Quotes About Attachment

It doesn't do to get attached to these secondary characters. It's not their story. They come and go, and when they go, they're gone for good.

Miss Lea, it does not do to get attached to these secondary characters It's not their story. They come, they go, and when they go they're gone for good. That's all there is to it.

The storyteller gave me a sideways look. Miss Lea, it doesn't do to get attached to these secondary characters. It's not their story. They come and go, and when they're gone, they're gone for good. That is all there is to it.

No conviene encariñarse con los personajes secundarios. No es su historia. Vienen, se van, y una vez que se han ido ya no vuelven. Eso es todo.

Do you know the feeling when you start reading a new book before the membrane of the last one has had time to close behind you?

J'imagine que l'une des raisons pour lesquelles les gens s'accrochent de manière si tenace à leurs haines, c'est qu'ils sentent bien que, une fois la haine disparue, ils se retrouveront confrontés à la douleur1. »

The family - that dear octopus from whose tentacles we never quite escape, nor, in our inmost hearts, ever quite wish to.

People's clothes ought to be buried with them.

The grasp of objects that bind us to some betokening.

People getting older become more fond of objects. I think this is true. Particular things. A leather-bound book, a piece of furniture, a photograph, a painting, the frame that holds the painting. These things make the past seem permanent. A baseball signed by a famous player, long dead. A simple coffee mug. Things we trust. They tell an important story. A person's life, all those who entered and left, there's a depth, a richness.

There's a neat correlation between the complexity of the hardware and the lack of genuine attachments. Devices make everyone pliant. There's a general sponginess, a lack of conviction.

Murray says it is possible to be homesick for a place even when you are there.

However, the majority of people mistakenly judge external things to be 'good' and therefore experience feelings of desire for things beyond their control, leading to frustration and suffering.

A process of accretion. Barnacles growing on a wreck or a rock. I'd rather have a wreck than a ship that sails. Things attach themselves to wrecks. Strange fish find your wreck or rock to be a good feeding ground; after a while you've got a situation with possibilities.

A week later she is still with me. She is departing by degrees. If I tore her hair out, no one but me would love her. But she don't want me to tear her hair out. I wear different shirts for her: red, orange, silver. We hold hand through the night.

We don't know how much we are capable of loving until the people we love are being taken away, until a beautiful story is ending.

We don't know how much we are capable of loving until the people we love are being taken away, until a beautiful story is ending.

half the feeling of home is usually a person.

The very idea of purging source data appalls me. I suppose if I were human, I'd be a pack rat. I'd probably end up as a little old lady who gets crushed to death beneath the weight of her lifetime collection of National Geographics.

Because you are not mad, or wild, or grieving! You are not roaring out to choke her with your own bare hands! Which means your soul is not too mixed up with hers. And that is good. Here is my experience. Stay away from the ones you love too much. Those are the ones who will kill you. What you want to live and be happy in the world is a woman who has her own life and lets you have yours.

If I had grown up in that house I couldn't have loved it more, couldn't have been more familiar with the creak of the swing, or the pattern of the clematis vines on the trellis, or the velvety swell of land as it faded to gray on the horizon . . . . The very colors of the place had seeped into my blood.

Here is my experience. Stay away from the ones you love too much. Those are the ones who will kill you. What you want to live and be happy in the world is a woman who has her own life and lets you have yours.

And though there was something pathetic about it—taking comfort in her left-behind things like a puppy snuggled in an old coat...

a love more binding than physical affection, some tar-pit of the soul where I might flop around and malinger for years.