Quotes About Connection

No-one loves another More than he loves whatever another within may have That is part of one's self

But do my words ring in anyone else's soul? Does anyone hear them besides me?

Anyone who wants to be understood will never know the delight of being understood, because this happens only to the complex and misunderstood; simple souls, the ones whom other people can understand, never feel a desire to be understood.

Eu adoro todas as coisas E o meu coração é um albergue aberto toda a noite. Tenho pela vida um interesse ávido Que busca compreendê-la sentindo-a muito. Amo tudo, animo tudo, empresto humanidade a tudo, Aos homens e às pedras, às almas e às máquinas.

Does the peace I feel when I see you belong to you or to me?

We feel the weather even when we are unaware that we do.

We all love each other, and the lie is the kiss we exchange.

I have an anguished, painful need to speak with you.

No one understands anyone else. We are, as the poet said, enisled in the sea of life; between us flows the sea that defines and separates us. However hard one soul struggles to know another soul, he can only judge by what words are spoken - a formless shadow on the floor of his understanding.

Only at night and all alone, withdrawn, forgotten and lost, with no connection to anything real or useful – only then do I find myself and feel comforted.

No hables... sucedes demasiado... me apena estar viéndote.

O que parece haver de desprezo entre homem e homem, de indiferente que permite que se mate gente sem que se sinta que se mata, como entre os assassinos, ou sem que se pense que se está matando, como entre os soldados, é que ninguém presta a devida atenção ao facto, parece que abstruso, de que os outros são almas também.

Passeávamos às vezes, braço dado, sob os cedros e as olaias e nenhum de nós pensava em viver

La maggior parte delle persone si ammala per non saper esprimere quello che vede e quello che pensa.

Solo me han amado de verdad en una ocasión. Simpatías, las he tenido siempre, y de todos. Ni al más ocasional le ha sido fácil ser grosero, o ser brusco, o incluso ser frío conmigo. He tenido algunas simpatías que, con mi ayuda, podría -quizá al menos- haber convertido en amor o afecto. Nunca he tenido la paciencia o la disposición de espíritu para ni siquiera desear emplear ese esfuerzo.

The basest of all human needs is the need to confide, to confess. It is the soul's need to go outside itself.

El amor requiere posesión, mas no sabe qué es la posesión. Si yo no soy mío, ¿cómo puedo ser tuyo, o tú mía? Si no poseo mi propio ser, ¿cómo podría poseer un ser ajeno? Si ya soy diferente de aquél de quien soy idéntico, ¿cómo seré idéntico de aquél de quien ya soy diferente? El amor es un misticismo que exige practicarse, una imposibilidad que es sólo soñada como debiendo ser posible.

No one understands anyone else. We are, as the poet* said, islands in the sea of life; between us flows the sea that defines and separates us.

But if God is the flowers and trees And hills and sun and moon, Then why should I call him God? I'll call him flowers and trees and hills and sun and moon.

I see life as a roadside inn where I have to stay until the coach from the abyss pulls up. I don't know where it will take me, because I don't know anything. I could see this inn as a prison, for I'm compelled to wait in it; I could see it as a social centre, for it's here that I meet others.

I've always been treated in a friendly manner, and even people I hardly know have rarely been rude or brusque or cold to me. In certain people that friendly manner, with my encouragement, might have been converted into love or affection, but I've never had the patience or mental concentration to even want to make the effort.

We never love anyone. We love only our idea of what someone is like. We love an idea of our own; in short, it is ourselves that we love.

Have you ever thought, O Other, how invisible we are to each other? Have you already pondered how little we know each other? We see each other and do not see each other. We hear each other, and we each hear only a voice inside us. The words of others are errors in our hearing, shipwrecks in our understanding. How confidently we believe in our interpretation of other people's words.

Tudo que nos cerca se torna parte de nós, se nos infiltra na sensação da carne e da vida, e, baba da grande Aranha, nos liga subtilmente ao que está perto, enleando-nos num leito leve de morte lenta, onde baloiçamos ao vento. Tudo é nós, e nós somos tudo; mas de que serve isto, se tudo é nada?