Quotes About Attachment

in the first love, the soul is taken far before the body; afterwards the body is taken far before the soul; sometimes the soul is not taken at all...

It is chiefly at the moment when there is the greatest need for attaching them to the painful realities of life, that the threads of thought snap within the brain.

A vida não passa de uma longa perda de tudo o que amamos.

I have never known how to say goodbye. It is a failing that has been with me all of my life. It's especially problematic, given how often partings have come up.

The idea of it, of staying here and finding a good life and a place to belong, seduced her as nothing ever had.

When you grow up as I have, a lost girl without any real past, you latch on to the people who seem to love you. At least that's what I did. It started early, my holding on too tightly and needing too much. I always craved love. The unconditional, even unearned kind. I needed someone to say it to me. Not to sound poor me, but my mother never said it.

That was her mistake. She'd pinned her happiness to a teenage girl's chest. Idiot. The realization made her almost smile. She certainly knew better than that.

A girl was like a kite; without her mother's strong, steady hold on the string, she might just float away, be lost somewhere among the clouds.

I think maybe 'in love' has the shelf life of whipping cream. No matter how you handle it, it goes sour. But if you're lucky, you get past 'in love' and end up just loving someone.

Home is part of us. It's in the scars we have on our knees and elbows, in the memories that surface when we sleep. I don't think you can ever really leave.

It didn't matter how you lost a parent or how great or shitty that parent was, a kid grieved forever.

Mislim da ljubav jednostavno može...nestati. Ne,ne može-rekla je njezina majka. Pa kako onda- ?vrsto je držiš...Sve dok ti ne prokrvare ruke,a ni tada je ne puštaš.

When I care about someone, I hang on with a desperation that borders on mental illness.

Claire knew she loved her daughter too much; it was dangerous to need another human being so desperately, but Claire had never known any other way to love.

I don't know how to believe in her, but I don't know how to let go, either. She's my mother. After all of it, all the times she's held on to me and all the times she's let me go, she's still woven through me, a part of the fabric of my soul, and it means something, that she's here.

It was the truest fact of her world. She loved everything about this man, his smile, the way he mumbled in his sleep and laughed after a sneeze and sang opera in the shower. She

You can't unlove someone even if you want to, even if he breaks your heart.

Like geese," she whispered into the tiny, shell-pink ear, "their babies imprint on the mama in the first sighting and never forget.

How will I stop loving him, Mama? Will I Ã¢â'¬Â¦ forget?" Mama sighed. "Ah. That. Love doesn't fade or die, baby girl. People tell you it does, but it doesn't. If you love him now, you'll love him in ten years and in forty. Differently, maybe, a faded version, but he's part of you now. And you are part of him.

Sometimes it feels like a strength and sometimes like a weakness, but I don't know how to stop loving him.

For me, admitting that I won't decorate a tree for Christmas is giving up, and I've never been good at letting go.

If love is a disease, I suppose I'm infected

Get what?" she asked, but she didn't want to hear. "That every time we kiss, it's good-bye.

locking up the house—their home—and driving away. The only slightly good news was that they weren't selling it. Someday, Dad promised, they'd return. The big things—furniture, art