Quotes About Connection

BEING A MOTHER GIVES YOU a singular sort of vision, a prism through which you can see your child with many different faces all at once. It is the reason you can watch him shatter a ceramic lamp, and still remember him as an angel. Or hold him as he cries, but imagine his smile. Or watch him walk toward you, the size of a man, and see the dimpled skin of an infant.

She touched him and found that even something as innocent as the lacing of their fingers could raise all the hairs on the back of her neck and make her blood beat faster.

Given my mother's experience with romance, I shouldn't even care - but there's a part of me that wonders what it would be like to be the most important person to someone else, to always feel like you were missing a piece of yourself when he wasn't near you.

he glanced at the stranger in the seat beside him and tried to remember when she used to be his daughter.

These days it seemed like the words between them were there only to outline the silences.

When he smiles at me, I'm lost

I know the first person I kissed won't be nearly as important as the last person I kiss.

Maybe there are entire worlds where there are no fences, where feelings bears you like a tide.

Even if we have grown so far apart that we don't recognize each other when we pass, we have this life, this block of time, and what do you think about that?

It just goes to show you: you can put nine thousand miles between you and another person. You can make a vow to never speak his name. You can surgically remove someone from your life. And still, he'll haunt you.

If you think about someone you've loved and lost, you are already with them. The rest is just details.

Sometimes all it takes to become human again is someone who can see you that way, no matter how you present on the surface.

Having a family means you're never alone.

People always say that, when you love someone, nothing in the world matters. But that's not true, is it? You know, and I know, that when you love someone, everything in the world matters a little bit more.

So you know what mean when I say that I don't think anyone who falls in love has a choice. You're just pulled to that person like true north, whether it's good for you or bound to break your heart.

I love the way he smelled whenever his head dipped close to hear what I was saying—like the sun striking th cheek of a tomato, or soap drying in the hood of a car. I loved the way his hand felt on my spine. I loved.

My mother and Joe have a lovers' shorthand, an economy of gestures that comes when you are close enough to someone to speak their language. I wonder if my mother and father ever had that, or if my mother was always just trying to decipher him.

Se dai il tuo cuore a qualcuno e lui muore, lo porta via con sé? Devi passare il resto della vita con un buco dentro che non può essere riempito?

They sat in the companionable awkwardness caused by knowing extremely private things about each other that had never been directly confided.

How do you undo intimacy? How do you go back to being acquaintances, when the other person knows every inch and groove of you, every irrational fear, every trigger?

When we were little, Eric and Fitz and I invented a language. I've forgotten most of it, with the exception of a few words: valyango, which meant pirate; palapala, which meant rain; and ruskifer, which had no translation to English but described the dimpled bottom of a woven basket, all the reeds coming together to form one joint spot, and that we sometimes used to explain our friendship.

In life, perfect pitch is the ability to know someone from the inside out, even better maybe than she knows herself.

A real friend isn't capable of feeling sorry for you.

He swaggered over to my mother, and kissed her so long and slow that my own cheeks started to burn, because I was sure the neighbors would see. When he lifted his head, my mother's eyes were a color I had never seen before and don't think I have ever seen again.