C.N. Douglas, comp. Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical. 1917.
Lips
Her lips blush deeper sweets.
There is life in the lips of true lovers.
Her lip are roses over-washed with dew.
He kissed me hard, as though he’d pluck up kisses by the roots that grew upon my lips.
Lips in whose rosy labyrinth, when she smiled, the soul was lost.
The lips of a fool shallow up himself.
Her lips, whose kisses pout to leave their nest.
Heart on her lip and soul within her eye.
A lip like Persuasion’s, calling on us to kiss it.
Lips moulded in love are tremulously full of the glowing softness they borrow from the heart, and electrically obedient to its impulse.
Her lips, though they were kept close with modest silence, yet, with a pretty kind of natural swelling, seemed to invite the guests that looked on them.