Quotes About Intimacy

Who hears me, who understands me, becomes mine, — a possession for all time.

Then, when all is done, a person of related mind, a brother or sister by nature, comes to us so softly and easily, so nearly and intimately, as if it were the blood in our proper veins, that we feel as if some one was gone, instead of another having come; we are utterly relieved and refreshed; it is a sort of joyful solitude.

Our friendships hurry to short and poor conclusions, because we have made them a texture of wine and dreams, instead of the tough fiber of the human heart.

Ein Freund ist ein Mensch, vor dem man laut denken kann.

Our interactions with one another reflect a dance between love and fear.

A relationship starting out as one that awakens love can only remain a living vehicle for love to the extent that it is continually made new or reconsecrated.

You are my connection to the place in myself where I am love, and I can't get there without you.

Wealth is a relational barrier. It keeps us from having open relationships.

God is the Audience of One. There are no secrets from Him.

It is impossible for a believer, no matter what his experience, to keep right with God if he will not take the trouble to spend time with God. Spend plenty of time with him; let other things go, but don't neglect Him." —J. Oswald Sanders

They didn't finish each other's sentences, rather it was the pauses they shared.

O femeie îndr?gostit? vrea s? È™tie ce conÈ›ine inima unui b?rbat È™i dac? imaginea ei este gravat? pe pereÈ›ii acesteia.

El sacrificio era un intercambio de energía. Entregaban su fuerza vital a cambio de una comunicación íntima. Tanto los consumían las llamas de su fe que, de ser necesario, habrían entregado cuerpo y alma, y a menudo así lo hacían

Become a man or woman of prayer...Let your heart and mind be kept close to the principal calling of your life, which is to hunger and thirst after God and His righteousness...Let the thoughts and intents of your heart be shaped and guided by time spent in His presence.

Without the will, marriage is a mockery; without the emotion, it is a drudgery. You need both.

sexuality is sacred, and using it for amusement brings diminishing returns.

In the early days of marriage, joy precedes the act. Tragically, as the years go by joy can be severed from the act until finally, the act itself is no more. This ought not to be. Over time it is the companionship that brings joy, and service is the natural outworking of the joy of commitment. Failure to act kills it.

You see, marriage is a blend—not just of bodies and affections but, ultimately, of two people walking in stride through the hard moments that would divide any other friendship.

Why love the woman who is your wife? Her nose breathes in the air of a world that I know; therefore I love that nose. Her ears hear music I might sing half the night through; therefore I love her ears. Her eyes delight in seasons of the land; and so I love those eyes. Her tongue knows quince, peach, chokeberry, mint and lime; I love to hear it speaking. Because her flesh knows heat, cold, affliction, I know fire, snow, and pain. Shared and once again shared experience.

In the silence, our stage whisper might carry.

He saw himself in her eyes, suspended in two shining drops of bright water, himself dark and tiny, in fine detail, the lines about his mouth, everything there, as if her eyes were two miraculous bits of violet amber that might capture and hold him intact. Her face, turned to him now, was fragile milk crystal with a soft and constant light in it.

I mean, you don't just love people, you must LOVE them with exclamation points.

Why would you clone people when you can go to bed with them and make a baby? C'mon, it's stupid.

And just holding her hand would be good. Can you understand that? Do you know that holding someone's hand can be `the' thing? Such a thing that your hands move while not moving. You can remember a thing like that, rather than any other thing about a night, all your life. Just holding hands can mean more, I believe it. When everything is repeated, and over, and familiar, it's the first things rather than the last that count.