Quotes About Intimacy

I want you to know that when someone offers you their heart, you shouldn't push it away. I mean, how often are you going to get that? I haven't had to deal with it, but if it ever does happen I know I wouldn't.

Ray likes how smooth I am, how raw my skin is. It burns by the time he's done touching it.

I lied to Julia, I didn't know what else to do because you - you make me feel..." I had to stop. Not because I didn't have words. I did. But I was afraid to say them. He looked at me, and I knew then I could love him. That if I let myself I would. "You make me feel too," he said, and held out one hand.

I think what Vincent wanted was for me to find him in his words, even between the lines. Then he wanted me to write him a story he could live in just as I had once told him I might.

He looked at the books, and she wanted to say, 'Stop that,' as though he were reading her diary.

She always played his song because whenever she saw him, it was like moving into a warm pocket of air.

Why do you need everyone married?" Christopher has said to him angrily, when Henry has asked about his son's life. "Why can't you just leave people alone?" He doesn't want people alone.

thought to myself: William is the only person I ever felt safe with. He is the only home I ever had.

His blue eyes were watching her now; she saw in them the vulnerability, the invitation, the fear, as she sat down quietly, placed her open hand on his chest, felt the thump, thump of his heart, which would someday stop, as all hearts do. But there was no someday now.

Her son had married his mother, as all men—in some form or other—eventually do.

no matter what people looked like they still had a desire to undress and cling to each other—the pull of biology

She could hear in the darkness of her car how his breathing was quicker now; and her own was, too. She wanted to say their hears were too old for this now; you can't keep doing this to a heart, can't keep expecting your heart to pull through.

The next morning he and Denise worked in an intimate silence. If she was up at the cash register and he was behind his counter, he could still feel the invisible presence of her against him, as though she had become Slippers, or he had—their inner selves brushing up against the other.

Mensen zijn eenzaam, dat wil ik hier maar mee zeggen. Veel mensen kunnen niet tegen degenen die ze goed kennen zeggen wat ze misschien wel zouden willen zeggen.

She did not say, and only fleetingly did she think: And you have always taken up so much space in my heart that it has sometimes felt to be a burden.)

What is it that William knew about me and that I knew about him that caused us to get married?

Everything felt a little bit far away, is what I mean, like I was removed from it. And that night in the hotel I did not give myself as freely to my husband as I usually did, the feeling I had was still with me. The truth is this: That feeling never went away. Not entirely. I had it my whole marriage with him—it ebbed and flowed—but it was a terrible thing.

When a wife is so happy to see her husband, she would like to think he was happy to see her too.

If she was up at the cash register and he was behind his counter, he could still feel the invisible presence of her against him <...> —their inner selves brushing up against the other.

William is the only person I ever felt safe with. He is the only home I ever had.

Olive's private view is that life depends on what she thinks of as "big bursts" and "little bursts." Big bursts are things like marriage or children, intimacies that keep you afloat, but these big bursts hold dangerous, unseen currents. Which is why you need the little bursts as well: a friendly clerk at Bradlee's, let's say, or the waitress at Dunkin' Donuts who knows how you like your coffee. Tricky business, really.

Intimacy became a ghastly thing.

Women are naturally secretive, and they like to do their own secreting.

There was something about him that drove the shyness out of you, a kind of understanding that went deeper than words and set up an instantaneous closeness. It was odd; we couldn't have been more different. Arthur Gordon