Quotes About Attachment

I want a relationship I can seek my teeth into.

I can't leave you behind. You're with me all the time.

This leads to a pattern in which the child cries out and either gets nothing or gets an insufficient or intermittent response. Then the child becomes exhausted and collapses, either from depleted energy or giving up to conserve a sliver of energy (Lowen, 1971). It is often at this point--collapse--that the caregiver eventually takes care of the child. This "teaches" the child that he or she has no effect on the world and that nurturance comes when they are collapsed.

You don't need to be seeing someone to be in love with her. You can have lost touch with her, she can have hurt you, even inexplicably. If you ever felt that you really knew her and that it was what you knew that you loved, and if you remember what it was you once knew, why is it so crazy to retain that love still?

I didn't have a hard time making it, I had a hard time letting it go.

I think only someone I loved as much as you could make me behave like such an idiot.

Siblings grow on you in insidious ways.

Men are different," Sophie retorted. "You can see that easily enough, Charlotte. Women may love one man, but men simply love the person they see before them. That old chestnut, absence makes the heart grow fonder, doesn't work for men. They are like children with toys: They move on to the next shiny object if you take the old one out of their hands.

A psychologist would probably say that, as a kid, I was trying to create a sense of order in a chaotic life, with my dad coming and going and all the reprimands and rows. I didn't have control over that, or over my mother's moods, but I had control over the stuff in my room. Objects couldn't do me any harm. I found them comforting. I talked to them, I behaved as if they had feelings. If something got broken, I'd feel really upset, as if I'd killed something.

Dicen que de los muertos se acaba añorando más las manías que te irritaban que la coherencia de sus actos

Para Antonio, porque donde está él está mi casa.

A self-respecting man is a man without a country. A fatherland is birdlime...

Death makes no sense except to people who have passionately loved life. How can one die without having something to part from? Detachment is a negation of both life and death. Whoever has overcome his fear of death has also triumphed over life. For life is nothing but another word for this fear.

Despre Dna de Staël: "Avea in suflet prea multe legaturi pasionate ca sa nu fi iubit enorm,iar in cap prea multa imaginatie ca sa nu fi crezut adesea ca iubeste."(Dna de Rémusat)

A iubi înseamn? a suferi ÅŸi cum mulÅ£i fug de suferin??, puÅ£ini ÅŸtiu s? iubeasc?.

When, getting too used to ourselves, we begin to loathe ourselves, we soon realize that we are worse off, that self-hatred actually strengthens self-attachment.

For all we tell ourselves about not outliving a stillborn babe, instead of clearing out at the first opportunity, we cling, with lunatic energy, to one day more.

An inexorable law strikes and directs societies and civilizations. When, for lack of vitality, the past collapses, clinging to it serves no purpose - and yet it is this attachment to antiquated forms of life, to lost or bad causes, that makes so touching the anathemas of a de Maistre or a Bonald. Everything seems admirable and everything is false in the Utopian vision; everything is execrable and everything seems true in the observations of the reactionaries.

The things that we have expressed we believe a little less in. Why? Because they detach themselves from you. In that sense, really the fact of writing is a kind of profanation. Because the things in which you believe fully, from the moment you have said them, they mean less to you.

If a man loves nothing, he will be invulnerable" (Chuang Tse).

Someone we regard highly comes closer to us when he performs an action unworthy of him--thereby he releases us from the cavalry of veneration. And starting from that moment we feel a true attachment to him.

We cherish our anathemas, greedy for what pulverizes us; not for anything would we renounce our own nightmare to which we have assigned as many capital letters as we have known illusions. These illusions have been discredited, like the capital letters, but the nightmare remains, decapitated and naked, and we continue to love it precisely because it is ours and because we do not see what to replace it by.

An inexorable law strikes and directs societies and civilisations. When, for lack of vitality, the past collapses, clinging to it serves no purpose — and yet it is this attachment to antiquated forms of life, to lost or bad causes, that makes so touching the anathemas of a de Maistre or a Bonald. Everything seems admirable and everything is false in the utopian vision; everything is execrable and everything seems true in the observations of the reactionaries.

You would have been happy with a wife who adored you, not someone who clung on to you like a life raft on a stormy sea and then wished she could cast you aside and move on when she reached land.