Quotes About Connection

moment as the two men's gazes met, neither attempting

continue, stared down at her feet. Her companion's

Even a painful longing is some form of presence. from "A Nest of Quiet: A Notebook," trans. Clare Cavanagh, Poetry (1 May 2012)

Where your pain is, there your heart lies also.

I've learned to value failed conversations, missed connections, confusions. What remains is what's unsaid, what's underneath. Understanding on another level of being.

She looked, and saw the black, domed sky arching over her head. And her heart dilated; she felt the great black dome in her heart. She sat under the stars, worshipping them. Her heart opened and grew vast, until the whole sky with all its stars began to pour into her, a mysterious flood of star-strung darkness. She wanted to receive the night sky into her heart.

There is, I believe, a kind of telepathy between the condemned: a sort of intuitive recognition which can even make itself felt through the medium of the printed page. How else should I feel—without fear of appearing presumptuous, either—for this great man whom I never saw and to whom I could not have spoken, the tender, wincing, pathetic solicitude that painfully comes into being only between fellow-sufferers?

It was always the same now, the ghost always coming between her and her life in the world, so much more important, since that lost being was still her only companion, and their now-obsolete relationship the one true human contact she would ever have.

she had come to him when he was no longer there…because he had not found the young man with the scarred cheek he could not come to her through the glass.

For the first time in her life she could talk openly of the things which interested her and were important to her. She had a great need of speech, of putting her thoughts into words; otherwise her thoughts seemed to escape her, flying about her brain in a wild confusion. It needed the power of words to put them in their places. And Rachel was full of understanding, using her sensitiveness to fan the thoughts of Anna towards coherency.

But he had held her hand, he had looked into her face in the dark hall, and a strange ecstatic entrancement had come over her, as though she would like to stand there forever, just feeling her hand in his. The extraordinary comfort that filled her heart because of that contact with another human being! She knew that she must feel it again, that, like a drug-taker, she would never be satisfied until she had repeated that unique and trance-like sensation.

My father was an Episcopalian minister, and I've always been comforted by the power of prayer.

The world has little to bestow Where two fond hearts in equal love are joined.

Society than solitude is worse And man to man is still the greatest curse.

We neither laugh alone, nor weep alone, why then should we pray alone?

To fall in love is easy, even to remain in it is not difficult; our human loneliness is cause enough. But it is a hard quest worth making to find a comrade through whose steady presence one becomes steadily the person one desires to be.

Entra pure » disse continuando a sorridere in quel modo, lo sguardo dovunque, meno che dove io ero, e porgendomi la mano sudata. « Scusa se ho la mano sudata. Come stai? ».

In the family sandwich, the older people and the younger ones can recognize one another as the bread. Those in the middle are, for a time, the meat.

E-mails are letters, after all, more lasting than phone calls, even if many of them r 2 cursory 4 u.

The great motherhood friendships are the ones in which two women can admit [how difficult mothering is] quietly to each other, over cups of tea at a table sticky with spilled apple juice and littered with markers without tops.

Did I know that Donetsk used to be called Yuzovka, after a Welshman, John Hughes, who opened the first foundry on the site? Did I know that Donetsk was twinned with Cardiff?

Not only can what others are suffering be a consolation while we are suffering, but even knowing what others suffered long ago can be consoling.

When I was still a living man in the life that I lived, I met a young fellow. His name was George. I latched on to him. We shared our pain and joy. He was much younger than I was. I valued everything about young George. In that young man I found again everything I prized in life. Now he has as little to do with me as a living man does with a dead one. May he think of me from time to time, if he has the time for it. I know that the living are very busy.

Anything that keeps one from feeling alone can be a consolation. Not only can what others are suffering be a consolation while we are suffering, but even knowing what others suffered long ago can be consoling.