“And the fifth year was the year they discovered the giant boulder at the edge of the playing field, behind which the recess teacher couldn’t see what was happening. It was the year of their first kiss—or kisses, rather—there one and only foray into romance with each other. They tried it once with their lips closed tightly, a small quick peck, and then again, they tried it by touching their tongues together. The sensation was slippery, supple, and foreign. They both immediately agreed that it was gross and swore they would never do it again.”

“I kissed her again, tenderly touching my lips to hers. “Now what?”“Kiss the kids, and then you and I can celebrate eleven years of in-your-face-we-made-it. How about that?”

“It was the kiss of a man who had waited years for the moment, and feared that it would never come again.”

“When their lips met, and their tongues touched, it was like they were kissing in a hundred different places, and her senses were flooded with new sensations and old memoires. He kissed her, and their souls melted into each other in a melody older than time.”

“I would take a thousand years of suffering again for even one day, one kiss, of hers.” Max Kleon - Men of the Cave”

“And our lips. There isn't enough skin, enough spit, enough time, for the lost years that our lips are trying to make up for as they find each other. We kiss. The electric current switches to high. The lights throughout all of Brooklyn must be surging.”