Quotes About Connection

counterpart, in

matinees had borrowed freely from those ancient tales. And that the stories we learned in Sunday school corresponded with those of other cultures that recognized the soul's high adventure, the quest of mortals to grasp the reality of God. He helped me to see the connections, to understand how the pieces fit, and not merely to fear less but to welcome what he described as "a mighty multicultural future.

it is my hometown love of the human, the living and ordinary. All warmth derives from this love, all kindness and all humor.

Myth helps you to put your mind in touch with this experience of being alive. It tells you what the experience is.

Chief Seattle: "The Earth does not belong to Man; Man belongs to the Earth."6

In order to move others deeply we must deliberately allow ourselves to be carried away beyond the bounds of our normal sensibility

It is when we try to grapple with another man's intimate need that we perceive how incomprehensible, wavering and misty are the beings that share with us the sight of the stars and the warmth of the sun. It is as if loneliness were a hard and absolute condition of existence; the envelope of flesh and blood on which our eyes are fixed melts before the outstretched hand, and there remains only the capricious, unconsolable and elusive spirit that no eye can follow, no hand can grasp.

I slipped the book into my pocket. I assure you to leave off reading was like tearing myself away from the shelter of an old and solid friendship.

He existed for me, and after all it is only through me that he exists for you.

You take a different view of your actions when you come to understand, when you are made to understand every day that your existence is necessary - you see, absolutely necessary - to another person.

the sea and the sky were welded together without a joint...

Each blade of grass has its spot on earth whence it draws its life, its strength; and so is man rooted to the land from which he draws his faith together with his life.

I assure you to leave off reading was like tearing myself away from the shelter of an old and solid friendship.

To cut oneself entirely from one's kind is impossible. To live in a desert one must be a saint.

The beauty of the loved woman exists in the beauties of Nature.

the weakness of many tellers of tales who seem so often unaware of what their audience would best like to hear;

The girl he had come across, of whom he had possessed himself, to whose presence he was not yet accustomed, with whom he did not yet know how to live; that human being so near and still so strange, gave him a greater sense of his own reality than he had ever known in all his life.

For the dead can live only with the exact intensity and quality of the life imparted to them by the living.

An author writes only half the book. The rest is written by readers.

brain as a shadow passes away upon a white screen. She lives in the cottage and works for Miss Swaffer. She is Amy Foster for everybody, and the child is 'Amy Foster's boy.' She calls him Johnny—which means Little John. It is impossible to say whether this name recalls anything to her. Does she ever think of the past? I have seen her hanging over the boy's cot in a

Everything in the world reminded him of her.  The beauty of the loved woman exists in the beauties of Nature.  The swelling outlines of the hills, the curves of a coast, the free sinuosities of a river are less suave than the harmonious lines of her body, and when she moves, gliding lightly, the grace of her progress suggests the power of occult forces which rule the fascinating aspects of the visible world.

It is when we try to grapple with another man's intimate need that we perceive how incomprehensible, wavering and misty are the beings that share with us the sight of the stars and the warmth of the sun.

Adev?rata via?? a unui om este aceea care i se acord? în mintea altora pe baza respectului sau a dragostei fireÈ™ti.

I wouldn't have mentioned the fellow to you at all, only it was from his lips that I first heard the name of the man who is so indissolubly connected with the memories of that time.