Quotes About Intimacy

When you love a book it loves you back.

Lover? se asks, her voice reminding me of someone human.

She immediately moves into me and says she is sorry and then she's guiding me toward the bedroom and this is the way I always wanted the scene to play out and then it does and it has to because it doesnt really work for me unless it happens like this.

I mean I tell her I'm sensitive. I told her I was freaked out by the Challenger accident—what more does she want?

I kiss her on the mouth. She looks around nervously. I watch her reflection in the BMW. What's wrong? I ask. Not here, she says, but as if not here is the promise of somewhere better.

I want to moan and writhe with you and I want to go up to you and kiss your mouth and pull you to me and say 'I love you I love you I love you' while stripping. I want you so bad it stings.

I want to fuck you again, I tell her, but I don't want to wear a condom because I don't feel anything, and she says calmly, taking her mouth off my limp shrunken dick, glaring at me, If you don't use one you're not going to feel anything anyway.

We are not scholars researching an ancient Chinese emperor — a matter of objectivity and disinterestedness; we are sons and daughters who want to get to know our father — someone with whom we have an essential relationship.

What is this Love that so many speak of with such apparent familiarity? Do they truly comprehend how unattainable it is? Are there not as many definitions of Love as there are stars in the universe?

How many people can be told a secret, before it is no longer considered a secret? —Mentat conundrum (to which there is more than one correct answer)

Never be in the company of anyone with whom you would not want to die. —Fremen Saying

Anyone can kill you, but it takes someone you know to really HURT you.

The opposite of war is fucking.

in the beginning, love is mostly about lying to each other.

All it takes to make a new person is one night with some skank you hardly know. I mean, there I am, screwing her, and now there's somebody like you or me on the way. It's so fucking bizarre. You screw up one time and nine months later, bam! A new person.

What matters, finally, isn't finding the kind of person you think you should love. What matters is finding someone you feel more alive with.

To sit across the table and talk with someone you love is itself a complex engagement, with an exhaustingly subtle flow of information; to go to bed with someone--to carry your conversation into the realm of the body, a realm of insecurity and fear as well as pleasure--was always fraught with the sad evidence of how difficult it is to understand another person and make yourself understood.

You understood me; you helped me understand myself. If reading a book is a naked encounter between two people, I have known you nakedly for years.

The real purpose of friendship was to discover and exploit weakness in others.

That we need only to recognize GOD intimately present with us, to address ourselves to Him every moment, that we may beg His assistance for knowing His will in things doubtful, and for rightly performing those which we plainly see He requires of us, offering them to Him before we do them, and giving Him thanks when we have done.

Dr. Perry: That's a wonderful example of the glue of love. It is in the small moments, when we feel the other person fully present, fully engaged, connected, and accepting, that we make the most powerful, enduring bonds.

Boldness, at first a stranger to be treated with caution, soon becomes a friend, then a partner, and finally taken for granted, as is the daily relationship between married people.

What do you suppose we would do, I said conversationally, if we ever had sex? I mean, what would we call each other? Captain and Walker? Morrison and Detective? Or would we just find excuses to not call each other anything?

They were referred to as morning calls, that endless round of formal visits that took place daily amongst the members of Society in residence in London. But the truth was that no gentleman or lady with any pretensions to breeding would dream of appearing on the doorstep of any but his or her most intimate of friends before three o'clock.