Quotes About Intimacy

Sam's heart swelled with love for Sadie. Why was it so hard for him to say he loved her even when she said it to him? He knew he loved her. People who felt far less for each other said "love" all the time, and it didn't mean a thing. And maybe that was the point. He more than loved Sadie Green. There needed to be another word for it.

People knowing your private business gave them power over you" -Anya

I knew near everything about him, and he knew near everything about me, and all that made our quite a kind of song.

It's more than romantic. It's better than romance It's friendship.

To allow yourself to play with another person is no small risk. It means allowing yourself to be open, to be exposed, to be hurt.

She almost seemed to be an extension of him, and he, of her.

To allow yourself to play with another person is no small risk. It means allowing yourself to be open, to be exposed, to be hurt. It is the human equivalent of the dog rolling on its back—I know you won't hurt me, even though you can. It is the dog putting its mouth around your hand and never biting down. To play

I've decided we're going to be great friends, by the way. Don't bother trying to resist me. I'll stalk you until you submit.

Yes, she loved him, but she also liked him. She liked herself when she was with him.

For most of his life, Sam had found it difficult to say I love you. It was superior, he believed, to show love to those one loved. But now, it seemed like one of the easiest things in the world Sam could do. Why wouldn't you tell someone you loved them? Once you loved someone, you repeated it until they were tired of hearing it. You said it until it ceased to have meaning. Why not? Of course, you goddamn did. —

Zweisamkeit' is the feeling of being alone even when you're with other people." Simon turned to look in his husband's eyes. "Before I met you, I felt this constantly. I felt it with my family, my friends, and every boyfriend I ever had. I felt it so often that I thought this was the nature of living. To be alive was to accept that you were fundamentally alone.

She leaned in to kiss him, and he kissed her, and then she put her hand between his legs, wrapping her fingers around the cylindrical chamber of blood sponges that was his (and every) penis. He felt the corpora cavernosa, commanded by nerve messages from his subconscious brain, fill up with blood, and the tunica albuginea membrane, the penis's straitjacket, trap the blood inside.

They did have a secret. The secret was the delight one feels when discovering a person who speaks one's native tongue.

And yet . . . He had spent hours with the man over the last half-dozen years. They had only ever discussed books but what, in this life, is more personal than books?

Why wouldn't you tell someone you loved them? Once you loved someone, you repeated it until they were tired of hearing it.

She's my best friend," Sam said. "Sure," Marx said, "I get that. But is it, you know—I hope this isn't weird that I'm asking this—is it romantic? Or has it ever been romantic?" "No," Sam said. "We've never…It's more than romantic. It's better than romance. It's friendship.

I love having sex with you," she says. "If you're a vegetable when this is done, can I still have sex with you?

and then she put her hand between his legs, wrapping her fingers around the cylindrical chamber of blood sponges that was his (and every) penis.

And I and him, and him and me. (I will always remember that he tasted like cigarettes and something passing sweet, which I could not quite identify.) Andiandhimandhimandme. (And so on.)

He had spent hours with the man over the last half-dozen years. They had only ever discussed books but what, in this life, is more personal than books?

My life is in these books, he wants to tell her. Read these and know my heart. We

No one else seems as real as he does.

Someday, you may think of marrying. Pick someone who thinks you're the only person in the room. —

And in the end, she had decided she preferred being his creative partner to being his lover. There were so many people who could be your lover, but, if she was honest with herself, there were relatively few people who could move you creatively.