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Quote by Kris Kidd

Author

Kris Kidd
Kris Kidd

Kris Kidd, born on August 2, 1993, is a talented writer known for his unique style and deeply engaging works. more

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“That first day at school, maybe an agonising parting from your parents. The face of a loved one lost. A pullover knitted by your granny. A favourite toy. A doll, perhaps. A book of rhymes, tattered and torn. Someone who gave you a flower, a kiss on the forehead. To the end of your days you will carry that kiss with you. And may it protect you from all harm.”

MemoriesChildhoodNostalgiaKissInnocenceFirst
Book:My Favourite Nature Stories
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“Plan very well and use your plan to attain success. Do not be rigid about your plan. Be ready to confess when things do not go as expected. Be willing to adapt or revise your plan where needed.”

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Book:The Kind of Substance You Need For Your Success
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“Drew was focused on a hundred details at once: like the fact that her hand had dropped to his, and that her body was pressed up against his side; that her fingers were warm in the cool night air, and that her skin looked silver in the moonlight. Drew’s gaze flickered up. The bruise on Tess’s jaw was gone, her blue eyes dark and entrancing. “So are you going to do it?” she asked. Drew frowned. “Do what?” “Jesus, Drew,” she said with a nervous laugh. “You gonna kiss me or not?” His hands slid around her waist, pulling her against him. Tess’s eyes widened, lips parting. “Yeah,” Drew whispered. “I am...”

LoveRomanceKissIcarusTessDrew
Book:Icarus
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“Nothing felt like mine anymore, not after you. All those little things that defined me; small sentimental trinkets, car keys, pin codes, and passwords. They all felt like you. And more than anything else, my number - the one you boldly asked for that night, amidst a sea of people, under a sky of talking satellites and glowing stars. You said no matter how many times you erased me from your phone, you would still recognize that number when it flashed on your screen. The series of sixes and nines, like the dip of my waist to the curves of my hips, your hands pressed into the small of my back. Nines and sixes that were reminiscent of two contented cats, curled together like a pair of speech marks. You said if you could never hold me or kiss me again, you could live with that. But you couldn't bear the thought of us not speaking and asked, at the very least, could I allow you that one thing? I wonder what went through your mind the day you dialed my number to find it had been disconnected. If your imagination had raced with thoughts of what new city I run to and who was sharing my bed. Isn't it strange how much of our lives are interchangeable, how little is truly ours. Someone else's ring tone, someone else's broken heart. These are the things we inherit by choice or by chance. And it wasn't my choice to love you but it was mine to leave. I don't think the moon ever meant to be a satellite, kept in loving orbit, locked in hopeless inertia, destined to repeat the same pattern over and over - to meet in eclipse with the sun - only when the numbers allowed.”

PoetryMemoriesNumbersKissChoiceBroken HeartSentimentalHold
Book:Memories
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