lips (n.)
- alveolus
- apex
- back
- bag
- balls
- basket
- beard
- blade
- cervix
- chops
- clitoris
- cod
- dorsum
- embouchure
- gab
- genitalia
- genitals
- gob
- jaw
- kisser
- larynx
- lingam
- maw
- maxilla
- meat
- mouth
- mug
- mush
- muzzle
- nuts
- ovary
- palate
- penis
- phallus
- pharynx
- privates
- pudenda
- rocks
- scrotum
- syrinx
- teeth
- testes
- tip
- tongue
- trap
- uterus
- vagina
- velum
- vulva
- womb
- yap
Oh no! we never mention her,—
Her name is never heard;
My lips are now forbid to speak
That once familiar word.
Beauty's ensign yet
Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks,
And death's pale flag is not advanced there.
He from whose lips divine persuasion flows.
On the tongue of such an one they shed a honeyed dew, and from his lips drop gentle words.
'T is a little thing
To give a cup of water; yet its draught
Of cool refreshment, drained by fevered lips,
May give a shock of pleasure to the frame
More exquisite than when nectarean juice
Renews the life of joy in happiest hours.
Keep thy tongue from evil, and thy lips from speaking guile.
Oh that those lips had language! Life has pass'd
With me but roughly since I heard thee last.
Heart on her lips, and soul within her eyes,
Soft as her clime, and sunny as her skies.
Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. He hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now; your gambols, your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning? Quite chap-fallen? Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come.
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.
Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips.
I am Sir Oracle,
And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!
I am a man of unclean lips.
O hearts that break and give no sign
Save whitening lip and fading tresses!
Some asked me where the rubies grew,
And nothing I did say;
But with my finger pointed to
The lips of Julia.
Like the best wine, . . . that goeth down sweetly, causing the lips of those that are asleep to speak.
Besides, this Duncan
Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been
So clear in his great office, that his virtues
Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against
The deep damnation of his taking-off;
And pity, like a naked new-born babe,
Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubim, horsed
Upon the sightless couriers of the air,
Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye,
That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur
To prick the sides of my intent, but only
Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself,
And falls on the other.
Reproof on her lips, but a smile in her eye.
With that she dasht her on the lippes,
So dyed double red:
Hard was the heart that gave the blow,
Soft were those lips that bled.
With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye.
All kin' o' smily round the lips,
An' teary round the lashes.
With that she dasht her on the lippes,
So dyed double red:
Hard was the heart that gave the blow,
Soft were those lips that bled.
O love! O fire! once he drew
With one long kiss my whole soul through
My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew.
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.
O suffering, sad humanity!
O ye afflicted ones, who lie
Steeped to the lips in misery,
Longing, yet afraid to die,
Patient, though sorely tried!
Was this the face that launch'd a thousand ships,
And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?
Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss!
Her lips suck forth my soul: see, where it flies!
Take, O, take those lips away,
That so sweetly were forsworn;
And those eyes, the break of day,
Lights that do mislead the morn:
But my kisses bring again, bring again;
Seals of love, but sealed in vain, sealed in vain.
The talk of the lips tendeth only to penury.
Dear as remember'd kisses after death,
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign'd
On lips that are for others; deep as love,—
Deep as first love, and wild with all regret.
Oh death in life, the days that are no more!
The mossy marbles rest
On the lips that he has prest
In their bloom;
And the names he loved to hear
Have been carved for many a year
On the tomb.
Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. He hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now; your gambols, your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning? Quite chap-fallen? Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come.
Take, O, take those lips away,
That so sweetly were forsworn;
And those eyes, the break of day,
Lights that do mislead the morn:
But my kisses bring again, bring again;
Seals of love, but sealed in vain, sealed in vain.
Like the best wine, . . . that goeth down sweetly, causing the lips of those that are asleep to speak.
See my lips tremble and my eyeballs roll,
Suck my last breath, and catch my flying soul.
Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway,
And fools who came to scoff, remain'd to pray.
'T is sweet to think that where'er we rove
We are sure to find something blissful and dear;
And that when we 're far from the lips we love,
We 've but to make love to the lips we are near.
'T is sweet to think that where'er we rove
We are sure to find something blissful and dear;
And that when we 're far from the lips we love,
We 've but to make love to the lips we are near.
Their lips were four red roses on a stalk.
Her lips were red, and one was thin;
Compared with that was next her chin,—
Some bee had stung it newly.
Or whispering with white lips, "The foe! They come! they come!"
