I have on my back and be happy. With you I can taste forever - it's right here." Livia pointed at her lips and then kissed his.
Blake allowed the kiss, but mumbled a question as well, "How many shotguns does he have?"
"Not enough to get me away from you." Livia traced his jaw.
Blake took her hand and kissed her palm, then her forehead, "Livia, go in there and let him talk to you. He's a father. I'd want to talk to my daughter at a moment like this. Let's give him that respect."
"I will not go in there. Where will you go?"
Livia felt a gentle tug on her heart. She was torn. She wanted to comfort her dad and get him to understand who Blake was, but in as little time as possible so she could get back to Blake.
"My inamorata, you know where I'll be: where I'll always be. Waiting. For you." Blake began putting the mask on.
Livia looked around wildly, feeling close to irrational. "I don't want you to go." These words were inadequate to express her need.
Blake smoothed her hair away from her face. "I've often wished I had a father. L ~ Debra Anastasia

Aren't you afraid they'll arrest you? (Shahara)
I wasn't a convict, Dagan. I was an illegally purchased slave. My owner has no legal claim on me. And I'm no longer a kid learning my powers. I'm a full-grown man with an ax I want to bury in the forehead of anyone dumb enough to come at me. I defy the bastards to try something now. (Nero) ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

Find a guy who calls you beautiful instead of hot, who calls you back when you hang up on him, who will lie under the stars and listen to your heartbeat, or will stay awake just to watch you sleep ... wait for the boy who kisses your forehead, who wants to show you off to the world when you are in sweats, who holds your hand in front of his friends, who thinks you're just as pretty without makeup on. One who is constantly reminding you of how much he cares and how lucky his is to have you ... The one who turns to his friends and says, 'that's her.' ~ Chuck Palahniuk

Friend. The word was like a bucket of ice water. He drew back slightly, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead on hers. ~ Susan Mallery

She kissed Mitch on the forehead. Hello, pretty kitty. ~ Shelly Laurenston

I realised something else tonight. Something about pancakes.'

'What about them?'

'We both got so obsessed about that first pancake being thrown away that we forgot something really important,' Max explained. 'That first pancake tastes just as good as all the other ones. It's not its fault that it was first in line and the pan wasn't hot enough so it got a bit lumpy and misshapen.'

'And when you're really famished that first pancake tastes better than all the ones that come after it,' Neve said, and then she couldn't wait any longer. Her arms were around Max before she'd even finished forming the thought, but his arms were around her too in that exact same moment.

Just having him there to hold, warm and solid and real, was enough for five seconds, and then she was peppering his face with kisses – his forehead, his eyebrows, the tip of his crooked nose, along his cheekbones until she reached the glittering prize of his mouth.

Sometimes Neve thought that her appetite was the most robust thing about her, and she didn't kiss Max so much as she devoured him. Graceless, messy kisses without any thought or reason, but simply because she hungered for him. Kissed him with everything she had and everything she was, and she didn't know why she could kiss Max and have him kiss her back with the same fierceness but still be greedy for the next kiss and the one after that and the one after that and the one… ~ Sarra Manning

As she stooped over him, her tears fell upon his forehead.
The boy stirred, and smiled in his sleep, as though these marks of pity and compassion had awakened some pleasant dream of a love and affection he had never known; as a strain of gentle music, or the rippling of water in a silent place, or the odour of a flower, or even the mention of a familiar word, will sometimes call up sudden dim remembrances of scenes that never were, in this life; which vanish like a breath; and which some brief memory of a happier existence, long gone by, would seem to have awakened, for no voluntary exertion of the mind can ever recall them. ~ Charles Dickens

I like your jumper," she said into it.

"You like my what?" Jared asked. Kami tugged at his sleeve in response and he laughed. "In the civilized land of the Americas, we call that a sweater. A jumper is a dress. You might as well have just said, 'Why, Jared, what a fetching frock you're wearing today.' "

"Why, Jared, what a fetching frock you're wearing today," Kami said instantly, raising her head so she could lift her face up to his. "You look ever so pretty."

Jared laughed, a soft huff of breath, and rested his forehead gently against hers. "Your frock's fairly fetching as well."

Kami closed her eyes, embarrassed to let him see she was happy he'd noticed. "Thanks."

"Not as fetching as mine, of course," Jared added. "I am the prettiest. ~ Sarah Rees Brennan

In the shade of the house, in the sunshine of the riverbank near the boats, in the shade of the Sal-wood forest, in the shade of the fig tree is where Siddhartha grew up, the handsome son of the Brahman, the young falcon, together with his friend Govinda, son of a Brahman. The sun tanned his light shoulders by the banks of the river when bathing, performing the sacred ablutions, the sacred offerings. In the mango grove, shade poured into his black eyes, when playing as a boy, when his mother sang, when the sacred offerings were made, when his father, the scholar, taught him, when the wise men talked. For a long time, Siddhartha had been partaking in the discussions of the wise men, practising debate with Govinda, practising with Govinda the art of reflection, the service of meditation. He already knew how to speak the Om silently, the word of words, to speak it silently into himself while inhaling, to speak it silently out of himself while exhaling, with all the concentration of his soul, the forehead surrounded by the glow of the clear-thinking spirit. He already knew to feel Atman in the depths of his being, indestructible, one with the universe. ~ Hermann Hesse

Darling, I'm the least perfect person in the world."
"Oh, we know you've make mistakes," Cassandra said cheerfully. "What Pandora meant was that you always appear to be perfect, which is all that really matters."
"Actually," Kathleen said, "that's not what really matters."
"But there's no difference between being perfect and seeming perfect as long as no one can tell," Cassandra said. "The result is the same, isn't it?"
Looking perturbed, Kathleen rubbed her forehead. "I know there's a good answer for that. But I can't think of what it is right now ~ Lisa Kleypas

When I came out of my mom's womb, I had 'sitcom' stamped on my forehead. ~ Sean Hayes

Angles from their former lofty positions in the sky. Their absence made everything look different, like a fresh haircut exposing a band of untanned skin on a forehead. Even from deep inside the kitchen, Luke could tell the trees were missing because everything was brighter, more open. Scarier. ~ Margaret Peterson Haddix

All night I have suffered; all night my flesh has trembled to bring forth its gift. The sweat of death is on my forehead; but it is not death, it is life! ~ Gabriela Mistral

She put her hand on her hip. "Where are you going?"
"To the boat. You called me Lord Bill again. That means we're cool."
Cerise slapped her forehead with the heel of her hand and followed him. ~ Ilona Andrews

Sitting on the divan, she touched a finger to the bullet wound in his chest. It seemed so small, so incapable of creating the exodus of blood which had drenched his clothes and skin as he lay in the hospital, waiting for her to claim him. Death has been instantaneous, they said, as if there were a relief in that. She did not want death to have been instantaneous; she wanted to have at least held his hand as he lay dying and said goodbye to him in terms other than the, 'Why are you doing again? You'll find nothing. Stay. Oh all right, go,' that had been her farewell to him that morning.

Stay. Stay. Stay. She should have repeated it like a madwoman, banged her head against the wall in a frenzy, hit him and wept. She should have said it just one more time, just a little more forcefully. She should have taken his dear, sweet head in her hands and kissed his eyes and forehead. Stay. ~ Kamila Shamsie

As high as the fire in me burns, Evie, I will stoke it in you."
"Sebastian..."She strained a little, and he pinned her more firmly against the table.
"It's my right to kiss you," he reminded her. "whenever I want, for as long as I want. That was our bargain."
She threw an agitated glance around the room, and he read her thoughts easily.
"I don't give a damn if anyone sees us. You're my wife." A smile chased across his lips. "My better half, to be certain." Leaning over her, he nuzzled into the fine tendrils that strayed over her forehead. His breath was hot and soft on her skin. "My prize... my pleasure and pain... my endless desire. I've never known anyone like you, Evie." His lips touched gently at the bridge of her nose and slid down to the tip. "You dare to make demands of me that no other woman would think of asking. And for now, I'll pay your price, love. But later you'll pay mine... over and over..." He caught her trembling lips with his, his hands cupping the back of her head. ~ Lisa Kleypas

To have a few things is a comfort, reward and privilege. To own much and plenty is a duty and task on one's forehead. To waste creates agony and miserableness. Having less is a teacher of hope and guidance yet above all life is paramount because life neither needs less or much. To love less is a celebration of life because life neither needs much or less. Life is greater than less or much; to love life is an appreciation of life that is incorruptible, that will lead to life without anxiety. ~ David Ssembajjo

We're together. You're mine. Which means, I give a shit. I'm always going to give a shit. We're going to fight, we're going to make mistakes, we're probably going to drive each other fucking crazy because, like I said earlier, you're a loon." I open my mouth to protest, but he keeps on talking. "Don't tell me I don't care about you, because it's bullshit. Don't tell me I'm not in this with you, because I am. I'm in it, sunshine. And I care - a hell of a lot more than I ever thought I would." He drops his forehead to rest against mine, and his voice loses a tiny bit of its edge. "This relationship - it's happening. You and me - we're partners. Equal partners, with equal feelings, and equal fucking chances of getting hurt. You got me? ~ Julie Johnson

I paused for a light at Hamilton and TWlfth and noticed the Nissan was running rough at idle. Two blocks later it backfired and stalled. I coaxed it into the center of the city. Ffft, ffft, ffft, KAPOW! Ffft, ffft, ffft, KAPOW!
A Trans Am pulled up next to me at a light. The Trans Am was filled with high school kids. One of them stuck his head out of the passenger-side window.
"Hey lady," he said. "Sounds like you got a fartmobile." I flipped him an Italian goodwill gesture and pulled the ball cap low on my forehead.
(Three to get Deadly) ~ Janet Evanovich

The Empress said, her own breath coming in gasps, lips against her daughter's cold forehead and soft hair - her hair at least was still the same, soft, delicate, sweet cobwebs. . . . ~ Vera Nazarian

Now you've done it." His tone was quietly playful.
I couldn't help it.I looked up at him questioningly.
"You've added a third word to your repitoire. Hi,thanks,and now yes." His lips turned up at the corners,and the heat rushed to my face. He noticed. "At least that much hasn't changed."
I turned back to my notebook,my hands trembling.
He leaned toward me. "Now that we have our first conversation out of the way, do you want to tell me where you've been?" From the way he spoke I knew his smile was gone.
I could feel little beads of sweat form on my forehead.
"You left me.Without a word," he said. He sounded tentative, as if he were trying to keep his voice even. I took in a deep breath,but I couldn't figure out what he was feeling. There wasn't one singular emotion that was stronger than the others. "Don't you have anything to say to me?"
He waited. My heart felt like it would burst through my chest into a million little pieces,and I could see this wasn't going to work.
I started to close my book.
"Don't-" he blurted, and I froze. "Don't go.You don't have to talk to me.I'm the one who should go." His voice sounded achingly sad. I could hear him packing his bag.
Say something.Say something. "Um..."
Jack paused, as if further movement might stop my words.
He was the reason I came back.I couldn't scare him off. As hard as it would be to talk to him,it would be much harder to watch him walk out that door. "No," I said. I ~ Brodi Ashton

He had a Cro-Magnon forehead, ~ S.M. Reine

Two hundred years from now, she had - I will? she thought wildly - stood in front of this portrait in the National Portrait Gallery, furiously denying the truth that it showed. Ellen MacKenzie looked out at her now as she had then; long-necked and regal, slanted eyes showing a humor that did not quite touch the tender mouth. It wasn't a mirror image, by any means; Ellen's forehead was high, narrower than Brianna's, and the chin was round, not pointed, her whole face somewhat softer and less bold in its features. But the resemblance was there, and pronounced enough to be startling; the wide cheekbones and lush red hair were the same. And around her neck was the string of pearls, gold roundels bright in the soft spring sun. ~ Diana Gabaldon

Stronger Than Time

Since I have set my lips to your full cup, my sweet,
Since I my pallid face between your hands have laid,
Since I have known your soul, and all the bloom of it,
And all the perfume rare, now buried in the shade;

Since it was given to me to hear on happy while,
The words wherein your heart spoke all its mysteries,
Since I have seen you weep, and since I have seen you smile,
Your lips upon my lips, and your eyes upon my eyes;

Since I have known above my forehead glance and gleam,
A ray, a single ray, of your star, veiled always,
Since I have felt the fall, upon my lifetime's stream,
Of one rose petal plucked from the roses of your days;

I now am bold to say to the swift changing hours,
Pass, pass upon your way, for I grow never old,
Fleet to the dark abysm with all your fading flowers,
One rose that none may pluck, within my heart I hold.

Your flying wings may smite, but they can never spill
The cup fulfilled of love, from which my lips are wet;
My heart has far more fire than you can frost to chill,
My soul more love than you can make my soul forget ~ Victor Hugo

You know what love is?"
Creed asked that and my eyes shot from the hair on his forehead to his.
"I ... " I swallowed again then, holding his eyes, I whispered, "Yes. I do. I know what love is, Creed."
I felt his big hand curl warm on the side of my face before I felt the pad of his thumb sweep across my lips again. He watched it move as he replied, "I do too, baby." His eyes came to mine. "I absolutely do. ~ Kristen Ashley

He closed his eyes. "I'm not like you." He laughed under his breath, but it wasn't happy sound. "You grew up in despreation and squalor, and yet you're able to hope and dream. I don't quite how you can, but I love you for it." He opened his black eyes, and she saw in them wonder and pain and vunerability. "You're much more courageous than I am, imp. I've had everything material handed to me on a golden platter, and yet I find it... difficult to hope as you do. Even more difficult, I think, to trust."

"To trust me?" she whispered, feeling hurt.

"No, never," he said fiercely. "To trust myself. To trust in the future, I suppose. To open my hands and let go of the reins of control and simply trust that things -my life, my family, our happiness- will turn out well." He frowned down at her. "Do you understand?"

"No," she said simply, but she smiled to take away the sting of the word. "No, because if you say you love me then I believe everything will turn out well. It simply must. For I love you, too."

He laid his forehead against hers. "I do love you, heart and soul and body, Alf, my imp. I love you now and forever, and I will trust and I will hope in your dreams and hope."

"That's all we need, really," she whispered. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke Of Pleasure

He bent his head and brushed my lips with his. His hair spilled against my forehead, sleek and startling. Shock held me immobile, shock - and something else. Part of me wanted to lean into him. ~ Ann Aguirre

I know what I want."
"Graham ... things can change."
"I need you, Soraya. I've never said that to another woman in my life." I leaned my forehead against her and whispered, "I need you. ~ Vi Keeland

He tucks his hands on the back of my head and rests his mouth on my forehead. I close my eyes. "I could stand here forever," he says. "In this place? This oh-so-classy motel room?" "That's the thing. It don't matter where. ~ Kristin Halbrook

Everyone has to start somewhere,' he says, his eyes dark and smoldering, his fingers seeking the scar on my face.
The one on my forehead. The one that's hidden under my bangs. The one he has no way of knowing about.
'Even Picasso had a teacher.' He smiles, withdrawing his hand and the warmth that came with it, returning to his painting, as I remind myself to breathe. ~ Alyson Noel

I press my lips to her forehead, pulling the covers up over us both. "Sleep, angel. You have me. I'm never letting you go." And with those words to her, she finally relaxes. ~ J. Daniels

And so Gollum found them hours later, when he returned, crawling and creeping down the path out of the gloom ahead. Sam sat propped against the stone, his head dropping sideways and his breathing heavy. In his lap lay Frodo's head, drowned in sleep; upon his white forehead lay one of Sam's brown hands, and the other lay softly upon his master's breast. Peace was in both their faces.
Gollum looked at them. A strange expression passed over his lean hungry face. The gleam faded from his eyes, and they went dim and grey, old and tired. A spasm of pain seemed to twist him, and he turned away, peering back up towards the pass, shaking his head, as if engaged in some interior debate. Then he came back, and slowly putting out a trembling hand, very cautiously he touched Frodo's knee--but almost the touch was a caress. For a fleeting moment, could one of the sleepers have seen him, they would have thought that they beheld an old weary hobbit, shrunken by the years that had carried him far beyond his time, beyond friends and kin, and the fields and streams of youth, an old starved pitiable thing. ~ J.R.R. Tolkien

kissed his forehead. ~ Vanessa Diffenbaugh

He listen something in my voice because he look up immediately. His eyes as blue as July sky. His long yellow hair fall like sunshine on his forehead and my finger burn from not touching it. ~ Thrity Umrigar

She crooned, twining her legs around his, pressing her forehead to his breastbone. It was all he needed. Easing her backward, supporting her until she lay upon his desk, he pumped into her in aching need while his heart threatened to burst inside and his pulse almost drowned out the praise and the most sacred of promises that he whispered in the language of his fathers. Telling her how hot arguing with her made him, how proud he was of how she stood up to him, he held her gaze while he took her, and even as she coalesced around him again, drawing him into the surging power of her heartbeat, her ultimate pleasure. ~ Jennifer Blake

Day snorted at him and rolled out of bed, groaning like an old man and God had to hold in his laugh at Day's wide-legged walk to the bathroom. He heard Day cleaning himself up and he thought to himself while he waited. He has a right to know. Day got back into bed and fully climbed on top of him, laying his head down on his chest. God laughed. "Uhh, sweetheart. You going to sleep like this?" "Yep. I've imagined sleeping like this for years," Day said settling in comfortably. God kissed Day's forehead and wrapped his arms around him, trying to calm his mind. Please don't have a nightmare. Not tonight. Just let this night be perfect. ~ A.E. Via

Do you really think we'll ever
"
"I do," he said with certainty, not letting me finish. He leaned over and kissed my forehead. "I know it, Sassenach, and so do you. You were meant to be a mother, and I surely dinna intend to let anyone else father your children. ~ Diana Gabaldon

Now that she was ruined, broken beyond belief. He wouldn't need her anymore. She collapsed and he rolled her over, staring into her eyes. He must have liked what he saw, as a grin broke out across his face. He tenderly kissed her forehead, stroking her hair in affection once again. "Why darlin', I do believe you are my favorite. ~ Cassia Brightmore

A child's (or an adult's) nervous system may detect danger or a threat to life when the child enters a new environment or meets a strange person. Cognitively, there is no reason for them to be frightened. But often, even if they understand this, their bodies betray them. Sometimes this betrayal is private; only they are aware that their hearts are beating fast and contracting with such force that they start to sway. For others, the responses are more overt. They may tremble. Their faces may flush, or perspiration may pour from their hands and forehead. Still others may become pale and dizzy and feel precipitously faint. ~ Stephen W. Porges

My eyes are glued to the television, watching intently for my message from Will, and sure enough, right before they go to commercial, he's on the screen. His hair is wet with sweat and plastered to his forehead, face is dirty, and he's breathing hard from exertion, but he grins at the camera and taps his nose with his forefinger, then points to the camera and mouths, "miss you."
Well, shit, he's sweet... Without over-thinking it, I pull my phone out and text him.
"Miss you,too,football star. ~ Kristen Proby

I waited, Rachel. I waited until you were old enough. I wasted my time looking for girls who came even remotely close to looking like you." His hand brushed through my hair as he studied it. "Long legs. Long, straight, near-black hair. Eyes the exact color of sapphires." A heavy sigh left him and his forehead creased. "But none of them were you. None of them had your temper; none of them had your fire for life. So none of them deserved to have your beauty." "Like Jenn." I realized it with dread and watched his face twist with a look of disgust. "Everything I've done up until this point has been for you and our future together. I only wish," he said against my lips, "that you would stop being so goddamn difficult. ~ Molly McAdams

Alf's nails wander around his forehead like nails do when wandering among memories and opening doors that have long been closed. ~ Fredrik Backman

May I rest with you, lass?"
"Are you feverish again?" She sat up at once as if she had neglected to ascertain his health first before she tried to rest.
"Nay, lass. I am well, but you appear to be shivering."
She glanced at Gunnolf, who quickly hid his grin and closed his eyes.
"Aye, you may," she said, and Niall tried not to show how eager he was to hold her close again.
Before she snuggled against his chest, she felt his forehead, just in case, and he took her hand and kissed it.
"No fever, aye?"
"You are fine, thank the Lord." And then she cuddled against his chest, and he believed, despite their circumstances, he had found a bit of heaven. ~ Terry Spear

People love to see public figures get taken down a notch, and by the same token, everyone loves to be the center of attention, even when there's a target on their forehead. ~ Jeff Ross

I'm not a big drinker and I've had enough secondhand smoke for this decade and the next, so ... "
Great. All she had to do was complain about the deafening volume of the music, and she might as well slap a sticker on her forehead saying old next to the one that already said nerd.
"Band's good, though," she added. "Country's not my thing, but the players are ... proficient." And great, now she sounded like a professor. Proficient. God.
But he was nodding. "Country's not my thing, either."
"But you have a cowboy hat," she said, and as soon as the words left her lips, she realized how stupid she sounded, no - not that she sounded, but that she was. ~ Suzanne Brockmann

When he went through the kitchen he kissed Rebeca on the forehead.
"Get those bad thoughts out of your head," he told her. "You're going to be happy. ~ Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Brick's detachment is at last broken through. His heart is accelerated; his forehead sweat-beaded; his breath becomes more rapid and his voice hoarse. The thing they're discussing, timidly and painfully on the side of Big Daddy, fiercely, violently on Brick's side, is the inadmissible thing that Skipper died to disavow between them. The fact that if it existed it had to be disavowed to "keep face" in the world they lived in, may be at the heart of the "mendacity" that Brick drinks to kill his disgust with. It may be the root of his collapse. Or maybe it is only a single manifestation of it, not even the most important. The bird that I hope to catch in the net of this play is not the solution of one man's psychological problem. I'm trying to catch the true quality of experience in a group of people, that cloudy, flickering, evanescent - fiercely charged! - interplay of live human beings in the thundercloud of a common crisis. Some mystery should be left in the revelation of character in a play, just as a great deal of mystery is always left in the revelation of character in life, even in one's own character to himself. This does not absolve the playwright of his duty to observe and probe as clearly and deeply as he legitimately can: but it should steer him away from "pat" conclusions, facile definitions which make a play just a play, not a snare for the truth of human experience. ~ Tennessee Williams

I want to play you…" He pressed his forehead to mine, closing his eyes. "I want to play your body like an instrument. ~ J.M. Warwick

Peter always had a 'best before' date stamped on his forehead," said Ruth. "People who live in their heads do. They start out well enough, but eventually they run out of ideas. And if there's no imagination, no inspiration to fall back on? Then what? ~ Louise Penny