Quotes About Connection

Something about him made her watch him, his big hands held out to receive the falling drops, alms of heaven, catching them in his mouth, smiling as they streamed down his face, his chin, his cheeks. Her heart sent her one way. Her feet sent her another, splashing across the street to his side.

A bicycle is a friend in a way that an automobile can never be. A car can be a lover: sophisticated, complex, temperamental, but one wrong step and the affair is over. The bicycle is simple, undemanding, faithful, but as with any friendship, you must work at it, maintain it, repair it where necessary, spend time with it, get to know its character.

onward he went, a named thing, rooted in the universe, yet apart from it, through the night and the rain-dancing streets.

My name is Kilimanjaro West," he said, and something in the way he spoke that name made the crowded 'lectrovan fall electrically quiet. "Pleased to meet you all.

Grandfather was a tree

Lo único bonito de la Luna son las personas.

All written art is an attempt to communicate what it is to feel.

She wished she had Benji Dog back. At least he would have been something to talk to. No famulus. She felt very naked, as if she had slipped through the sustaining fingers of the Compassionate Society and had not been missed.

A story was a form of telepathy. By means of inking symbols onto a page, she was able to send thoughts and feelings from her mind to her reader's. It was a magical process, so commonplace that no one stopped to wonder at it.

It wasn't only wickedness and scheming that made people unhappy, it was confusion and misunderstanding; above all, it was the failure to grasp the simple truth that other people are as real as you.

falling in love could be achieved in a single word—a glance.

Find you, love you, marry you, and live without shame.

A story was a form of telepathy. By means of inking symbols onto a page, she was able to send thoughts and feelings from her mind to her reader's. It was a magical process, so commonplace that no one stopped to wonder at it.

I've never had a moment's doubt. I love you. I believe in you completely. You are my dearest one. My reason for life. Cee

There did not have to be a moral. She need only show separate minds, as alive as her own, struggling with the idea that other minds were equally alive. It wasn't only wickedness and scheming that made people unhappy, it was confusion and misunderstanding, above all, it was the failure to grasp the simple truth that other people are as real as you. And only in a story could you enter these different minds and show how they had an equal value. That was the only moral a story need have.

He knew these last lines by heart and mouthed them now in the darkness. My reason for life. Not living, but life. That was the touch. And she was his reason for life, and why he must survive.

WOLF BROTHER is the kind of story you dream of reading and all to rarely find.

muted 'thanks' as the person moved away. 'It

Infra-red connection,' he explained. 'Gets us on-line in a hurry.

Wars were connected by arms manufacturers, the same arms manufacturers who made the guns used in robberies, who made the guns used by crazy people in America when they when on the rampage in a shopping centre or hamburger restaurant. So already you had connection between hamburgers and dictators. Start from there and the thing just grew and grew.

means they'll mostly be Glasgow – and you

As time's gone on, I've probably become a lot more like him (John Rebus): I drink at his bar and I like to be one on one with my music late at night.

Unless you are genuinely interested in working with someone, don't. It doesn't matter how big an expert they are, or how much grant money the project would bring in. Stay away from things that do not interest you.

PROLOGUE Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet, Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God's great Judgment Seat; But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth, When two strong men stand face to face, tho' they come from the ends of the earth! —RUDYARD KIPLING, The Ballad of East and West