Quotes About Belonging

What I wanted was the tiniest thing in the world: to be like everyone else.

the time will come when we are people again, and not just Jews.

Conflictul interior al evreilor care vor s? se confunde cu ceilalÈ›i È™i, în acelaÈ™i timp, s? ias? în eviden??, care insist? c? sînt diferiÈ›i È™i care insist? c? nu sînt cu nimic diferiÈ›i...

It's a hard thing to be a jew... it's a harder thing to stay one.

We enter a spiritual puberty where we snap to the fact that the great transcendent horror is loneliness, excluded engagement in the self. Once we've hit this age, we will now give or take anything , wear any mask, to fit, be part-of, not be Alone, we young.

Love was what mattered. Love of one for one. The touching of hands, the touching of hearts. The warmth of belonging, the joy of sharing. There would always be tyrants. Man seemed incapable of existing without them. For without tyrants there would be no heroes. And man could not live without heroes. Renya

Live or die, a man and a woman need love. There is a need in the race. We need to share. To belong.

Stop acting like a Terran. Be a Hellan.

When Mom was a boy, she looked a lot different. I saw some old pictures once of my dad, and he had his arm around a boy who looked a little like Mom, but his hair was longer. Mom doesn't say much about life on Earth, so I guess it wasn't a very happy home for her. Like most everybody else, she and Dad left because they thought they could have a better life somewhere else.

my religion is home and all that attends it.

Is it better for you to have what you have now, this opportunity in another country, or is it better for you to be with the people who will always love you no matter what?

I simply knew, via song, sunlight, redwings and cottonwoods, that there was a world I was born to live in, that the men I was standing beside lived in another, and that as long as I remembered this their words would never hurt me again.

When we become part of God's own family, what sets us apart is not any difference in the sin environment around us, but in how we deal with it.

We ascend, he said, from physical needs (food, clothing, shelter) to safety needs (security, protection, assurance), then on to social needs (love, friendship, belonging), and next to the need for self-esteem (valuing self, self-worth, pride).

But whether or not you are here, you are here—because these words are for you, and they wouldn't exist if you weren't here in some way.

Why do we even bother? Why do we make ourselves so open to such easy damage? Is it all loneliness? Is it all fear? Or is it just to experience those narcotic moments of belonging with someone else?

I didn't let her go. She went. It's not my fault. She did it. She could undo it. This is feeling so fucking famliar. Why do we even bother? Why do we make ourselves so open to such easy damage? Is it all loneliness? Is it all fear? Of is it just to experience those narcotic moments of belonging with someone else?

It's the secret smile you get from knowing that, somewhere, there is someone who is yours. Not in the sense that you own her or control her. She is yours because you can say anything to her, whenever you need to. And she can do the same, whenever she needs to.

I am here, and he is here, and everything I need to know is that I will hold him and he will hold me until I am warm again, until I know I belong. (Your Temporary Santa)

And as we drift into sleep, I feel something I've never felt before. A closeness that isn't merely physical. A connection that defies the fact that we've only just met. A sensation that can only come from the most euphoric of feelings: belonging.

So many of us had to make our own families. So many of us had to pretend when we were home. So many of us had to leave. But every single one of us wishes we hadn't had to. Every single one of us wishes our family had acted like our family, that even when we found a new family, we hadn't had to leave the other one behind. Every single one of us would have loved to have been loved unconditionally by our parents.

Eventually she fell asleep, but I kept the phone against my ear, lulled by her breathing, and her breathing again in the background. And yes, it felt like home. Like everything belonged exactly where it was.

When I leave my own house, there's always a part of me that stays behind, waiting for me to get back. That's what makes it my home - that feeling that a part of me is always waiting for me there.

Belonging. Togetherness. These words are as complicated and confusing as the word love. It's probably all the same thing. Or it would be if we let it be. I can only guess from observation.