Quotes About Connection

Isn't it obvious?" "Apparently not." "I'm not just writing about you," said Shane. "I'm writing to you.

No matter how perilous the journey, it's never over for true soul mates.

I don't want these clinical, awkward setups. I don't feel like doing this twenty more times. I can't imagine meeting my soulmate through an interview process. I want to know without words. I want fall so violently that I risk breaking into a million pieces. I want to love so desperately it's indecent. I want it to be wild and fated and forever. A no choice connection.

A tree grows its branches out until it touches the tips of the next closest tree. And they're linked forever. Because if they're really close, their roots grow together. They're so intertwined underneath that no matter what happens above ground, they stay connected.

I want to know without words. I want to fall so violently that I risk breaking into a million pieces. I want to love so desperately it's indecent. I want it to be wild and fated and forever. A no-choice connection.

It never ends, does it? Loving you never ends. Whether you're Genevieve or Eva. Whether I lose you for years or wake up to your face every morning. I love you. You're my home. And I want you forever.

I've always loved you," he whispered. "What a coincidence," she whispered back. "I've always loved you, too.

She did think of him sometimes. Lying alone in a hospital bed at 2:00 a.m., or during bouts of writer's block. He'd appear on the fringes of her thoughts—no face, just a feeling. His warm, minty-vanilla scent. The rough softness of his skin, like velvet caressed against the grain.

I thought you were a problem that needed solving. But you don't need solving. You need understanding.

I wanna be everything," he said, his mouth against her ear. "Wanna be the reason you light up. I wanna make you laugh, make you moan, make you safe.

I wanna be where all your paths end." He nipped her earlobe. "I wanna do everything you do to me." He pulsed his finger then, and she came with a shuddery cry. "You're hired," she breathed.

If you listen hard enough, you can tell what a person needs from you. And if you give them what they need, you've got a friend for life.

Given that those sinning, raping plantation owners had both white babies and Black babies, everyone was six degrees from being one or the other. Which was what scared southern white people the most.

Listen. Caring about things doesn't make you soft. It makes you alive.

I want to be the thought that lulls you to sleep. The memory that gets you off.

squeezes, their secret I love you code.

This is that family feeling, he thought. Of total acceptance, belonging to people. A connection that eclipsed everything.

Books were her kids.

Then he met Eva, and she breathed the same air. She stuck to his bones, imprinted herself on his brain—and thoroughly rearranged his world, in the best way.

When someone went too long without touch, they became hypersensitive to the slightest graze. There was truth to it. Last weekend, Eva had almost had an orgasm when her hairstylist shampooed her. And her hairstylist was a grandmother of six.

How," she started, "do you explain this to people?" "I don't." "That simple, huh?" Eva was awed. "It's ours," he said simply. "Sacred.

Eva bit her lip, trying to keep her guilty, thrilled smile from spreading. Shane. She'd divulged all to him.

Listen, caring about things don't make you soft. It makes you alive.

History doesn't repeat itself," said Shane. "But it rhymes." "Who said that? Nas?" "Mark Twain.