Quotes About Intimacy

Con los años, las parejas se van llenando de pequeñas desilusiones, de divergencias del proyecto amoroso que creyeron entrever en la primera pasión, de fallos propios y ajenos, rendiciones, aceptación acomodaticia de sus egoísmos y su cobardía. Con los años, el otro o la otra cada vez está más cerca en las rutinas pero más lejos en lo esencial.

convertirse, en ocasiones, en perfectos extraños. Y los peores son los extraños bien sincronizados, aquellos que entran y salen juntos, que van de vacaciones, que cenan con los amigos y jamás discuten, pero que luego, cuando están los dos solos, ni se miran a los ojos, sideralmente separados por el telón de hierro de todo lo que han dejado de compartir y decirse.

But being with someone you love isn't being with people. It's like being with the other half of yourself. [Julie, 'The Stone Boy']

It's all so sweet. Needing each other and finding each other.

Flora decided there was something special about two middle-aged people who shared a bond, not only of affection, but passion as well, so that when they met in the middle of the field, embracing without restraint or embarrassment, it was as though they were coming together after a separation of many months.

It was some time since I had gone to sleep in the same room with a girl. Of course, the room was large and reasonably well-lighted, and the girl had other things than me on her mind.

Having sex multiple times on the first sleepover does not count as more than one "date"…

Never sleep with a lady only once, especially in the case of an older lady. -'Rhett

Once a year, take her somewhere she's never been. Once a month, do something new that melts her in the sack. Once a week, stop everything and just listen to her. Once a day, catch her doing one thing you love. Once an hour, kiss her on the mouth. And every minute of every day, be grateful that you got her.

He brushes my cheek, wiping a tear. From the soul or whatever indefinable part of you makes you Annie. I like that part. The pad of his thumb circles my cheekbone, and I can't take my eyes off his.

While we are in that condition of darkness, we cannot have true fellowship with our brother either--for we are not real with him, and no one can have fellowship with an unreal person.

Li não sei onde que, numa separação, aquele que não ama e' o que diz as coisas carinhosas.

In me you exist,' says the house.

Writing isn't just a job that stops at six thirty... It's a mad, sexy, sad, scary, ruthless, joyful, and utterly, utterly personal thing. There's not the writer and then me; there's just me. All of my life connects to the writing. All of it.

The passionate love of a mature woman.

As I sat by my mother's side and held her hand and watched her, I remember thinking, I'm going to do this too, some day. This is what dying looks like. This is what Dad looked like when he died, and what I'm going to look like, too. Like Mom and Dad. It was comforting to know what I would look like. It made death a little less frightening, a little more intimate, a little more dear.

Handwriting, by contrast, resists the eye, reveals its meaning slowly, and is as intimate as skin.

In your diary, you quoted old Jiko saying something about not-knowing, how not-knowing is the most intimate way, or did I just dream that? Anyway, I've been thinking about this a lot, and I think maybe it's true, even though I don't really like uncertainty. I'd much rather 'know', but then again, not-knowing keeps all the possibilities open. It keeps all the worlds alive.

If skin marks the border where an I ends and a you begins, then that night they did all they could to cross it.

Ownership is the most intimate relationship that one can have to objects. Not that they come alive in him; it is he who lives in them.

The first words of a book are of utmost importance. The moment of encounter, when a reader turns to that first page and reads those opening words, it's like locking eyes or touching someone's hand for the first time, and we feel it, too. Books don't have eyes or hands, it's true, but when a book and a reader are meant for each other, both of them know it

Did he hear her? If he had opened his eyes just then, he would have seen his wife's lovely face hanging over him like a pale moon.

But then she remembered how easily she'd guessed the passcode on his phone, and it occurred to her that she and Benny knew each other pretty well, and that this was something not many mothers could say about their sons.

My fist, gripping the knife, looked like it meant business, and my arm felt strong and powerful, too. I liked that. Standing there, we were frozen in time, me and Daisuke-kun, and the future was mine. No matter what I chose to do, for this one moment I owned Daisuke and I owned his future. It was a strange feeling, creepy and a little too intimate, because if I killed him now we would be joined for life, forever, and so I released him. He crumpled at my feet.