Quotes About Connection

When I first met you, I thought we were made for each other even though we seemed like opposites in some ways and we fought. But now... What? Now I feel like we weren't made for each other. We're making each other—into the people we should become. Do you know what I mean?

To know someone, to be known. That matters more than he'd ever thought it would.

When you're in the world looking for only one thing, you find it or it finds you. The obsession can be mutual

New losses dig up past losses, as if one needs the other to remember how it's done.

A wave could crash down on an individual and sweep them out to sea. But if we stand together, we buoy up and then down. It's but a ripple.

They need eachother. They always have and always will. Maybe he should just be happy with that fact. Not everyone gets to need someone and to be needed permanently, forever.

I don't know you. That's the problem.

Like my ancestors, I believe that stories can save us. Our stories are our greatest currency. What one person is willing to share with another is a test of intimacy, a gift that's given.

home is a feeling as much as it is a place; it is as much about loving what I do as being where I am.

Dad was not a religious man, and he once said to me that he didn't think he would believe in God at all were it not for the existence of two things: trees — and man's conscience. He said that without trees, we would not survive on this planet, for they feed us, clothe us, shelter us, make oxygen. Without a conscience, man would probably never have developed beyond a primitive state.

And before he knew what he was doing, he reached out and with a thumb brushed away one teardrop glistening in that mauve crescent beneath her eyes. And then he looked down at his thumb, and rubbed the tear out of existence, right into his skin.

I have learned that everyone else in the world is boring except you.

He regarded her thoughtfully, and something about that look traveled up her spine like a trailed finger.

Before him and since he'd gone away, she'd either contracted or ever-so-subtly contorted her very being to accommodate nearly everybody else. She was only ever wholly herself with him.

What was love if not a certain pleasantly deluded familiarity built up over years?

Your happiness, quite simply, is my happiness. Cynthia slowly closed her eyes against the look in his. Cannot bear.

A girl could forget her precise location in the universe when a man looked at her with eyes like those.

But is not one a result of the other?" she asked. "Love and loyalty? I cannot see how could you prefer one to the other.

Not every man will make you want to do anything he wishes because the moment he touches you your body is his to command. Not every man is capable of making you scream with bliss in every imaginable position, or knows where to touch you or listens to your breath and your sighs to know precisely how to touch you, so that the pleasure you experience is the most intense. Not every man will make you see stars every ...single... time.

You are my dream, Cynthia.

For what it's worth . . . I don't think anyone you love is ever truly gone. I do very much feel their absence . . . but I also feel their presence all the time, in a new way. In some ways they're with me now more than ever. I don't know if that makes sense.

Their faces were inches apart now, and he traced her lips with one finger, lightly, lightly, then placed his lips there as if he'd drawn them into being.

She mulled how very Jonathan of him to effortlessly find his way to her when she needed him, labyrinth or no. Just as he'd effortlessly uncovered her secrets. But that was simply because he'd been born knowing the secret to her. He was hers and she was his. Just as there was one key for every lock

It might have begun a bit like a chess game, but it had taken on its own momentum, and owned both of them.