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I hadn't fallen through his arms. He was ripped from mine.
The feeling of losing oneself in somebody's arms, yet at the same time finding oneself there, is irreplaceable. Nothing compares to the intensity of that feeling.
With the most infinite tenderness I have ever known in my life, he put his arms around me, gently, gently, and I embraced him around the neck, and we touched.
My mother is a realist, and she's had biological and adoptive children, and she said it's no different: No matter what, they're putting a stranger into your arms. You don't know them yet.
I'm an emotional person. I love music that moves me and makes the hair on my arms stand up. And I want the same thing in relationships. Either you can keep up or you can't.
You can't just build a huge chest and arms. You need to work out your body evenly. Otherwise, A, you'll look weird, and B, it's not the best for your body.
Y'all really think Ms. Shakur, or Ms. Wallace, Or Ms. Mizell from out in Hollis Wouldn't exchange the love and fame Attached to their loved ones' names Just to have 'em still alive in their arms?
He's just a little unbalanced and lonely." He put his arms around my waist, frowning. "Can't he be lonely and unbalanced around someone else's girlfriend?" "I'll suggest it.
You can make change or it can make YOU. Change is to keep us on our toes. Change is to make us look more closely. What doesn't change are the arms you use to hug with. Those stay the same.
Nicky looked down at me with a knowledge on his face that he was holding the monster in his arms. I'd have comforted him, but it would have been all lies.
I took to the Bodleian Library as to a lover and ... would sit long hours in Bodley's arms, to emerge, blinking and dazed with the smell and feel of all those books.
I've always been the type of person - you know, I kind of am extreme. So you know, I'm not, like, oh, let me get one tattoo. It's, like, my old whole arm has to be covered.
All in the golden afternoon Full leisurely we glide; For both our oars, with little skill, By little arms are plied, While little hands make vain pretence Our wanderings to guide.
Pretend you're mine," he urged, his arms closing around her. "Just for a minute. Pretend there's never been anyone but me, that I'm the one you're promised to. Do it for me....I'll never ask again.
You know," I told him on our wedding night, "I'm just as much me when I'm with you, as I am without you." And because Hardy understood what I meant, he pulled me into his arms, against his heart.
...just a little touches her and there. He puts his hands on your arms or back, he stands close to you, getting you used to him... it's a mating ritual. Like March of the Penguins.
The bite of existence did not cut into one in Hollywood ... Life elsewhere was real and slippery and struggled in the arms like a big fish dying in air.
The room went dark and, after a moment, Grace whispered that she loved me, sounding a little sad. I wrapped my arms tightly around her shoulders, sorry that loving me was such a complicated thing.