Stolen kisses are unexpected, and sometimes unwanted, gestures of passion or affection.

Stolen sweets are always sweeter, / Stolen kisses much completer. —Leigh Hunt

Quotes edit

  • Cum flagrantia detorquet ad oscula
    Cervicem aut facili saevitia negat
    Quae poscente magis gaudeat eripi,
        Interdum rapere occupet?
    • Horace, Odes ii. 12. 25–28.
      • Say, would you change for all the wealth possest
          By rich Achæmenes or Phrygia's heir,
        Or the full stores of Araby the blest,
                One lock of her dear hair,
        While to your burning lips she bends her neck,
          Or with kind cruelty denies the due
        She means you not to beg for, but to take,
                Or snatches it from you?
  • My ghostly fader, I me confess,
    First to God and then to you,
    That at a window, wot ye how,
    I stale a kosse of gret swetness,
    Which don was out avisiness—
    But it is doon, not undoon, now.
    My ghostly fader, I me confess,
    First to God and then to you.
    But I restore it shall, doutless,
    Agein, if so be that I mow;
    And that to God I make a vow,
    And elles I axe foryefness.
    My ghostly fader, I me confesse,
    First to God and then to you.
  • Si ne me sceut tant detrayner,
    Fouler au piez, que ne l'amasse,
    Et m'eust il fait les rains trayner,
    Si m'eust dit que je le baisasse,
    Que tous mes maulx je n'oubliasse.
    Le glouton, de mal entechié,
    M'embrassoit…. J'en suis bien plus grasse!
    Que m'en reste il? Honte et pechié.
    • François Villon, «Les Regrets De La Belle Hëaulmiere»
      • Though I gat bruises green and black,
          I loved him never the less a jot;
        Though he bound burdens on my back,
          If he said “Kiss me and heed it not”
          Right little pain I felt, God wot,
        When that foul thief’s mouth, found so sweet,
          Kissed me—Much good thereof I got!
        I keep the sin and the shame of it.
      • Ill as he used me, and howe’er
          Unkind, I loved him none the less:
        Even had he made me faggots bear,
          One kiss from him or one caress,
          And I forgot my every stress.
        The rogue! ’twas ever thus the same
          With him. It brought me scant liesse:
        And what is left me? Sin and shame.
        • John Payne, "The Complaint of the Fair Helm-maker Grown Old"
  • Love guards the roses of thy lips
      And flies about them like a bee;
    If I approach he forward skips,
      And if I kiss he stingeth me.
  • Venus, and young Adonis sitting by her,
      Under a myrtle shade began to woo him:
    She told the youngling how god Mars did try her,
      And as he fell to her, so fell she to him.
    ‘Even thus,’ quoth she, ‘the wanton god embraced me’
      (And then she clasped Adonis in her arms);
    ‘Even thus,’ quoth she, ‘the warlike god unlaced me,’
      As if the boy should use like loving charms.
    But he, a wayward boy, refused her offer,
      And ran away, the beauteous queen neglecting,
    Showing both folly to abuse her proffer,
      And all his sex of cowardice detecting.
        O that I had my mistress at that bay,
        To kiss and clip me till I ran away!
  • She shall be dignified with this high honour—
    To bear my lady's train, lest the base earth
    Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss
    And, of so great a favour growing proud,
    Disdain to root the summer-swelling flower
    And make rough winter everlastingly.
  • So soon was she along, as he was down,
    Each leaning on their elbows and their hips:
    Now doth she stroke his cheek, now doth he frown,
    And ’gins to chide, but soon she stops his lips;
      And kissing speaks, with lustful language broken,
      ‘If thou wilt chide, thy lips shall never open.’
    He burns with bashful shame; she with her tears
    Doth quench the maiden burning of his cheeks;
    Then with her windy sighs and golden hairs
    To fan and blow them dry again she seeks:
      He saith she is immodest, blames her miss;
      What follows more she murders with a kiss.
    Even as an empty eagle, sharp by fast,
    Tires with her beak on feathers, flesh and bone,
    Shaking her wings, devouring all in haste,
    Till either gorge be stuff’d or prey be gone;
      Even so she kiss’d his brow, his cheek, his chin,
      And where she ends she doth anew begin.
  • Thou art no man, though of a man’s complexion,
    For men will kiss even by their own direction.’
  • Rich preys make true men thieves; so do thy lips
      Make modest Dian cloudy and forlorn,
      Lest she should steal a kiss and die forsworn.
  • More honourable state, more courtship lives
    In carrion flies than Romeo. They may seize
    On the white wonder of dear Juliet’s hand
    And steal immortal blessing from her lips;
    Who, even in pure and vestal modesty,
    Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin.
  • Now gentle sleep hath closèd up those eyes,
    Which waking kept my boldest thoughts in awe,
    And free access unto that sweet lip lies
    From whence I long the rosy breath to draw.
    Methinks no wrong it were if I should steal,
    From those two melting rubies, one poor kiss.
    None sees the theft that would the thief reveal,
    Nor rob I her of aught which she can miss.
    Nay, should I twenty kisses take away,
    There would be little sign I had done so.
    Why then should I this robbery delay?
    Oh, she may wake, and therewith angry grow.
      Well, if she do, I’ll back restore that one,
      And twenty hundred thousand more for loan.
  • Now let us kiss. Would you be gone?
    Manners at least allows me one.
    Blush you at this? pretty one, stay,
    And I will take that kiss away.
    Thus with a second, and that too
    A third wipes off; so will we go
    To numbers that the stars outrun,
    And all the atoms in the sun.
  • How does my love pass the long day?
      Does Mary not tend a few sheep?
    Do they never carelessly stray
      While happily she lies asleep?
    Should Tweed’s murmurs lull her to rest,
      Kind nature indulging my bliss,
    To ease the soft pains of my breast
      I’d steal an ambrosial kiss.
  • The kiss, snatch’d hasty from the sidelong maid,
    On purpose guardless, or pretending sleep:
  • Stolen sweets are always sweeter,
    Stolen kisses much completer,
    Stolen looks are nice in chapels,
    Stolen, stolen, be your apples.
    • Leigh Hunt, "Song of Fairies Robbing an Orchard",
      Tattler (8 September 1830); Poetical Works (1832)
  • ‘I saw you take his kiss!’ ‘’Tis true.’
      ‘O, modesty!’ ‘’Twas strictly kept:
    ‘He thought me asleep; at least, I knew
      ‘He thought I thought he thought I slept.’
  • She accepted these terms, and slid off on the near side, though not till he had stolen a cursory kiss.
  • If I steal a kiss, dear, I'll surely return it someday
    If I steal your dreams, dear, I'll bring them back some way.

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