Quotes About Connection

I have nothing but a book, Nothing but that to prove your blood and mine.

To A Squirrel At Kyle-Na-No Come play with me; Why should you run Through the shaking tree As though I'd a gun To strike you dead? When all I would do Is to scratch your head And let you go.

I sigh that kiss you, For I must own That I shall miss you When you have grown.

our souls are love, and a continual farewell

I cast my heart into my rhymes, That you, in the dim coming times, May know how my heart went with them

Round these men stories tended to group themselves, sometimes deserting more ancient heroes for the purpose. Round poets have they gathered especially, for poetry in Ireland has always been mysteriously connected with magic.

Nothing that we love over-much Is ponderable to our touch.

I believe that all men, black, brown, and white, are brothers.

You shall love your crooked neighbor with you crooked heart.

I'll love you, dear, I'll love you Till China and Africa meet, And the river jumps over the mountain And the salmon sing in the street

We must love one another or die

A real book is not one that we read, but one that reads us.

And none will hear the postman's knock Without a quickening of the heart. For who can bear to feel himself forgotten?

To make one, there must be two.

Shall memory restore The steps and the shore, The face and the meeting place;

Some thirty inches from my nose The frontier of my Person goes, And all the untilled air between Is private pagus or demesne. Stranger, unless with bedroom eyes I beckon you to fraternize, Beware of rudely crossing it: I have no gun, but I can spit.

He presses my hand and he says he loves me, Which I find an admirable peculiarity.

What living occasion can, Be just to the absent?

The underlying reason for writing is to bridge the gulf between one person and another.

Here am I, Here are you: but what does it mean? What are we going to do?

Only as I am, can I love you as you are

Our whisper woke no clocks, We kissed and I was glad At everything you did, Indifferent to those Who sat with hostile eyes In pairs on every bed, Arms round each other's neck, Inert and vaguely sad.

Lovers running each to each Feel such timid dreams catch fire Blazing as they touch, Learn what love alone can teach: Happy on a tousled bed Praise Blake's acumen who said: 'One thing only we require Of each other; we must see In another's lineaments Gratified desire'; That is our humanity; Nothing else contents.

Because I love you more than I can say, If I could tell you I would let you know.