Quotes About Intimacy

I realise I would like to solve the mystery of her just as much as she wants to solve the mystery of me and she nestles a little into me and I put my arm around her. Right there. On the park bench. Maybe that is what it takes to love someone. Finding a happy mystery you would like to unravel for ever.

She leaned towards me and kissed me on the lips. It was just a peck, but a peck on the lips was not just a peck. 'What was that for?' I asked. I could just about see her smile in the moonlight. It wasn't a flirtatious smile. It was a plain, matter-of-fact one. 'For you to have something else to occupy your mind.

her mother touch my hand and say, 'If there is such a thing as good marriage, it is because it resembles friendship rather than love.

my mind switches to what it would be like to be with her, to lose my way with her, to whisper longings into her ear, to devour and be devoured. To wake up in the same bed and talk and laugh and be in comfortable silence with her. To give her breakfast. Toast. Blackcurrant jam. Pink grapefruit juice. Maybe some watermelon. Sliced. On a plate. She would smile, and I see it in my mind, the smile, and I would dare to feel happy with another human being.

What was it about those silent exchanges in a crowded place? There was a magic to them, like a secret shared.

when you write with a pen it is like writing with a part of yourself like it is another finger.

A kiss,' she said, 'is like music. It stops time...

She had shrunk for him, but he still hadn't found the space he needed.

She tried to make herself look as presentable as it was possible to look in the two seconds before the arrival of a man she simultaneously slept with every night and also hadn't ever slept with. Schrödinger's husband, so to speak.

Kissing is what humans do when words have reached a place they can't escape from. It is a switch to another language. The kiss was an act of defiance, maybe of war. You can't touch us, is what the kiss said.

A happy entanglement of warm limbs and warmer love. A physical and psychological merging that conjured a kind of inner light, a bio-emotional phosphorescence that was overwhelming in its gorgeousness.

Kissing was very like eating. But instead of reducing the appetite, the food consumed actually increased it.

The girl put her hand in Nora's. It felt so small and warm and it made her feel sad, the way it relaxed into her, as natural as a pearl in a shell.

A policeman grips an arm to take you somewhere, but why does a wife stroke your hand? What was the purpose? It wasn't the touch Cosmopolitan had talked about, and it certainly didn't boost my mood.

El matrimonio no he llegado a entenderlo, pero el amor sí.

There was nothing else. Nothing but her. She was the stars and the heavens and the oceans. There was nothing but that single fragment of time, and this bud of love we had planted inside it.

She felt the strangeness of being connected to the world through someone else.

Her husband was a mystery she no longer had the energy to unravel. Anyway, it was known to be the first rule of marriage: solve the mystery, end the love.

Isobel held my hand. The glabrous underportion of her thumb stroked my skin. This unnerved me even more. I wondered why she was touching me. A policeman grips an arm to take you somewhere, but why does a wife stroke your hand? What was the purpose? It wasn't the touch Cosmopolitan had talked about, and it certainly didn't boost my mood. Did it have something to do with love? I stared at the small glistening diamond on her ring.

After a while, with a dog on your lap, you realize there is a necessity to stroke it.

Speaking to a human you cared about, I realised, was so fraught with hidden danger that it was a wonder people bothered speaking at all.

That is what we were like. In a way we argued because we knew it would have no fundamental impact. When you can be yourself around someone, you project your dissatisfied self outward.

She had known three types of silence in relationships. There was passive-aggressive silence, obviously, there was the we-no-longer-have-anything-to-say silence, and then there was the silence that Eduardo and she seemed to have cultivated. The silence of not needing to talk. Of just being together, of together-being. The way you could be happily silent with yourself.

I felt so terrified and so in love that I realised they – the terror, the love – were one and the same thing.