Quotes About Connection

Still, the place was a undoubtedly a telegraph-office

The Stranger within my gate, He may be true or kind, But does not talk my talk – I cannot feel his mind. I see the face and the eyes and the mouth, But not the soul behind.

I see that ye are dogs. I go from you to my own people- if they be my own people.

It's queer, she thought, when you're kind to people you can forget them but when you're not, you can't.

Perhaps it was the pulling up of her stakes, or claims, to her private loves, renouncing them, that had made room for these people in a kind of universal love, without any claims.

In me you exist,' says the house.

Kagura, are you free now..? Did you ever... Become the wind?- Kanna

It's alright now...I was able to see you...One last time...- Kagura

love, for instance. Everybody experiences it, craves it, requires it for his or her very existence, knows it's there. But no one can explain it, break it down into physics and chemistry.

my blue eyes peering into their brown eyes and seeing there some essential part of myself, some irreducible aspect of my being, which in turn gave them back the same reflected version of themselves

We pass between sea and sky with unaccountable, humiliating ease, as if there were no firmament between the firmaments, no above or below, here or there, now or then, with only the feeble conventions of language, our contrived principles, and our love of one another's light to keep our own light from going out; abandon any one of them, and we dissolve in darkness like salt in water.

it is we who live for the dead and not the dead who live for us.

Other people were in one world; he was in a second. And the distance between their worlds caused other concern and perplexity made them curious about him -- for here he was alone in his world; and there they were gathered together in theirs.

Looking at them words going down on this paper right this minim I know there aint no such thing there aint no only my self you all ways have every 1 and every thing on your back.

Here below the surface one studies the depths of TO BE, as manifest in AM, IS, and ARE. And if you don't hold up your end of the conversation I may very well snap you in two.

People ask me how I got from St Eustace to Riddley Walker and all I can say is that it's a matter of being friends with your head. Things come into the mind and wait to hook up with other things; there are places that can heighten your responses, and if you let your head go its own way it might, with luck, make interesting connections. On March 14th, 1974 I got lucky.

Writing isn't just a job that stops at six thirty... It's a mad, sexy, sad, scary, ruthless, joyful, and utterly, utterly personal thing. There's not the writer and then me; there's just me. All of my life connects to the writing. All of it.

She grieved for her lost daughter and she grieved for herself.  When Cicely uncovered the deception of her adoption, she uncovered a greater deception—that of Charlotte's ambiguous heart.  It was true—Charlotte had wanted her own daughter with a desire beyond reason.  She had wanted a daughter of her own flesh and blood to link her to life.  A connection not based on deeds or shared experiences or love, but something immutable and immortal. She

May my spiritual senses develop day by day, becoming more and more keen and enjoyable. May my taste for You become stronger and sweeter. May my sight of You become clearer, my spiritual ears more sensitive to Your voice.

Grant me a growing ability to see all things as a stepping stone to You:

Jiko: Surfer, wave, same thing. That's just stupid, I said. A surfer's a person. A wave is a wave. How can they be the same? Jiko looked out across the ocean to where the water met the sky. A wave is born from deep conditions of the ocean. A person is born from deep conditions of the world. A person pokes up from the world and rolls along like a wave, until it is time to sink down again. Up, down. Person, wave.

I helped Jiko to her feet and we walked back to the bus stop together, holding hands again. I was still thinking about what she said about waves, and it made me sad because I knew that her little wave was not going to last and soon she would join the sea again, and even though I know you can't hold on to water , still I gripped her fingers a little more tightly to keep her from leaking away.

When you beat a drum, you create NOW, when silence becomes a sound so enormous and alive it feels like you're breathing in the clouds and the sky, and your heart is the rain and the thunder.

Time itself is being, he wrote, and all being is time . . . In essence, everything in the entire universe is intimately linked with each other as moments in time, continuous and separate.