Two Hearts In Sync Quotes

Sometimes it's just timing, Logan. Two hearts can beat as one, even if they aren't synced. Maybe that's what it was with you two. Maybe you just need to find the right rhythm, the right timing. Maybe now's that time for you guys

Are you kidding?” Sophie and Fitz asked, once again in perfect unison. Elwin chuckled. “I’m sure if Keefe were here, he’d have a lot to say about how in sync you two are getting.” “Just more proof that Fitzphie’s the best,” Fitz told him, with a wink that shouldn’t have made Sophie’s heart flutter. But hearts could be foolish things.

Our souls danced in magic, but reality wore thin. Two lovers who kept getting it wrong - Our timing always out of sync. A telepathy between our hearts, but our human keeps getting it wrong. A new melody but the same old song. Apart, but together - on the road we travel on. We'll never be out of touch our souls are too interwined - but we'll be out of reach , walking paths of a different kind, promised to find eachother first next life.

Joe pulled me gently into his arms. We held each other, and soon our hearts were beating together in sync as if there were only one heart beating instead of two.

Hands so delicate, Melt into mine Fingers intertwined Palms full of sunshine your heart and mine soulfully synced two beats into one.

Do you feel that, Elise?” Ryder asked. My lips parted to tell him I had no idea what he meant but before I could, I realised what it was. My pulse was utterly in sync with his. Our two hearts beating to the same pace.

Azami shuddered, her lips trembling, and then she consumed him as aggressively and as honestly as he did her. He felt her inside of his mind, running like lava through his veins, wrapping around his heart and filling his very bones with her. “This is madness,” she whispered against his mouth when they both came up for air. Her dark eyes searched his face. Sam didn’t have any answers. He knew she was right. They might be on opposite sides in a deadly war, yet he couldn’t let her go. She fit with him. The world around them was out of sync, not the two of them. “I know,” he admitted as he rested his forehead against hers, looking into her eyes. “What are we going to do now?” A slow smile curved his mouth. “I really expected you to kill me so I wouldn’t have to figure that part out.” She blinked, her black fan of thick silky lashes fluttering as wildly as her heart. She moistened her lips. “You’re not getting off that easily.” Sam watched the dawning smile, the way her soft mouth curved and the warmth spread to her dark eyes with absolute fascination. “Well. Damn.

The front door is locked—what’s up with that?” “Logan fixed the lock,” I tell her. Her bright red, heart-shaped mouth smiles. “Good job, Kevin Costner. You should staple the key to Ellie’s forehead, though, or she’ll lose it.” She has names for the other guys too and when her favorite guard, Tommy Sullivan, walks in a few minutes later, Marlow uses his. “Hello, Delicious.” She twirls her honey-colored, bouncy hair around her finger, cocking her hip and tilting her head like a vintage pinup girl. Tommy, the fun-loving super-flirt, winks. “Hello, pretty, underage lass.” Then he nods to Logan and smiles at me. “Lo . . . Good morning, Miss Ellie.” “Hey, Tommy.” Marlow struts forward. “Three months, Tommy. Three months until I’m a legal adult—then I’m going to use you, abuse you and throw you away.” The dark-haired devil grins. “That’s my idea of a good date.” Then he gestures toward the back door. “Now, are we ready for a fun day of learning?” One of the security guys has been walking me to school ever since the public and press lost their minds over Nicholas and Olivia’s still-technically-unconfirmed relationship. They make sure no one messes with me and they drive me in the tinted, bulletproof SUV when it rains—it’s a pretty sweet deal. I grab my ten-thousand-pound messenger bag from the corner. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before. Elle—you should have a huge banger here tonight!” says Marlow. Tommy and Logan couldn’t have synced up better if they’d practiced: “No fucking way.” Marlow holds up her hands, palms out. “Did I say banger?” “Huge banger,” Tommy corrects. “No—no fucking way. I meant, we should have a few friends over to . . . hang out. Very few. Very mature. Like . . . almost a study group.” I toy with my necklace and say, “That actually sounds like a good idea.” Throwing a party when your parents are away is a rite-of-high-school passage. And after this summer, Liv will most likely never be away again. It’s now or never. “It’s a terrible idea.” Logan scowls. He looks kinda scary when he scowls. But still hot. Possibly, hotter. Marlow steps forward, her brass balls hanging out and proud. “You can’t stop her—that’s not your job. It’s like when the Bush twins got busted in that bar with fake IDs or Malia was snapped smoking pot at Coachella. Secret Service couldn’t stop them; they just had to make sure they didn’t get killed.” Tommy slips his hands in his pockets, laid back even when he’s being a hardass. “We could call her sister. Even from an ocean away, I’d bet she’d stop her.” “No!” I jump a little. “No, don’t bother Liv. I don’t want her worrying.” “We could board up the fucking doors and windows,” Logan suggests. ’Cause that’s not overkill or anything. I move in front of the two security guards and plead my case. “I get why you’re concerned, okay? But I have this thing—it’s like my motto. I want to suck the lemon.” Tommy’s eyes bulge. “Suck what?” I laugh, shaking my head. Boys are stupid. “You know that saying, ‘When life gives you lemons, make lemonade’?—well, I want to suck the lemon dry.” Neither of them seems particularly impressed. “I want to live every bit of life, experience everything it has to offer, good and bad.” I lift my jeans to show my ankle—and the little lemon I’ve drawn there. “See? When I’m eighteen, I’m going to get this tattooed on for real. As a reminder to live as much and as hard and as awesome as I can—to not take anything for granted. And having my friends over tonight is part of that.” I look back and forth between them. Tommy’s weakening—I can feel it. Logan’s still a brick wall. “It’ll be small. And quiet—I swear. Totally controlled. And besides, you guys will be here with me. What could go wrong?” Everything. Everything goes fucking wrong.

Even after all these years we were like two magnets inexplicably drawn to each other. Our stares unwavering, our chests rising and falling in sync, our eyes mysteriously glued to each other’s. And God, his face. Gone was the boy. Gone were the soft curves and boyish features. And in their place was a devastating man. I didn’t know this face. His jaw was square and hard and covered in a delicious, dark stubble I wanted to rub my cheek against. His once bright, caring eyes were hot and unyielding on mine. It didn’t take away from his beauty at all. Adam Nova had been gorgeous at nineteen. At twenty-nine he was the stuff dreams were made of. And I didn’t dream anymore. I pulled my gaze away, shaken to my core. If I thought it was going to be hard to see him, I’d been dead wrong. This was way past hard. It was impossible. I should have packed my bags and gotten the hell out of town because there was no way this was going to work. Not at all. He was going to mutilate my heart. It was almost broken with just a simple stare.

so, then perhaps the marriage cake is intended not only to presage but also to influence, a test not only of how far two people are willing to go for each other but also of how much they are willing to change, and if in that willingness to transform, like the seahorses altering their rhythms to sync their hearts to each other, lies the answer to becoming one.

Diver said something to me, about how it's amazing love ever happens at all. Think about it. Two people have to get their brains and their hearts and . . . other elements of their anatomy . . . all in sync. And then the circumstances of their lives have to be in sync too.

In many ways, this chemical medium behaves like the human sexual response. Sexual arousal and recovery depend on the properties of nerve tissue, which, like Zhabotinsky soup, belongs to a general class of systems called excitable media. A neuron has three states: quiescent, excited, and refractory. Normally a neuron is quiescent. With inadequate stimulation, it shows little response and returns to rest. But a sufficiently provocative stimulus will excite the neuron and cause it to fire. Next it becomes refractory (incapable of being excited for a while) and finally returns to quiescence. The parallels with chemical waves extend to action potentials, the electrical waves that propagate along nerve axons. They too travel without attenuation, and when two of them collide, they annihilate each other. In fact, all of these statements are equally true of electrical waves in another excitable medium: the heart. That’s the beauty of this abstraction—the qualitative properties of one excitable medium hold for them all. They can all be studied in one stroke.

Red wine and Hennessy She fell out of her bottle when she fell into love, cup running over, overflowing emotions in glass- red stained palet, on a pallet on the grass, to a quilt on the floor -affixed between lips and red lipstick on a shirt that he wore. A familiar place, she know she's been here before Reminiscent of the evening On his shirt that she tore ............ Drop by drop, puddle in glass getting lower- impressions in her gut, rim of her glass, hour glass figure moves counter clockwise - while absorbing the contents of merlot. Hard liquor and fine wine ............. Red Wine and Hennessy A wicked twist on some champagne tips French nails, manicures over grapes Whoever said wine and liquor don't mix? Last night I had six Bottle caps, corks, bedazzled juice Merlot was her name - slim waist - good taste slinger neck, red lace. Long stem, pedestal - hands embraced her face ............. room temperature, her body temperature ... personality of two, she's mellow and chill... aged to perfection- pop the seal- watch the erection ... splatters on the floor- covers the rug, Residue of red lipstick- Merlot stained lips match the kiss on his neck ............ Chasing fantasy through the Red Sea While chasing that with a white BC How much will she pour- how much will she drink How much more before her ship sinks ........... A full body lush, blackberry crush Medium sized Bordeaux Intense velvety plum I asked her where she's from She said she's international She's longer thinking rational .......... Sips in sync with blinking eyes She sips too much to realize Every time you pour into me, my bottle gets more empty- Glass falling to the floor She staggers to the door Glass shatters her feet She stumbles to her seat She's still asking for more But she falls to the floor Red lipstick in the mud She covers up the blood ............ She lays in her wine She forgot about the time Clock on the wall Footsteps in the hall Pounding in her head She rushes to the bed ......... She lays motionless ... but her head is racing Her heart is pacing Her lungs are gasping - air, she needs air Rolls to her side, brings her self to sit up She gags and gags until She throws it all up- ........... Wakes up the next morning Dazed and confused She's laying in a bed That she's not used to She moves slowly, where did everyone go? She checks the time- it's a quarter pass 4 sounds on the other side of the door Are Muffled by the sound of a knock at the door ........... Looks around for her little red dress Notices a blotch - a red stain on her breast Lipstick smeared an accessory to her mess She reached for her clothes and saw a note on the desk. .......... Dearly beloved, I want to see you again I'd love to have to back I think we make a great blend I tried to wake you Because I had to go And Oh by the way, my name is merlot "Little Black Bird

My pulse was utterly in sync with his. Our two hearts beating to the same pace.

You told me that you will always be there for me if I ever needed you…I need to fall asleep to the lullaby of your heartbeat once again. You see, you told me once that when two eyes meet, the beats of our hearts will sync and my heart can’t dance without the sound of yours. I need to memorize the rhythm of your breath on my skin. I need to feel safe in the shelter of your arms and be calmed by your laughter. I long to taste your smile once more as your hand dances across my skin. I need to look into the blue gray eyes that catch the rays of sun just right…I need you now.

His heart hammers against me, and mine matches its pace, two metronomes falling into sync.

Stan landed on my shoulder while I positioned the gems in front of the central wiring hubs, and once the two of us exchanged a nod, I sent out a surge of magic to embed the gems into the eight sentries at the same time. My heart pounded heavy with anticipation as the gems began to give off a steady pulse, and none of us said a word while we waited for the machines to wake up. After a few seconds, the eyes on the steel helms ignited with a blaze of white, and as the collective power of their magical gems shot through my veins, I knew these guys would be a force to be reckoned with. Not only were their personalities distinctly alert, but the energy they gave off was crisp and unyielding, and when their helms slowly turned to look my way, the pulse of the eight gems fell in sync with one another. “Welcome to the army, boys,” I said with a deadly grin. “I’m Mason Flynt.” Then the eight metal soldiers raised their right arms and saluted in unison, and the barrels of their rifles tipped toward the sky at attention.

His attentive and careful listening inspired me to be more than the perfect version of myself that I showed to the world.

As if the future was subtly bringing us closer, crafting the next chapter of our tale without our words ever having to be said.

He took everything in with an air of ceremonial deference, as if the act itself had meaning beyond what was there in the text.

The hug caught me off guard, but I quickly enveloped her in my arms. She was so close, her head resting lightly against my chest, that I could feel her heartbeat. It was fast, and erratic, like mine. But then, as if drawn by some invisible force, our heartbeats began to sync. It was as though we were no longer two separate beings, but one—bound by something far greater than words or logic could explain. Two bodies, one heart, one soul—beating as one in perfect rhythm.

It’s a love story. The word is for our brightest stars. They have a connection between two of them that is timeless and looks like a shadow holding them together. One is a heart, and one is a soul, perfectly in sync and inseparable, even when the sky is pulling them apart.