"It's saperavi, " he said, and I saw myself raising that glass to my lips.
For answer, I took her hand and raised it to my lips with a flourish.
Thus, while not a preferred solution, the Treasury-financed bailout was (read my lips) the ONLY solution.
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Barely a day of that campaign passed without the words "health" and "protest" passing my lips.
"Read my lips: No new taxes, " he said, prior to overseeing an administration that subsequently hiked taxes.
W. Bush broke his "read my lips" no-new-taxes promise and then lost his bid for a second term.
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It's so dry, all my lips and face are all chapped right now because the air has been so dry.
W. Bush agreed to violate the no tax increase pledge on which he was elected (Read my lips, no new taxes), in return for promised spending cuts.
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The back of my throat went on tightening, and other muscles lower down my neck joined in, tugging at my lips, trying to stretch them over my teeth.
It is starting to have the same haunting effect as George Bush senior's famous cry of "read my lips, no new taxes", ahead of the 1988 US presidential election.
Jacques Audiard, who directed the ingenious genre thriller "Read My Lips, " has opted for the risky strategy of starting off with Thom deeply embedded in his dubious pursuits, which are themselves barely penetrable.
Then once I find a color, barely an hour after I apply it, I'm haunted by the ghost of lipstick past, a Kool-Aid stain less appealing than my bare lips.
The pledge seams pretty iron-clad, but when asked about this, his top political advisor David Axelrod is a little squishy, describing the president's commitment not as a read-my-lips promise, but as something more aspirational.
Perhaps she understood that all my tactical cunning was a measure of my devotion, and, as her cool lips brushed my bruised cheek, I could not imagine myself ever having been happier.
She stood, kissed me on the top of my head, kissed my grandfather on the lips, and carried the dishes inside the house.
He raised it to his mouth, placed his warm lips in the middle of my palm and kissed it.
As it was, snippets of my prose were hurled back to me from the lips of three or four passersby for a few days, and then I ceased to be interesting.
She held my hand as she told me, her eyes sad half-moons, her lips still full and provocative.
My brother, however, stroked it for a long time and put it down without bringing it to his lips.
My prayer for you is that 10 years later, their memory is able to bring a smile to your lips before it brings a tear to your eye.
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