Quotes About Connection

My meditations and reveries are never more delightful than when I forget myself. I feel ecstasies and inexpressible delight when I melt, so to speak, into the system of beings and identify myself with the whole of nature.

All these words, written so long ago, seemed to say to her, Remember us. We were here. We were real.

Lina laughed. So did Doon. A look went between them, like a quick current of electricity

He found his aunt in the kitchen, and he grabbed her by the waist of her pants

You're just going to bear witness to his life. I think sometimes that's the greatest gift we can give one another.

Horses were never wrong. They always did what they did for a reason, and it was up to you to figure it out.

I wondered if the fire had been out to get me. I wondered if all fire was related, like Dad said all humans were related, if the fire that had burned me that day while I cooked hot dogs was somehow connected o the fire I had flushed down the toilet and the fire burning at the hotel. I didn't have the answers to those questions, but what I did know was that I lived in a world that at any moment could erupt into fire. It was the sort of knowledge that kept you on your toes.

sometimes after I finished a particularly good book, I had the urge to get the library card, find out who else had read the book, and track them down to talk about it

To all families who, despite their scars, still find a way to love.

We raised our glasses. I could almost hear Dad chuckling at Mom's comment in the way he always did when he was truly enjoying something. It had grown dark outside. A wind picked up, rattling the windows, and the candle flames suddenly shifted, dancing along the border between turbulence and order.

Marriage] made the hard moments easier and the good moments better.

I'd never met a man I would rather spend time with. I loved him for all sorts of reasons: He cooked without recipes; he wrote nonsense poems for his nieces; his large, warm family had accepted me as one of their own.

I wondered if the fire had been out to get me. I wondered if all fire was related, like Dad said all humans were related, if the fire that had burned me that day while I cooked hot dogs was somehow connected to the fire I had flushed down the toilet and the fire burning at the hotel. I didn't have the answers to those questions, but what I did know was that I lived in a world that that at any moment could erupt into fire. It was the sort of knowledge that kept you on your toes.

I'd never met a man I would rather spend time with. I loved him for all sorts of reasons: He cooked without recipes;

I like such kisses. They fill the mouth and leave the body free. To kiss well one must kiss solely. No groping hands or stammering hearts. The lips and the lips alone are the pleasure. Passion is sweeter split strand by strand. Divided and re-divided like mercury then gathered up only at the last moment.

J'étais bien. Je regardais les miens. Je pouvais sentir battre leur cÅ"ur et respirer leur souffle. Auprès d'eux je me sentais en paix. J'avais le sentiment qu'ils protégeaient ma vie, tous les trois à leur façon. Je voulais qu'ils sachent à quel point je les aimais.

Il était infiniment facile d'aimer une femme pareille, de partager ses réveils, de se coucher près d'elle et de ressentir que ce seul moment magique signait la fin de l'Âge sombre.

Why, an old, mangy dog, warming himself at the hearth, and struggling to his feet with a little whimper to welcome his master home—why, that dog has more memories than I! At least he recognizes his master. His master. But what can I call mine?

You must be like me; you must suffer in rhythm.

It answers the question that was tormenting you: my love, you are not 'one thing in my life' - not even the most important - because my life no longer belongs to me because...you are always me.

You know, it's quite a job starting to love somebody. You have to have energy, generosity, blindness. There is even a moment, in the very beginning, when you have to jump across a precipice: if you think about it you don't do it.

The aim of language...is to communicate...to impart to others the results one has obtained...As I talk, I reveal the situation...I reveal it to myself and to others in order to change it.

I've dropped out of their hearts like a little sparrow fallen from its nest. So gather me up, dear, fold me to your heart – and you'll see how nice I can be.

He loves me, he doesn't love my bowels, if they showed him my appendix in a glass he wouldn't recognize it, he's always feeling me, but if they put the glass in his hands he wouldn't touch it, he wouldn't think, that's hers, you ought to love all of somebody, the esophagus, the liver, the intestines. Maybe we don't love them because we aren't used to them, but if we saw them the way we saw our hands and arms maybe we'd love them; the starfish must love each other better than we do.