When you are corn and roses and at rest I shall endure, a dense and sanguine ghost To haunt the scene where I was happiest To bend above the thing I loved the most
The first girl I kissed was a suburbanite.
I had my first real kiss at Magic Mountain on a park bench. Not the most romantic thing ever.
But that mimosa grove-the haze of stars, the tingle, the flame, the honey-dew, and the ache remained with me, and that little girl with her seaside limbs and ardent tongue haunted me ever since-until at last, twenty-four years later, I broke her spell by incarnating her in another.
And it was awfully strange, he thought, how she still had the power, as she came tinkling, rustling, still had the power as she came across the room, to make the moon, which he detested, rise at Bourton on the terrace in the summer sky.
Everybody has their first love. I think it goes back to being in love with the idea of being in love. Everybody wants love, and your first love is special. You've never experienced anything like that. It's good to have a fond memory of it.
My most romantic job: I was a manager at Baskin-Robbins.
Whenever you're in a relationship, you have that favorite song that reminds you of when you first got together or when you first kissed, and then every time you hear that song, it reminds you of that person.
The only song I can sing is 'Lady in Red' so that must tell you how great it must have been.
Forever made that kiss stand out in my mind, touch my heart, make me remember a kiss so tender.
Moments of their secret life together burst like stars upon his memory.
Fair as the moon and joyful as the light; Tot wan with waiting, not with sorrow dim; Not as she is, but was when hope shone bright; Not as she is, but as she fills his dreams.
Reminds me of the red dress you wore the first time I had you. That was it for me, you know. You devastated me. There was no coming back from that.
He could not forget the touch of her arms around his neck, impatiently felt as it had been at the time; but now the recollection of her clinging defence of him, seemed to thrill him through and through,—to melt away every resolution, all power of self-control, as if it were wax before a fire.
Remembrance of our kiss brings not your lips nor mine to mind. The flesh can only envy consumption so divine.
I've kissed in the rain so many times. I think one of my first kisses was in the rain. It was in Washington, D.C., with some kid named Dash, in eighth grade. It was in the rain.
He would remember their kiss forever. She wouldn’t recall him at all.’ (Wulf)
In my life I doubt if I will ever forget the sensation of your lips against mine
It was a kiss from the past.
If I should see your eyes again, I know how far their look would go -- Back to a morning in the park With sapphire shadows on the snow. Or back to oak trees in the spring When you unloosed my hair and kissed The head that lay against your knees In the leaf shadow's amethyst. And still another shining place We would remember -- how the dun Wild mountain held us on its crest One diamond morning white with sun. But I will turn my eyes from you As women turn to put away The jewels they have worn at night And cannot wear in sober day.
September morn Do you remember how we danced that night away Two lovers playing scenes from some romantic play September morning still can make me feel this way.
Sometimes when I'm alone, I take the pearl from where it lives in my pocket and try to remember the boy with the bread, the strong arms that warded off nightmares on the train, the kisses in the arena.
One of my favorite stories is my first kissing scene with Linda Gray.
I have memories of being in Yale five years ago. It was December and so damn cold that while professing love to my leading lady and singing a Bollywood ditty which went something like this, Kabhie alvida na kehna – my mouth froze itself to death. I say death because as I inched closer to kiss her, mouthing the words kabhi alvida na… my mouth and jaw just locked.
She was my first love, and I loved her as only a boy loves.
