Quotes About Intimacy

This feeling was perhaps what had once driven his people to roam the world, seeking the home that would cure them of it. It may be the case that to find that home is to end one's quest, I said, but it is with the feeling of displacement itself that the true intimacy develops and that constitutes, as it were, the story.

The interesting ones are like islands, he said: you don't bump into them on the street or at a party, you have to know where they are and go to them by arrangement.

He put out his hand and I felt his fingers circling my arm. The hand was solid, heavy, like a moulded marble hand from antiquity. I looked at it and at the dark woollen material of his coat sleeve and the mounded expanse of his shoulder. A flooding feeling of relief passed violently through me, as if I was the passenger in a car that had finally swerved away from a sharp drop.

Supongo, añadí, que esa es una definición del amor, creer en algo que solo dos personas pueden ver.

I suppose, I said, it is one definition of love, the belief in something that only the two of you can see, and in this case it proved to be an impermanent basis for living.

Imagino que essa seja uma das definições do amor, falei, a crença em algo que só vocês dois conseguem ver

Joskus minun vain täytyy saada puhua jotta tuntisin itseni todelliseksi, ja toivoisin että sinäkin puhuisit minulle." Hän makasi vaiti pimeässä ja tuijotti kattoon. Sitten hän sanoi: "Minusta tuntuu kuin sydämeni puhuisi sinulle koko ajan.

suppose it's a bit like marriage, he said. You build a whole structure on a period of intensity that's never repeated. It's the basis of your faith and sometimes you doubt it, but you never renounce it because too much of your life stands on that ground.

Like love, I said, being understood creates the fear that you will never be understood again.

More – life,' he said, opening his hands in a gesture of receipt. 'And more affection,' he added, after a pause. 'I wanted more affection.

I feel like my heart is talking to you all the time.

What was striking was the sheer negative capability of their former intimacy:

What kind of love was this, that needed the love object domesticated and locked up? And if there was love being handed out, why wasn't she getting any?

If he could only love what he did not know, and be loved in return on that same basis, then knowledge became an inexorable disenchantment, for which the only cure was to fall in love with someone new.

I suppose, I said, it is one definition of love, the belief in something that only the two of you can see.

I'm here because you're here. When a man loves a woman, he wants to spend time with her. Even if that means he has to put on a suit and tie. He wants to hold her tight and smell her hair.

He placed his hands on the sides of her face and looked into her eyes."You're not some woman I picked up in a bar, Chelsea. You're not a one-night stand. Don't sneak out on me.

His lids lowered and he brushed her cheek with the tips of his fingers. "What if I fall in love with you?" She turned her face into his palm. "You won't.

You don't look at Ann the way you looked at her." "How's that?" "Like you could look at her for the rest of your life.

I want to be with you." He straightened and brought her against his chest. "I like being with you," he continued. "When I'm not with you, I'm thinking about you. No one else. Just you.

We'll have sex all night. Half the morning too. And just when you think you can't take anymore, we'll go at it again.

You asked me once what I see when I look into my future." He slid his palm down her shoulder and took her hand. "I see you

I want to make love to you, and if you don't stop me now, that's exactly what's going to happen.

You're not some woman I picked up in a bar, Chelsea. You're not a one-night stand. Don't sneak out on me.