Quotes About Connection

One thing I've learned, my friend, is every person you meet has different needs, and when we wish to be a valuable part of the person's life, we must learn them." His mouth quirked in a wry grin. "I suppose that's the trick, isn't it? Caring for a person in the way they require, even when it's not how we'd wish to. from Miss Whitaker Opens Her Heart

I remember running down a road on my way to a nursery of flowers. I remember her smile and her laugh when I was my best self and she looked at me like I could do no wrong and was whole. I remember how she looked at me the same way even when I wasn't. I remember her hand in mine and how that felt, as if something and someone belonged to me.

I'd like to live in a world designed by Theodore Finch.

Even when we weren't wandering, even from the floor of your closet, you showed the world to me.

I guess you can be yourself, whatever that means-the best and worst of you. And they love you anyway. You can fight, but even when you're mad at them, you know they're not going to stop being your friend.

It's about the important things, like the way their face lights up when they laugh, or the way they move as they're walking towards you, or the way their freckles create a map of the stars.

If a song's meant to stay around, you carry it with you in your bones.

Maybe even the smallest places mean something.

I want you to know I'm rooting for you.' Sometimes we need to hear that, even from a stranger.

Everyone in my life is a stranger, and that includes me.

For some reason, I don't like the way this sounds, as if a universe could exist in which I wouldn't know Finch.

You make me love you...

And then she kisses me. It's the kind of kiss that makes me lose track of everything, and so it may take hours or minutes by the time we break apart.

You are not alone." Before I can tell him, Actually I am, which is part of the problem; we are all alone, trapped in these bodies and our own minds, and whatever company we have in this life is only fleeting and superficial, he tightens his grip until I worry my arm will snap off. "And we are not done discussing this.

In case you haven't noticed, we're already involved, Finch. And in case you haven't noticed, I'm broken too.

I skim through our notebook, thick with words, and then through our Facebook messages—so many now—and then I write a new one, quoting Virginia Woolf: "Let us wander whirling to the gilt chairs.… Are we not acceptable, moon? Are we not lovely sitting together here Ã¢â'¬Â¦?

She puts one leg in the car and says, "I guess now you know you're not the only freak." It's the nicest thing she's ever said to me.

You make me love you, and that could be the greatest thing my heart was ever fit to do.

When she looks up again two miles later, she says, "You know what I like about you, Finch? You're interesting. You're different. And I can talk to you. Don't let that go to your head." The air around us feels charged and electric, like if you were to strike a match, the air, the car, Violet, me—everything might just explode. I keep my eyes on the road. "You know what I like about you, Ultraviolet Remarkey-able? Everything.

I love: the way her eyes spark when we're talking or when she's telling me something she wants me to know, the way she mouths the words herself when she's reading and concentrating, the way she looks at me as if there's only me, as if she can past the flesh and bone and bullshit right into the me that's there, the one I don't even see myself.

I want to say It's okay to be a person. We're all afraid. We all get hurt. It's okay to hurt. You'd be so much more likable if you just acted human.

The thing I can't, won't, mention to him is that I see Finch everywhere—in the hallways at school, on the street, in my neighborhood. Someone's face will remind me of him, or someone's walk or someone's laugh. It's like being surrounded by a thousand different Finches. I wonder if this is normal

I remember her hand in mine and how that felt, as if something and someone belonged to me.

What a terrible feeling to love someone and not be able to help them. Actually, I know exactly how that feels.