Quotes About Intimacy

I spoke the truth to my husband, but not all the truth.

You come from your mauma, you sleep in the bed with her till you're near twenty years grown, and you still don't know what haunches in the dark corners of her.

lay beside him, drawing warmth from his body. We stared up at the branches, at clusters of yellow fruit, at the black sky smeared with stars. How awake we were, how alive. I pressed my ear to his chest and listened to the slow drumming. I thought us inseparable. A single timbre.

everything that had ever passed between us was present then, that it was hidden somewhere among the suffering.

I couldn't be angered by her deceit—it didn't come from treachery. We women harbor our intimacies in locked places in our bodies. They are ours to relinquish when we choose.

I will think only of him. I will give him more than my presence; I will give him the full attention of my heart.

He didn't speak, nor did I, but I told myself later that everything that had ever passed between us was present then, that it was hidden somewhere among the suffering.

The need to share what we experience, to be listened to, to have what is going on inside us matter to the person we are married to, to engage in a two-way dialogue, is the cry of one soul yearning to meet another."5

To David, love meant declaration. Wasn't that the whole point? To Sarah, love meant a shared secret. Wasn't that the whole point?

He has already struck the match, his hands cupped to protect the small flame against the currents of the air but also to smuggle more of his body into the exchange, under cover of courtesy. Frazer always cups his hands around the flame and leans near, even when indoors in a place with no drafts. Some men embrace all the retrograde aspects of gallantry because they've intuited that to be gallant is to take sexual hold of a woman, however obliquely. She thinks Frazer is one of these men.

Fear in intimate relationships operates on several levels. On one level there are the survival fears—fear of making it financially on your own, fear of being poor, fear of being the sole provider and nurturer for your children, and fear of being alone—which keep women from leaving abusive relationships. But fear is present in the misogynistic relationship long before the woman begins to think of leaving.

Take me," she said. "I'm yours." Beela

The title of Kent Haruf's Our Souls at Night promised just that. I read it in a few hours, tranquilized by its tenderness for two widowed characters who find late-life intimacy in the simplest of ways.

I thought you might want to try me out." "What for? We hardly need premarital sex to tell us that at first the physical side of marriage is going to be difficult! What matters is not that we confirm this obvious fact before marriage but that after the wedding we're prepared to try hard to overcome the problem.

I had this vision of the two of us holding hands or getting into some light petting behind shower curtains or up in the fencing aisle or some shit.

We got up and smiled at each other. His eyes were lovely, and I was reminded of a line in book I read once, that God exists in the spaces between people.

Want to sleep over? Absolutely.

He tucked her hair behind her ears and kissed her. I love you Gracie Landon, he said quietly.

I don't do this, he continued. I don't get involved. But I've never wanted anyone as much as I want you. It started out as chemistry, pure sexual attraction. I don't even know what to call it. But it's different now. It's bigger and I can't control it and I can't not be with you.

He grabbed her and pulled her against him. I've missed you, he said right before he kissed her.

Phoebe, we talked about this," he reminded her. "You deserve better than a quickie out in the open." "We're in a tent," she said before she could stop herself. "And it doesn't have to be quick.

What they teach in school isn't enough," Reggie said. "Birth control is important but what about the rest of it?" "The rest?" Dellina asked before she could stop herself. "You mean—" "Pleasure." Lark smiled at her husband. "Remember when I taught the girls to masturbate?" He nodded. "It was a beautiful time." Sam flinched.

His mouth seemed designed for kissing. Maybe it was all that non-conversation. Maybe talking too much undermined a man's ability to kiss.

Friend. The word was like a bucket of ice water. He drew back slightly, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead on hers.