Quotes About Belonging

Lazlo couldn't have belonged at the library more truly if he were a book himself.

It was the worst kind of silence, but a good kind of closeness. These weren't her folk, but...they were, and maybe that meant that anyone could be anyone's, which was a sort of nice thing to think, with the world falling apart.

Even if it was just walls and a roof with papers inside, it had bewitched him, and drawn him in, and given him everything he needed to become himself.

Karou was plagued by the notion that she wasn't whole. She didn't know what this meant, but it was a lifelong feeling, a sensation akin to having forgotten something. She'd tried describing it to Issa once, when she was a girl. "It's like you're standing in the kitchen, and you know you went in there for a reason, but you can't think of what that reason is, no matter what.

No le perteneces. Tampoco me perteneces a mi. Tú eres tu propio sueño.

I am a link in a chain

And there would be a door to shut out the world, and places to put things that would be theirs.

They hated the humans, but they also wanted to be them. They wanted to punish them, and they wanted to be embraced by them. To be accepted, honored, loved, like someone's child.

Como si él fuera ese lugar seguro que siempre estaba buscando y nunca encontraba.

And... a bed. A bed and a blanket to cover them, a blanket that was theirs together.

Ea nu voia sa fie eliberata in salbaticie. Voia sa fie pastrata si iubita. Sa apartina unui loc si unei familii,irevocabil.

Geçmi?inden bir ses kulaklar?na çal?nd?. "Sen ona ait de?ilsin." Annesinin sesiydi. Gür, melodik ve aksanl?. "Bana da de?ilsin. Sen kendine aitsin." Hiç a?lamam??t?. Festival. Onu tutmaya, muhaf?zlara kar?? koymaya çal??mam??t?. Ona veda bile edememi?ti. Vedalar kaderin ak???n? de?i?tirir, demi?ti Jael.

Quelle sono le nostre madri». La sua voce era aspra. «Noi siamo spade, così ci dicono, e le spade non hanno madre né padre, ma io ne ho avuta una un tempo, e non riesco nemmeno a ricordarne il nome.»

He learned to coax Brother Cyrus into that place of reverie, and he collected the stories like treasure. Lazlo owned nothing, not one single thing, but from the first, the stories felt like his own hoard of gold.

These weren't her folk, but . . . they were, and maybe that meant that anyone could be anyone's, which was a sort of nice thing to think, with the world falling apart.

To be one of a pair of bodies that knew that melting fusion. To reach and find. To be reached for and found. To belong to a mutual certainty. To wake up holding hands.

Just to find you and be in the world that you're in…

Still, it was Indiana, it was the dirt she had bloomed up out of, it was who she was, what she felt, how she thought, what she knew.

We were, after all, a ragtag accumulation of unwanted, an awkward reminder of a war the whole country was trying to forget.

Everywhere you hang your hat is home. Home is the bright cave under the hat.

My old man's a white old man And my old mother's black. If ever I cursed my white old man I take my curses back. If ever I cursed my black old mother And wished she were in hell, I'm sorry for that evil wish And now i wish her well My old man died in a fine big house My Ma died in a shack. I wonder were i'm going to die, Being neither white nor black?

You belong where you're loved.

I know you feel inhuman, and as if you are set apart, away from life and love, but... I promise you, the right man won't care.

We are bound together, Emma, bound together—I breathe when you breathe, I bleed when you bleed, I'm yours and you're mine, you've always been mine, and I have always, always belonged to you!