Quotes About Embrace

Don't ask me anything about the future," he said miserably. "I don't know anything. Be with me now, will you, no matter what it is?" And she took him in her arms.

Sex is really only touch, the closest of all touch. And it's touch we're afraid of. We're only half-conscious, and half alive.

He hid his face against her, who was warm and like sunlight. She seemed to have sunlight inside her. Her heart beating seemed like sunlight upon him

For Connie had adopted the standard of the young: what there was in the moment was everything.

And as she smoothed her hand over the silk collar, she thought of her eldest son. But this son was living enough inside the clothes. She passed her hand down his back to feel him. He was alive and hers.

Well, so many words, because I can't touch you. If I could sleep with my arms round you, the ink could stay in the bottle.

is like being surrounded by the sounds from childhood. Hearing your parents talk at dinner. The clinking of silverware on plates and the wood table. It feels like when your mom comes close to say good night as you drift off to sleep. They are the sounds of being surrounded by intimacy. The first years of life. Of being embraced.

You are here, and we are here with you.

a life we didn't choose, chose us

I'll give you what I learned from all this," he said. "Accept what people offer. Drink their milkshakes. Take their love.

It could probably qualify as an epidemic among American men: this stubborn reluctance to embrace our wholeness, this stoic denial that we had come from our mothers as well as our fathers. It was sad, really-tragic. So wasteful of human lives, as our wars and drive-by shootings kept proving to us; all one had to do was turn on CNN or CBS News. And yet, it was comic, too—the lengths most men went to to prove that they were tough guys.

I am satisfied ... I see, dance, laugh, sing.

I act as the tongue of you, ... tied in your mouth . . . . in mine it begins to be loosened.

poor boy! I never knew you, Yet I think I could not refuse this moment to die for you, if that would save you

I do not ask who you are, that is not important to me,   You can do nothing and be nothing but what I will infold you.

Camerado, this is no book, Who touches this touches a man, (Is it night? are we here together alone?) It is I you hold and who holds you, I spring from the pages into your arms—decease calls me forth.

And henceforth I will go celebrate any thing I see or am, And sing and laugh and deny nothing.

And that my Soul embraces you this hour, and we affect each other without ever seeing each other, and never perhaps to see each other, is every bit as wonderful.

This is no book; Who touches this, touches a man; (Is it night? Are we here alone?) It is I you hold, and who holds you; I spring from the pages into your arms...

Soothe! soothe! soothe! Close on its wave soothes the wave behind, And again another behind embracing and lapping, every one close, But my love soothes not me, not me. -from Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking

To touch my person to some one else's is about as much as I can stand

All this I swallow and it tastes good . . . . I like it well, and it becomes mine, I am the man . . . . I suffered . . . . I was there.

I have embraced you and henceforth possess you to myself, and when you rise in the morning you will find what I tell you is so.

This is the meal pleasantly set . . . . this is the meat and drink for natural hunger, It is for the wicked just the same as the righteous . . . . I make appointments with all, I will not have a single person slighted or left away, I will not have a single person slighted or left away, The keptwoman and sponger and thief are hereby invited . . . . the heavy-lipped slave is invited . . . . the venerealee is invited, There shall be no difference between them and the rest.