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The dictionary says that a kiss is "a salute made by touching with the
lips pressed closely together and suddenly parting them". From this it
is quite obvious that, although a dictionary may know something about
words, it knows nothing about kissing.
If we are to get the real meaning of the word kiss, instead of going
to the old fogies who compile dictionaries, we should go to the poets
who still have the hot blood of youth coursing in their veins. For,
instance, Coleridge called a kiss "nectar breathing". Shakespeare says
that a kiss is a "seal of love“. Martial, that old Roman poet who hid
ample opportunity to do research work on the subject, says that a
kiss was "the fragrance of balsam extracted from aromatic trees; the
rise odor yielded by the teeming saffron; the perfume of fruits
mellowing in their winter buds; the flowery meadows in the summer;
amber warmed by the hand of a girl; a bouquet of flowers that
attracts the bees".
Yes, a kiss is all of these ... and more.
Others have said that a kiss was: the balm of love; the first and last
of joys; love's language; the seal of bliss; love's tribute; the melting
sip; the nectar of Venus; the language of love.
Yes, a kiss is all of these … and more.
For a kiss can never be absolutely defined. Because each kiss is
different from the one before and the one after. Just as no two
people are alike, so are no two kisses alike. For it is people who
make kisses. Real, live people pulsating with life and love and