GEMS OF THOUGHT.
A kiss from my mother made me a painter.
Benjamin West.
I came to feel how far above all fancy, pride, and fickle maidenhood, all earthly pleasure, all imagined good, was the warm tremble of a devout kiss.
Keats.
It is delightful to kiss the eyelashes of the beloved—is it not? But never so delightful as when fresh tears are on them.
Landor.
The fragrant infancy of opening flowers flowed to my senses in that opening kiss.
Southern.
Kisses are like grains of gold or silver found upon the ground, of no value themselves, but precious as showing that a mine is near.
George Villiers.
The first lesson which the infant is taught is to kiss; it is at once the language of infancy and the currency of childhood. The little passionless face as it rests upon its mother’s bosom is moulded into smiles by a kiss, and thus by love’s fruit sweet echo is produced. Who shall tell the mystery, the deep love and earnestness, the quiet joy, the proud hope, of a mother’s kiss? and what brow or cheek of all that have gone forth into the wide, wide world, but wears this heavenly jewel, as imperishable as the glance of a diamond?
Like Dian’s kiss, unasked, unsought,
Love gives itself, but is not bought.
Longfellow.
Pant on thy lip, and to thy heart be pressed;
Give all thou canst—and let me dream the rest.
Pope.
The gilliflower, the rose, is not so sweet
As sugared kisses be when lovers meet.
Burton.
Kisses are like creation, because they are made out of nothing and are very good.
Sam Slick.
He hath at will
More quaint and subtle ways to kill;
A smile or kiss, as he will use the art,
Shall have the cunning skill to break a heart.
Shirley.
You may conquer with the sword, but you are conquered by a kiss.
Heinsius.
Oliver Wendell Holmes says a kiss is “the twenty-seventh letter of the alphabet,—the love-labial which it takes two to speak plainly.”
I put my lips to the panel of the door, as a kiss for my dear, and came quietly down again, thinking that one of these days I would confess to the visit.
Dickens.
I picture you to myself as my hand glides over the paper. I think I see you, as you look on these words, and envy them the gaze of those dark eyes. Press your lips to the paper. Do you feel the kiss that I leave there?
Bulwer-Lytton.
He, from his very birth, cut off from the social ties of blood,—no mother’s kiss to reward the toils, or gladden the sports, of childhood,—no father’s cheering word up the steep hill of man.
Bulwer-Lytton.
Many a man and woman has been incensed and worshiped, and has shown no more feeling than is to be expected from idols. There is yonder statue in St. Peter’s, of which the toe is worn away with kisses, and which sits, and will sit eternally, prim and cold.
Thackeray.
Now let me say good-night, and so say you:
If you will say so, you shall have a kiss.
Shakspeare.