Quotes About Intimacy

When, after hours of lovemaking, we quickly dressed and left the apartment, I sometimes thought that Füsun was also taking care not to get "carried away" by her feelings for me. A proper understanding of my story depends, I think, on a full appreciation of the pleasure we took from these sweet shared moments. I am certain that the fire at the heart of my tale is the desire to relive those moments of love, and my attachment to those pleasures.

We embraced. This so pleased me that I felt no guilt. I let myself be borne away by sweet emotion. I hugged him tighter. I let him kiss me, and I kissed him back. And as we kissed, it was as if the entire world had entered a gentle twilight. I wished everybody could embrace each other the way we did. I faintly recalled that love was supposed to be like this.

In a marriage, trust is more important than love, as we all know.

Sometimes Füsun yawned so beautifully that I would think that she had forgotten the entire world and that she was drawing from the depths of her soul a more peaceful life, as one might draw cold water from a well on a hot summer day.

Te quería muerto de miedo por todo lo que sabía que pasaba por tu mente y más por lo que no sabía.

My dark beloved, my troubled hero, were you unable to sleep for thinking of me the whole night? Is that why the blush has left your face?

Art?k bütün hayat?m seninkine baÄŸl?.

eu a amava como se reconhecesse em você meu próprio corpo, como se você fosse minha alma perdida, como se eu enfim compreendesse, tomado pela dor e a alegria, que eu era uma outro pessoa;

What happens in that moment when we first sense our interest in another person? Why do we click with some people and not with others? Why do those moments make us feel more fully connected not just to that individual but to everything around us? Is there a way to foster or proactively create that kind of instant intimacy?

What a laugh, though. To think that one human being could ever really know another. You could get used to each other, get so habituated that you could speak their words right along with them, but you never know why other people said what they said or did what they did, because they never even know themselves. Nobody understands anybody.

Humans invent an imaginary lover and put that mask over the face of the body in their bed. That is the tragedy of language my friend. Those who know each other only through symbolic representations are forced to imagine each other. And because their imagination is imperfect, they are often wrong.

Darkness bound them closer than light.

I've had your tears with mine, and you've had mine with yours. I think that's more intimate even than a kiss.

Isn't it possible, he wondered, for one person to love another without trying to own each other? Or is that buried so deep in our genes that we can never get it out? Territoriality.

I think you can't possibly know the truth about somebody unless you love them.

I knew her so well that I loved her, or maybe I loved her so well that I knew her. I didn't want to fight her anymore. I wanted to quit. I wanted to go home. So I blew up her planet.

Ah, Vitaly, we all come from Eros. ~Sel Menach

When you really know somebody you can't hate them. Or maybe it's just that you can't really know them until you stop hating them." ? , Speaker for the Dead

Cuando conoces de verdad a alguien, no puedes odiarle. Tal vez sea que no puedes conocer a nadie de verdad hasta que dejas de odiar.

The prospect of sharing the rest of their lives held no dread for them. . . every word and movement between them carried their history and their future like background movement, shaping each moment even when they weren't aware of it.

Oh, Pipo, I'd be glad for you to try. But do believe me, my dear friend, touching her heart is like bathing in ice." "I imagine. I imagine it feels like bathing in ice to the person touching her. But how does it feel to her? Cold as she is, it must surely burn like fire.

What a laugh, though. To think that one human being could ever really know another. You could get used to each other, get so habituated that you could speak their words right along with them, but you never knew why other people said what they said or did what they did, because they never even knew themselves. Nobody understands anybody.

The stone loves you. Don't you see it? Hasn't it shown you its love all your life?

the conversation of the mind was truer than any language, and they knew each other better than they ever could have by use of mere sight and touch.