There are many varieties of kisses; as many, as the variety of lips and of the owners itself.
A kiss may mean so very much-or so very little.
Look not upon the lips when they are red for although a kiss is a small thing, so is a spark.
A smile is an open window; a kiss is an open door.
As strangely as it appears, that from the momentary contact of lip with lip, an infinitesimal surface of epithelial tissue, there is a called up from the deeps of the soul emotions strange as deep; emotions vague and thrilling; emotions to the which to give utterance those lips are themselves all powerless.
The value of a kiss is determined by the personage on whom it is bestowed, not from whom it is besought which, if it needs any explanation, means this, that it is the man who ardently desires the kiss that puts the value upon that kiss, not the woman of whom it is desired.
Yet women know that, as with commodities, so with kissing, the greater the rarity, the greater the value.
Who shall say to what kissing may lead? Besides, much more kissing than is supposed goes by purchase than by favor.
A woman who is afraid of a kiss knows much.
Amongst other things, perhaps, that kisses, like misfortunes, rarely come singly-and bear many things in their train.
It takes two to make a quarrel.
Yes and it takes two to make the reconciliation kiss.