Quotes About Connection

I made a new friend in the summer of 1999 who wore a rubber band around her wrist with Paul Westerberg's name written on it. Her favorite song was "Unsatisfied" and she gave the song back to me, without knowing she was doing it, and soon I loved it as much as ever.

That same power translates everywhere, all around the world, because nothing expresses joy like singing together.

And sometimes I think, man, all the people I get to hear this song with, we're going to miss each other when we die. When we die, we will turn into songs, and we will hear each other and remember each other.

It you're feeling happy vibes, they're from me, " Stephanie told me after she mailed the tape. "I'm vibin' you real hard. I'm building a wall of love around you, three inches all around.

but somehow, it's part of why Stevie Nicks means so much to us. It's why we hear our own broken forevers in this music, why we hear our own emotional avalanches in her songs. When she rides the landslide, she rides it all the way down, and she takes us down with her.

Some couples stop making each other tapes—I have no idea what happens to them.

When we die, we will turn into songs, and we will hear each other and remember each other.

It's always that one song that gets to you. You can hide, but the song comes to find you.

There are all kinds of mix tapes. there is always a reason to make one.

I'd shut the whole world down just to tell you

I had no voice to talk with because she was my whole language.

I realize that I will never fully understand the millions of bizarre ways that music brings people together.

But the answer is simple. Love is a mix tape.

Nothing connects to the moment like music. I count the music to bring me back, or more precisely, to bring her forward.

I had no voice to talk with because she was my whole language. Without her to talk to, there was nothing to say.

When you stick a song on a tape, you set it free.

As I took Allison to the airport for her flight into San Francisco and the rest of her life, I thought about how lucky her father and I were to have had her in our lives. My time with her was over, though I was sure we would stay in touch. I kept thinking I should be sad, but I felt content more than anything. Now, I'm not saying I won't want to call her every day, and she'll probably die without me, but why ruin something so perfect trying to stay together?

Their mutual misanthropy had sealed the deal.

She didn't want to be in their club. Didn't want to learn how to be apart from the one person she longed to see every day.

I am your brother. I was supposed to be your brother before either of us was born. Karmic debt. It appears I was Vlad the Impaler or Genghis Khan in a past life.

You're the little spoon, aren't you?

Every inner touch, every one of its fingerprints on my brain, burned like acid. It shredded the walls of my soul like tissue paper, it clawed its way into my very center, I couldn't tell anymore where it began and I ended. It poured into me like a river into the sea, mixing, melding, until we were one. One. For better or worse. Until death do us part.

How can I love when you're so cheap?

However, it may come as a surprise to know that in the Hebrew language the word for "service" is the same word used for "worship.