Quotes About Connection

I knew even then, the first time that I saw you, that I loved you.

Her long body stiffened against him. Her cool fingers tightened in his shaggy fur, and her bare, clinging heels dug deep into his heaving flanks. She was sweet against him, and the clear logic of this new life conquered the dreary conventions of that old, dim existence where he had walked in bitter death.

Wanting Kate was one thing. Sex was simple. Or it could be. But liking her? Enjoying spending time with her? Allowing her into his private life, as Brody had tonight, albeit at his sisters' invitation? It would lead to nothing but trouble.

To make a good impression, all you have to do is talk to people, look them in the eye, and show them respect and love.

Love's not what makes the world go around.

First lust then love.

Because I love you, goddammit!

Dad called this the shadow time. The sun sucks colour from the world, he'd said. He'd taught her to see the softer colours of the dusk, the green and orange bark, the purple shadows. At times like this Flinty felt her edges vanish, leaving her part of the mountains, like the wallaby pulling wonga vine down from a thorn bush, or the sleepy possum peering from a tree.

Maybe everyone is crazy up in these mountains. Maybe the air up here makes you absurd, the scent of flowers and rock and snow. And I've never spoken like that to anyone in my life before. You're my only friend here, you know that? And you're fifty years away.

Jackie French

an' a daughter again,

You know every story, every wound, every memory. Their whole life's happiness is wrapped up in you... every single second. Don't you get it? Look down the road to her wedding. I'm in a room alone with her, fixing her veil, fluffing her dress, telling her no woman has ever looked so beautiful. And my fear is she'll be thinking, "I wish my mom was here.

Some men fall in love with a woman, Some women fall in love with a man, Some men fall in love with another man, Some women fall in love with another woman - But I, my dear one, fell in love with Shetland. - Shetland

Poetry in here keeps the conversation open between the living and the dead, the misunderstood and the wise, the imprisoned and the free. Koestler Voices Vol. 3

We're not alive to be alone on the planet. We're alive to share, to eat together and love together and laugh together and cry together. If you can never love because you will always lose, what reason is there to live?

As there was no saddle, Lisa said to the horse, "May I pull myself up?" And damned if the horse didn't nod.

And don't look for guarantees. There are none, not in any human relationship. We all have so many flaws that it's a wonder men and women ever get together. Or stay together. But they do, Tuck, they do.

In the beginning of time people and animals lived together on the earth and there was no difference between them. Bear, human, raven, fox, even snow and ice, all had spirit, all had soul. The air was pure and clear as crystal. Words held a magic. A word spoken in a chance, a wish or a whisper would hold a magic that would shape the world.

In summer heat he longed for her. When leaves turned, green to gold, he watched for her. As winter came, on feathered backs of redwing, fieldfare, and threaded through the call of curlew, he waited for her.

And so it seemed to her that he had always been a part of the landscape of her life, this great white bear. She brought him rosehips to sweeten his days, tried to explain how, once they had been flowers, but now were seeds. He had never seen a rose. He told her stories, coloured with every shade of white, and spoke of a sky that danced with lights. She felt that he understood how the world began, how it might end. And, even before they met, he walked in her dreams.

And it seemed to him that she has always been a part of the landscape of his dreams, though for many years he could not understand her shape, until the day they met. So he told her the stories of colours and spoke with the gentle wings of moths, and walked through the world with her by his side. He loved this red colour of rosehips, like blood, but sweeter. She loved the light of wild in his eyes, the scent of frost in his fur and the movement of wings.

She whispered into the ear of the dreaming bear. If I said that my love for you was like the spaces between the notes of a wren's song, would you understand? Would you perceive my love to be, therefore, hardly present, almost nothing?

Can they hear the stars, here where they lie in the hollow?

After a while, maybe hours, perhaps a few days, she fond herself talking to the hare. At first just comments on how bright the day was, the beauty of cherry blossom, the touch of the wind.