Quotes About Connection

As she left the house and walked to the bus stop, it occurred to her that, really, a mother never stops carrying her child, and this thought brought tears to her eyes.

So thank you for noticing, and thank you, too, for what you said just now: I knew you were mine. These are words every book wants to hear, and they sent a tremor of delight down our spine.

No era un poema. Era un único carácter. Cinco trazos. Sei. Ikiru. Vivir. Sujetando aún el pincel, nos miró a mi padre y a mí: —Por el momento —nos dijo a los dos—. Por ahora.

Sometimes you don't need words to say what's in your heart.

Jiko says that everything has a spirit, even if it is old and useless, and we must console and honor the things that have served us well

Think of us as a mycelium, a vast, subconscious fungal mat beneath a forest floor, and each book a fruiting body. Like mushrooms, we are a collectivity. Our pronouns are we, our, us.

He said he didn't need religion because he had jazz.

The first words of a book are of utmost importance. The moment of encounter, when a reader turns to that first page and reads those opening words, it's like locking eyes or touching someone's hand for the first time, and we feel it, too.

It was the most ordinary thing in the world, but it felt like we were lovers or something, because in Japan dads don't generally hug and kiss their kids. Don't ask me why. They just don't. But we kissed and hugged because we were American, at least in our hearts, and then we'd both step away really fast in case anyone was watching.

And yet, at night I lie on my bed, counting my beads, one for every thing on earth I love, on and on, in a circle without end.

That's the thing about Jiko, one of her superpowers, is that just by being in the same room with you, she can make you feel okay about yourself.

Listen! 'To Benny, who hears the cries of the world.' Isn't that beautiful? And it's so true, don't you think?

For the second time since she left Japan, she shivered with excitement. She'd felt it at the dinner table at Thanksgiving, and now, again, even stronger—as if somehow she'd been absorbed into a massive body that had taken over the functions of her own, and now it was infusing her small heart with the superabundance of its feeling, teaching her taut belly to swell, stretching her rib cage, and pumping spurts of happy life into her fetus.

Children, I came to understand, need you around, even if they ignore you. In fact they need you around so they can ignore you.

Lulu writes: "When Mother, Mr. Jones and I were walking through those strange, crowded downtown streets, where people were sticking their hands into pickle barrels, pointing to smoked fish, and eating sliced herring, I saw the scene in a whole new way. They weren't buying food: They were finding their way home.

I wonder if any of us ever really knows another person?" she replied, sounding wistful.

What I was learning, on those weekend walks, is how much you can find out about a person merely by watching what he eats. Food became my own private way of looking at the world.

Till I was back in your arms again." She had a nice voice, and I hummed along

It was Mac who first made me think about the way food brought people together — and kept them apart.

I was slowly discovering that if you watched people as they ate, you could find out who they were.

In time, I came to understand that for people who really love it, food is a lens through which to view the world. For us, the way that people cook and eat, how they set their tables, and the utensils that they use all tell a story.

when you cook for people, they feel cared for.

home. Recognizing him, she said this before he

She believed that friendships, to begin well, had to stand on mutual information and lots of it.