Quotes About Connection

Ormus liked to compose his own songs up on the flat roof of the apartment block, and spent eternities up there, lost within himself, searching for the points at which his inner life intersected the life of the greater world outside, and calling those points of intersection songs.

the act of falling in love with a book or story changes us in some way, and the beloved tale becomes a part of our picture of the world, a part of the way in which we understand things and make judgments and choices in our daily lives.

Death and life were just adjacent verandas.

people understood for the first time [...] that in the end the salvation of human beings came from other human beings and not from things, no matter how large and imposing – and even magical – those things might be

As a people, we are obsessed with correspondences. Similarities between this and that, between apparently unconnected things, make us clap our hands delightedly when we find them out. It is a sort of national longing for form—or perhaps simply an expression of our deep belief that forms lie hidden within reality; that meaning reveals itself only in flashes.

Then she found him. - And maybe he'd invented her, too, a little bit, invented someone worth rushing out of one's old life to love. - Nothing so remarkable in that. Happens often enough; and the two inventors go on, rubbing the rough edges off one another, adjusting their inventions, moulding imagination to actuality, learning how to be together; or not. It works out or it doesn't.

Water creates love more easily than victory.

And my chutneys and kasaundies are, after all, connected to my nocturnal scribblings –– by day amongst the pickle-vats, by night within these sheets, I spend my time at the great work of preserving. Memory, as well as fruit, is being saved from the corruption of the clocks.

Forget the soul. No such ghost in the machine. What happens to our mind befalls our body also. The condition of the body is also the state of the mind.

This may be the curse of the human race, not that we are so different from one another, but that we are so alike.

The curse of the human race is not that we are so different from one another, but that we are so alike.

I am everyone everything whose being-in-the-world affected was affected by mine. I am anything that happens after I've gone which would not have happened if I had not come. Nor am I particularly exceptional in this matter; each "I," every one of the now-six-hundred-million-plus of us, contains a similar multitude. I repeat for the last time: to understand me, you'll have to swallow a world.

habit of calling each other 'Jim'. No darlings or honeys or babes for them. In his low American drawl and her bright English chirp they Jimmed the Old Year out. 'Hey, Jim?' 'Yes, Jim?' 'Happy New Year, Jim.' 'Happy New Year to you too, Jim.' 'I love you, Jim.' 'I love you too, Jim.' 1990 arrived with a smile in the company of Jim and Jim.

you lost parents. Your grief defines you and shuts you off from other people. That's what I think.

This is how we are: we fall in love with each other's strengths, but love deepens toward permanence when we fall in love with each other's weaknesses.

Human beings who turn away from God lose love, and certainty

Who what am I? My answer: I am the sum total of everything that went before me, of all I have been seen done, of everything done-to-me. I am everyone everything whose being-in-the-world affected was affected by mine. I am anything that happens after I've gone which would not have happened if I had not come.

Between the adored and the adorer falls the shadow.

Things – even people – have a way of leaking into each other,' I explain, 'like flavours when you cook. Ilse Lubin's suicide, for example, leaked into old Aadam and sat there in a puddle until he saw God.

I should have known: no escape from past acquaintance. What you were is forever who you are.

And all the time she held on to me; like a mother protecting her child, she shielded me from my family. (Who were learning … as I was … that they were not …)

At the beginning of all love there is a private treaty each of the lovers makes with himself or herself, an agreement to set aside what is wrong with the other for the sake of what is right.

Mogor had been right. The curse of the human race is not that we are so different from one another, but that we are so alike.

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