Quotes About Connection

I pledge to set out to live a thousand lives between printed pages. I pledge to use books as doors to other minds, old and young, girl and boy, man and animal. I pledge to use books to open windows to a thousand different worlds and to the thousand different faces of my own world. I pledge to use books to make my universe spread much wider than the world I live in every day. I pledge to treat my books like friends, visiting them all from time to time and keeping them close.

Weren't all books ultimately related? After all, the same letters filled them, just arranged in a different order. Which meant that, in a certain way, every book was contained in every other!

Nobody loves only once.

He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her full on the mouth. His skin was wet with rain. When she didn't pull away, he took her face between his hands and kissed her again, on her forehead, on her nose, on her mouth once more. You will come, won't you? Promisse! he whispered.

Don't let it worry you, not being able to speak,'Dustfinger had often told her. 'People tend not to listen anyway, right?

Wood always remembers it was once a living tree, alive and breathing in both kingdoms, the one above and the one below.

She pressed her hand against her chest. No heart. So where did the love she felt come from?

How loud a heart could beat. Until it took your breath away.

A longing for books [is] nothing compared with what you [can] feel for human beings. The books [tell] you about that feeling. The books [speak] of love, and it [is] wonderful to listen to them, but they [are] no substitute for love itself.

with every new day, Fenoglio's story was spinning a magic spell around her heart, sticky as spider's webs and enchantingly beautiful

Where did the love come from? What was it made of?

Bücher liebten jeden, der sie aufschlug, schenkten Geborgenheit und Freundschaft und verlangten nichts dafür, gingen nie fort, niemals, selbst dann nicht, wenn man sie schlecht behandelte.

It was hard to let go of love. Once woven, its ribbon was hard to tear, and this one she'd woven quite firmly herself.

He bent over Farid and wiped some soot from his cold forehead. Roxanne knows it, he said. She'll tell it to you. Just go to her and... and tell her I've had to go away. Tell her I'm going to find out if the story is true. He spoke with a strange kind of hesitation, as if it were infinitely difficult to find the right words. And remind her of my promise— that I'll always find a way back to her, wherever I am. Will you tell her that?

Why were love and death such close neighbors?

Together. Even in death. His fingers tightened their grip around her hand. A double statue of silver. Romantic. What would their faces show? Fear? Or love?

Sometimes, through the window of a car coming the other way, she caught a glimpse if a stranger's face, then it was gone, like a book you open then close at once.

Sometimes a crow lands on the roof of the house. It sits there for hours and watches the girl. The woman doesn't chase the bird away.

I woke up and knew he was gone. Straightaway I knew he was gone. When you love somebody you know these things. David Almond, Skellig

To never let the other forget who they are—love is also about that.

Perhaps she was more like him than he'd thought: Her home, too, had consisted of paper and printer's ink. She probably felt as lost as he did in the real world.

Sometimes we think we know people at first sight," he said. "As though we'd met them a hundred times before, in another life, in another world. And then we realize that we know nothing. How did they look as children? What dreams startle them from their sleep?

No te preocupes por no poder hablar -solía decirle Dedo Polvoriento-. La gente no suele prestar atención.

He pressed his fist to where his heart had once beaten, and I did the same. I'm sure I looked like a total idiot, but I think we all do when we're really happy. Except for Longspee. He just looked fabulous being happy.