Quotes About Connection

Sometimes the best catalyst for local responsibility is actually taking pilgrimages to other local places.

What if we stopped attending community groups and became groups of communities?

You know you've read a good book when you turn to the last page and feel as little as if you have lost a friend.

Åžtii ca ai citit o carte bun? când întorci ultima pagin? ÅŸi simÅ£i c? parc? ai pierdut un prieten.

Capisci di aver letto un buon libro quando giri l'ultima pagina e ti senti come se avessi perso un amico.

You know you've read a good book when you turn the last page and feel a little as if you have lost a friend

You know you've read a good book when you turn the last page and feel a little as you have lost a friend.

You know you have read a good book when you turn the last page and feel a little as if you have lost a friend.

You know you've read a good book when you turn the last page and feel a little as if you have lost a friend." ?

A parallel system is that of the military-industrial-media complex, along with the more distant politico-media complex and prison-industrial complex.

I always found myself in the company of Australians, who were like a reminder that I'd touched bottom.

One of the sicknesses of the twentieth century? I'll tell you the worst one. People can't stand to be alone. Can't tolerate it! So they go to the movies, get drive-in hamburgers, put their home telephone numbers in the crapsheets and say 'Please call me up!' It's sick. People hate their own company --- they cry when they see themselves in mirrors. It scares them, the way their faces look. Maybe that's a clue to the whole thing...

Going slowly [...] was the best way of being reminded that there is a relationship between Here and There, and that travel narrative was the story of There and Back.

A reader meeting another reader is an encounter of kindred spirits. The pleasure of such a joyous event is impossible to describe to a nonreader, and why would I bother? But you, with this book in your hand, are familiar with the phenomenon, and so it is not necessary.

Before I left the house I put my head into the boys' bedroom. The room was cool but the children seemed to radiate warmth - their glow was in the air - and this warmth from such a small bed I associated with their good hearts. They still smelled soapily of their baths, and I kissed their warm cheeks and whispered good night. What is it in darkness that makes us whisper?

When she was done, I talked to her a little—and I was the only one.

He caught my eye, saw me staring, and waved in a neighborly way, from his own country.

I said I was a stranger here. "Ain't no strangers here, baby," she said, and gave me a merry smile.

He was eager to talk, glad to have a listener, and he didn't need prompting questions.

If he doesn't talk to me, and he doesn't walk around with me, and he doesn't travel in the same compartment,' I said, 'I don't understand why he wants to come with me.' 'To make sure you are comfortable. Hospitality. You are our guest ...

But there is a singular connection between Samuel Beckett, "the grammarian of solitude," sunk in his comical Irish gloom, hiding in a tiny apartment in Paris, and the condition of Manuel Othón, the late-nineteenth-century Mexican recluse, brooding in the parched wasteland in the middle of Mexico. Seemingly at a loss for words around 1900, Othón, in a despairing poem, wrote the Beckett-like line "the desert, the desert and the desert.

But I wondered about the noise and roistering: what had this cacophony and masquerade to do with the Day of the Dead?

Friends, we're on the same road.

the echo chamber that most expat communities become