Quotes About Intimacy

Love me sweet With all thou art Feeling, thinking, seeing; Love me in the Lightest part, Love me in full Being.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach.

What I do, and what I dream include thee, as the wine must taste of its own grapes.

But in spite of my great desire for intimacy, I've always been a loner. Perhaps when the longing for connection is as strong as it is in me, when the desire is for something so deep and true, one knows better than to try. One sees that this is not the place for that.

I think, actually, that none of us understands anyone else very well, because we're all too shy to show what matters the most. If you ask me, it's a major design flaw. We ought to be able to say, Here, look what I am. I think it would be quite a relief.

A family is no place for privacy!

The one to tell. The one to be told by. For him, that was marriage.

You know, sometimes marriage is iron. Sometimes it's tissue paper. And I think the times it's tissue paper are when you need to keep things to yourself. Or you can end up making a mistake that you'll regret forever.

I tell you, I will never understand the mystery of love. A woman comes to a man because she wants only him; then she cannot bear the sound of air moving in and out of his nostrils. She cannot bear the sight of his shadow upon the pavement!

I like to do things in bed. I fold the laundry on the bed. Food tastes better to me when I'm under the covers. Bed is the only place to read, the best place to talk on the phone.

what John likes best are the small and undramatic moments that make for a kind of easy comfort, for a feeling of being grounded in a relationship.

real love is when the other person is your best friend and you shouldn't have to work hard around them, it should be, like, more natural, and you just want to be with them even if you're not doing anything.

HE REMEMBERS NOW WITH SOMETHING LIKE A FULL-BODY FLUSH, HE REMEMBERS WHAT IT MEANS TO SHARE SOMETHING WITH SOMEONE, THE PARTICULAR ALCHEMY THAT CAN LIGHT THINGS UP.

No. Real love isn't like that. My dad says real love is when the other person is your best friend and you shouldn't have to work hard around them, it should be, like, more natural, and you just want to be with them even if you're not doing anything.

I wanted him to be a toy man that I could bring upstairs with me, then store on a high shelf in the closet. But he was alive and complicated. He came with his own parts that had their own demands.

The only thing wrong in making love was being intimate with one you in fact did not love.

But at one point, one of the women sighed and leaned her head against the bus window, and said, "Ah, you know. My one and only yous." Her friend laughed. "It's my one and only you." The other woman said, "No it isn't.

Marriage is a funny thing. It only really makes sense to the ones who are in it together, and not even always then.

had been a long time since he'd touched a woman like that It was that he'd never touched a woman like Claire at all. Not one who was all cool culture and calm comportment and classy custom.

it had been longer ago than last Thanksgiving that she'd experienced the perspiration thing. A quick tally told her just how long, and she suddenly realized why she was suddenly so preoccupied with breathless, aching, ferocious, insistent, sweaty, wanton, ah… that feeling a woman should probably have for a man with whom she intended to spend the rest of her life.

That had been last Thanksgiving. And it had been longer ago than last Thanksgiving that she'd experienced the perspiration thing. A quick tally told her just how long, and she suddenly realized why she was suddenly so preoccupied with breathless, aching, ferocious, insistent, sweaty, wanton, ah…that feeling a woman should probably have for a man with whom she intended to spend the rest of her life.

A romantic man often feels more uplifted with two women than with one: his love seems to hit the ideal mark somewhere between two different faces.

Habit, of which passion must be wary, may all the same be the sweetest part of love.

a heart that is not shared with others, beloved by another, only withers and dies.