Quotes About Intimacy

I know I am capable of loving to the full capacity, of not being frightened of loving too much, of giving myself up and over

She whispered into the ear of the dreaming bear. If I said that my love for you was like the spaces between the notes of a wren's song, would you understand? Would you perceive my love to be, therefore, hardly present, almost nothing?

Sex is a bad thing because it rumples the clothes.

There was one true thing. Madeleine. The relief was beautiful. He fell asleep imagining her hands in his hands, holding one another in the darkness.

If you're looking pretty and your hair's all shiny, and there's a glint in your eye, and you say sorry like you mean it, and then kiss me on the mouth and let your hand kind of slip under my shirt so it's on my back, well, I'd sure forgive and forget.

I think I know you absolutely.

t was beautiful, being there with Elliott. It was like there was nothing except him and me. I remember his palms, his chest, his chin, but it was like we were more than just our bodies. As if our essence was there in the darkness.

I am a student of love.

I am grateful that I have rights in the proverbial public square--but, as a practical matter, my most cherished rights are those that I possess in my bedroom and hospital room and death chamber.

Sit down and talk to the man, for God's sake. You didn't know that love was a high-risk business? It surely is. But not taking the risk is terrible,

When we were entirely alone in this lush green world, Morgan pulled me gently to him, tipped up my chin and kissed me on the lips. He kissed me, he kissed me, he kissed me . . .

Maybe this was love—wanting someone with all the senses.

When we had finally become friends, when the four of us trusted each other enough to let the world surrounding us into our words, we whispered secrets. Pressed side by side by side, or sitting crossed legged in our newly tight circle. We opened our mouths and let the stories that had burned nearly to ash in our bellies finally live outside of us.

Afterward, he had held Iris so tightly. If she hadn't said, I can't even breathe right now, he would have still been holding on to her, wanting to pull her inside of him. Even bent in front of the side mirror, just inches from him, Iris still felt too far away.

My sister's clear soft voice opens up the world to me. I lean in so hungry for it.

He had never imagined a love as deep and endless as this.

They laughed at Eddie Murphy movies, and on the now too rare occasion when Iris let him make love to her, it felt like their bodies were holding on to the earth. When he kissed her, he wanted her to swallow him, wanted to be all the way inside of her—his love was deep like that.

Thank you," she murmured a few minutes after their breathing had normalized. "For what?" he laughed, tilting his chin to his chest so he could see her face as he pushed back the half ton of hair that had obscured it. "For answering my question.

I'll always remember our first night together, you so flushed and shy, me knowing what I know but scared too because you are the first one I loved. We poured our loneliness into each other and filled the emptiness and dark corners of this place with joy. I think of your long straight back, your strong legs, your hair on the pillow, your dark eyes close, and say your name over and over...it is the sound of bells.

Lastly, say to me, if you can, with feelings as tender as mine for you: my dear Beelzebub, I adore you...

Oh poder de las lágrimas, sin duda el más poderoso de todos los rasgos del amor! Mis desconfianzas, mis resoluciones, mis juramentos, todo queda olvidado. Queriendo secar el manantial de aquel precioso rocío, me había acercado demasiado a aquella boca donde la frescura se unía al dulce perfume de la rosa; y, aunque quiero alejarme, dos brazos, cuya blancura, suavidad y forma no sabría describir, actúan como lazos de los que no me puedo desprender.

I would like to write you so simply, so simply, so simply. Without having anything ever catch the eye, excepting yours alone, ... so that above all the language remains self-evidently secret, as if it were being invented at every step, and as if it were burning immediately

A secret to which truth has always initiated her lovers, and through which they have learned that it is in hiding that she offers to them most truly.

What does it matter how many lovers you have if none of them gives you the universe? — Jacques Lacan, The Seminar of Jacques Lacan: On Feminine Sexuality, the Limits of Love and Knowledge Vol. Book XX . (W. W. Norton & Company November 17, 1999) Originally published 1975.