Quotes About Connection

To me the great divide is between the talkative and the quiet. Do they just say everything that's on their minds, even before it's on their minds? Sometimes I think I could just turn up my head like a Walkman so what's going on there could be heard by others. But there would still be a difference. For inside the head they are talking to people like them, and I am talking to someone like me: he is quiet and doesn't much like being talked at; he can't conceal how easily he gets bored.

In creating a "hold upon nearness" the poetic word creates a place where we can stand for a while, allowing us to bear witness to our own being.

Though free to think and act, we are all held together, like the stars in the firmament, with ties inseparable. Except

De Melkweg,' fluisterde hij in zichzelf... Marika stond naast hem en keek ook omhoog. Ze hief een arm op en volgde het helder oplichtende spoor. 'Sak be,' zei ze in de taal van de Maya's.

AUTHOR'S NOTE TO READERS: TRUTH OR FICTION Everything in this book is true, except for what's not. I thought I'd end this adventure by splitting those hairs. First, two elements gave birth to this story. I came upon each independently, but I knew there had to be a connection and that Sigma would need to investigate.

You mentioned you had a connection to Antarctica." "I once lived there, but it's been a while. My mom, stepdad, and sister are still there . . . near McMurdo Station.

How does one find peace outside the bounds of the Church?" "Acceptance and mindfulness

Hermetic principle often associated with the Knights Templar: As above, so below.

Kady!' ... 'Jake!' riep ze. Toen rolde de golf over haar heen en veranderde haar in steen.

Jake,' zei de vrouw... 'Mam...

Dit is Pangaea. - Jake

Though free to think and act, we are all held together, like the stars in the firmament, with ties inseparable.

We are star-stuff. We are a way for the cosmos to know itself.

At some point we need to be understood as more of a porous social platform than an impervious temple to culture.

Books are the bees which carry the quickening pollen from one to another mind.

Not what we give, But what we share, For the gift without the giver Is bare.

Even as the roots, shut in the darksome earth, Share in the tree top's joyance, and conceive Of sunshine and wide air and winged things, By sympathy of nature, so do I

You are not alone. You are instead lonely. There is loneliness as can exist only in the midst of numbers and numbers of people who don't know you, who don't care about you, who won't let you care about them.

Things of the world try to connect. Prodigal rain issues from a sky into which trees rise like pleading hands. Days bear us lightly across the face of the world as every year the ground pulls harder, recalling like a spurned lover, ever more fixedly, how much it wants us.

He wasn't much, mind you—just family

Now they are lovers. The first, wild courses are ended. They have founded their domain. A satanic happiness follows.

Do you know what it is to be really intimate, to feel safe with someone who will never betray you, will never force you to act unlike yourself? That was what we had.

He was the friend of my life. You know, you only have one friend like that; there can't be two.

It was love, the furnace into which everything was dropped.