Quotes About Connection

My songs are just little letters to me.

Strangers are exciting, their mystery never ends. But, there's nothing like looking at your own history in the faces of your friends.

Pop stardom is not very compelling. I'm much more interested in a relationship between performer and audience that is of equals. I came up through folk music, and there's no pomp and circumstance to the performance. There's no, like, 'I'll be the rock star, you be the adulating fan.'

If more people were screamin', I could relax.

I do it for the joy it brings, cause I'm a joyful girl. 'Cause the world owes us nothing, we owe each other the world.

I build each one of my days out of hope and I give that hope your name 'cause I know there is strength in the differences between us and I know there is comfort where we overlap come here stand in front of the light stand still so I can see your sillouette I hope you have got all night 'cause I'm not done looking, no, I'm not done looking yet

poetry is a way of seeing and that a poet is not so much a person skilled with words as a person who recognizes the poetry that exists all the time all around us.

Music was an entry point, like a passport or a key that allows you through an invisible portal into the beating heart of the world. The collective heart that unites us . . . (in a unified field of consciousness, in the bodily experience of being animals in time) and also into the hearts of individuals . . . (into that person and that person). Music showed itself to me as a fractal way in.

Look in the face of your beloved, For in that mirror, you will see yourself.

They lived in such a deep state of feeling for each other, whether love or hate, that it surrounded them like the weather.

I recognized the poem from Maulana Rumi and felt touched to the depths of my heart when I realized that Pari was committing both of us to God's care. "I will never abandon you. You are the star that I follow always." Pari's eyes misted. "Yes," she said softly, "you alone of all my servants have truly loved me." "With all my heart.

I don't have royal blood," I told her, "but we two could have been twins. It was as if we swam in the same fluids in our mother 's womb, so that some of my maleness became hers and some of her femaleness mine. That made us strange in the eyes of the world, which does not care for in-between beings. We have both taken blows because of it. She was protean, as am I. She was fierce and affectionate and smart and unpredictable. That is why I loved her . . . that is why!

Be forever dead in Eurydice, and climb back singing. Climb praising as you return to connection. Here among the disappearing, in the realm of the transient, be a ringing glass that shatters as it rings. Be. And know as well the need to not be: let that ground of all that changes bring you to completion now. To all that has run its course, and to the vast unsayable numbers of beings abounding in Nature, add yourself gladly, and cancel the cost. Sonnets to Orpheus II, 13

To love does not mean to surrender, dissolve, and merge with another person. It is the noble opportunity for an individual to ripen, to become something in and of himself. To become a world in response to another is a great immodest challenge that has sought him out and called him forth.

Springtimes have needed you. And there are stars expecting you to notice them.

Love Song How shall I hold my soul to not intrude upon yours? How shall I lift it beyond you to other things? I would gladly lodge it with lost objects in the dark, in some far still place that does not tremble when you tremble. But all that touches us, you and me, plays us together, like the bow of a violin that from two strings draws forth one voice. On what instrument are we strung? What musician is playing us? Oh sweet song.

Between yourself & the beloved, between yourself & your joy, the riverbank swaying with wildflowers, the shaft of sunlight on the rock, the song. Will you pass through it now, will you let it consume whatever solidness this is you call your life, & send you out, a tremor of heat, a radiance, a changed flickering thing?

You are wrong if you think you cannot live without love. I cannot live without it. I do not mean that I go into a decline, develop odd symptoms, became a caricature. I mean that I cannot live well without it. I cannot think or act or speak or write or even dream with any kind of energy in the absence of love. I feel excluded from the living world. I become cold, fish-like, immobile. I implode.

I am not a romantic. I am a domestic animal. I do not sigh and yearn for extravagant displays of passion, for the grand affair, the world well lost for love. I know all that, and know that it leaves you lonely. No, what I crave is the simplicity of routine. An evening walk, arm in arm, in fine weather. A game of cards. Time for idle talk. Preparing a meal together.

Accountability in friendship is the equivalent of love without strategy.

I have been aware of a boredom, a restlessness, that no ordinary friendship can satisfy: only an extraordinary one.

I saw the business of writing for what it truly was and is to me. It is your penance for not being lucky. It is an attempt to reach others and to make them love you.

I simply want to live with someone so that I can begin my life.

I, who found it so difficult to shed my beady isolation, must in fact never appear to be lonely.