Quotes About Attachment

Except that, almost against his will, he did care about Robin.

it is hard to throw off long-established love: Hard, but this you must manage somehow…

When you give someone your whole heart and he doesn't want it, you cannot take it back. It's gone forever – Sylvia Plath

The women most readily drawn to Strike were, in Polworth's view, neurotic, chaotic and occasionally dangerous, and their fondness for the bent-nosed ex-boxer indicated a subconscious desire for something rocklike to which they could attach themselves like limpets.

Izzy had displayed the persistent adhesiveness of a teasel.

it is hard to throw off long-established love: hard, but this you must managed somehow

difficile est longum subito deponere amoren, v difficile est, uerum hoc qua lubet efficias… … it is hard to throw off long-established love: Hard, but this you must manage somehow…

Some people need to be needed . . .

He had called what he felt for Charlotte love and it remained the most profound feeling he had had for any woman. In the pain it had caused him and its lasting after-effects it had more resembled a virus that, even now, he was not He had called what he felt for Charlotte love and it remained the most profound feeling he had had for any woman. In the pain it had caused him and its lasting after-effects it had more resembled a virus that, even now, he was not.

he'd wanted to keep a channel of communication open between himself and Charlotte, because he wanted to know she couldn't forget him, any more than he could forget her. It was time to cut that last, thin thread.

The only thing left to her keeping were a bloody old rag and a creased photograph of the ocean which she held pressed to the hollow of her slender throat and had thrashed for and bit hands to protect like a madwoman risen from sleep to in her unformed state between wake and dream reproach the world tenfold.

If you don't receive love from the ones who are meant to love you, you will never stop looking for it.

We tend to go on loving the things the people who loved us loved. They are invested with soul, even if the people are long dead, even if they do not turn out to be who you thought they were.

This "filtering down" is not a mechanical process in which ideas of intellectuals just happen to come to the attention of the general public. It is instead a conscious effort on the part of intellectuals to alter Americans' perceptions of the world and of themselves, an effort, among other things, to weaken or destroy Americans' attachment to their country and to Western civilization.

Dobbiamo rinunciare a tutto, dunque?» Era serio, non sorrideva. «Non so neppure questo. Robert, in un certo senso ti appartengo. Non volevo che accadesse, non ne sentivo la necessità, e so che questo vale anche per te, ma è andata così. In realtà non sono seduta qui sull'erba, accanto a te. Mi hai dentro di te, come una prigioniera volontaria».

Once a person knows a kiss and a kind word, you can't blame him for never wanting to live without them again.

This is what the theologian Reinhold Niebuhr talked about as "the sin of sensuality." And it's what the Hindus talk about as maya—the dance of illusion, the intoxicating (addictive) dance of sensuous things that enchants and enthralls the mind, catching us up in the cycles of pleasure and pain.

What we love we are.

For it was inevitable that something a person was fond of, something he felt bound and conjoined to, would cause him distress as well: he would have to struggle with it, there would be much about it that displeased him, and at times he would even hate it because he had always felt so powerfully drawn to it.

The most common and important triangle that people find when they begin to examine their patterns is the one that was formed between themselves and their two parents or caregivers at birth.

So we must run back and forth between these two suns in our firmament—the presentiment of death and awareness of life—and avoid being transfixed by either of them. If we are lucky in this uncertain middle distance, we may form attachments and projects that enhance the sentiment of life. However, even as we try our luck, death comes to us, and brings our experiment to a end.

What was wrong between Diana and me was that she was too much a mother to me, and as I had had one mother, and lost her, I was not in a hurry to acquire another--not even a young and beautiful one with whom I could play Oedipus to both our hearts' content. If I could manage it, I had no intention of being anybody's own dear laddie, ever again.

Tsornin's nostrils showed red, but his ears were as alert as ever, and occasionally he would rub his nose gently against the nape of her neck, just in case she was momentarily not thinking about him.

I will miss the horses, said Beauty a little wistfully. Perhaps you will become fond of the goat, said Jeweltongue. Or even the chickens. Does one ever grow fond of chickens? said Beauty dubiously. Perhaps the goat.