Quotes About Depth

Your heart runs deep. It is…choosy. It is careful, but when it's given, it's complete.

I love you." His eyes met hers briefly, and it was there. The simplicity of it. The enormity of it.

dark and deep in her eyes. He'd opened his mouth without any idea what he would

turbulent eyes. "I didn't realize.

Freud's warning that what I omit without thinking (i.e. without conscious thought) may be the key to the deepest truth about me?

kalbos prigimtis yra daina, o dainos prigimtis - poreikis pripildyti gars? perd?m erdvi?, apytušt? žmogaus siel?.

Estás conmigo, pero no de la misma forma que estás en América, no cuando estabas cuando te marchaste, sino estando de una forma profunda e inmutable: como el amado, como ese que no muere. Es a tu alma a quien me dirijo, igual que será mi alma la que se quedará contigo cuando esta carta termine

Because it is not in the nature of love affairs for the lovers to see each other whole and steady.

I see your soul," he said. "That is why I find you beautiful.

She loved that man madly, but in a delirious way of some kind; there was never any mooching and mincing around, just talk and a very deep companionship that none of us would ever be able to fathom.

It reminds me of a remark Lucien [Carr] once made to me: He said You never seem to give yourself away completely, but of course dark-haired people are so mysterious.

We understood each other on other levels of madness.

Ah, holy hole!

All I wanted and all Neal wanted and all anybody wanted was some kind of penetration into the heart of things where, like in a womb, we could curl up and sleep the ecstatic sleep [...].

We communicate to each other depthlessly, without the words we use.

Curvas lindas em forma de pêra moldam a pele de seu rosto, que tem pestanas compridas e tristes, e uma resignação de Virgem Maria, e uma compleição cor de café e textura de pêssego e olhos de um mistério impressionante com uma falta de expressão de profundidade rasteira, meio desdém meio um lamento de dor pesaroso.

He was sounding the deeps of his nature, and of the parts of his nature that were deeper than he, going back into the womb of Time.

Like had been replaced by love. And love was the plummet dropped down into the deeps of him where like had never gone. And responsive out of his deeps had come the new thing—love. That which was given unto him did he return. This was a god indeed, a love–god, a warm and radiant god, in whose light White Fang's nature expanded as a flower expands under the sun.

I like real problems, the human condition - twisted, darker stuff.

The more secrets and twists in a character, the better.

I like giving people something they don't want to miss the next time. It's a show with little twists and turns and curves. It has me being silly and stupid and compassionate and completely deep.

I can tell you that as a writer and as a reader, I regard character as king. Or queen. No matter how riveting the action or interesting the plot twists, if I don't feel like I'm meeting someone who feels real, I'm not going to be compelled to read further.

It's harder to write a story with just two people in a room than with 50 characters.

Just like we don't live in a two-dimensional world, we don't live two-dimensional lives.