Quotes About Connection

Reading - the best state yet to keep absolute loneliness at bay.

Let your love flow out on all living things.

If I am no longer able to function with you, it is, you understand, due to no lack of virility but because almost everything about you, especially your body, leaves me totally without sensation... I

I did not weep for the six million Jews or the two million Poles or the one million Serbs or the five million Russians -- I was unprepared to weep for all humanity -- but I did weep for these others who in one way or another had become dear to me, and my sobs made an unashamed racket across the abandoned beach

the secret to listening to others is to listen to ourselves first?

A human being," Einstein once wrote, "is part of the whole called by us 'Universe,' a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something separated from the rest, a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness . . .

Feelings of dissatisfaction are the language that your needs use to communicate with you.

You can empathize without sympathizing.

He drew a circle that shut me out— Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout. But love and I had the wit to win: We drew a circle that took him in! —EDWIN MARKHAM

bring himself to leave her, even when

No. My family lived back in Ohio. Still does, I reckon. I ain't seen 'em since I was twelve.

Nature never did betray The heart that loved her.

Come forth into the light of things, Let Nature be your teacher.

I wanted to know her the way a bee wants to know a great bright flower.

you love your people but you don't understand them. They find God in each other. And when they lose each other, they lose God and they're lost. And it's hard to help them

They had buried him under our elm tree, they said -- yet this was not totally true. For he really lay buried in my heart.

There standing with its hard firmness beneath her feet, her head and face bared to the wind that swept up from the deep valley below and broke in torrents against this ledge, she regained an inner quiet, a stillness she could not name or identify. It was as essential to her existence, however--had been even when she was still a child--as water or food itself.

She folded her arms around her stomach: how precious she seemed to herself, carrying another life, and one that was part his; carrying another design of nose and eyes and mouth, fingers and toes and tiny bones, all within herself.

On hearing this remark, my heart jumped clear up in my throat.. I thought surely it was going to hop right out on the depot platform. I looked up and tried to tell him who I was, but something went wrong. When the words finally came out they sounded like the squeaky old pulley on our well when Mama drew up a bucket of water.

I know it is still there, hiding its secret beneath those long, red leaves, but it wouldn't be hidden from me for part of my life is buried there, too.

I know it is still there, hiding its secret beneath those long, red leaves, but it woukdn't be hidden from me for part of my life is buried there, too.

Where the Red Fern Grows taps into the wellspring that runs deep in all of us as we fall in step with a boy and his dogs and, piece by piece, our own stories unfold.

laid his head in my hand. I almost cried at what I saw. His coat was dirty and mud-caked. His skin was

Thanks to Sven, I was being prepared to understand a congregation as a gathering of people that requires a context as large as the Bible itself if we are to deal with the ambiguities of life in the actual circumstances in which people live them….For me, my congregation would become a work-in-progress—a novel in which everyone and everything is connected in a salvation story in which Jesus has the last word. No reductions to stereotype.