Quotes About Connection

Little by little I began to listen better: to the sap moving in the plants, to the blood in my veins. I learned to understand my own intention, to prune and to add, to feel where the power gathered and speak the right words to draw it to its height. That was the moment I lived for, when it all came clear at last and the spell could sing with its pure note, for me and me alone.

I had no right to claim him, I knew it. But in a solitary life, there are rare moments when another soul dips near yours, as stars once a year brush the earth. Such a constellation he was to me.

Those seconds, half seconds, that the line of our gaze connected, were the only moment in my day that I felt anything at all. The sudden swoop of my stomach, the coursing anger. I was like a fish eyeing the hook.

He paused now, considering. I loved this about him. No matter how many times I had asked, he answered me as if it were the first time.

I will never leave him. It will be this, always, for as long as he will let me. If I had had words to speak such a thing, I would have. But there were none that seemed big enough for it, to hold that swelling truth.

The heat rose up my neck, wrapped fingers over my face. His hair fell around me, and I could smell nothing but him. The grain of his lips seemed to rest a hairsbreadth from mine.

There had never been a sweeter child. He smelled like honey and just-kindled flames. ...Every moment he was with me, I felt a rushing in my throat, which was my love for him, so great sometimes I could not speak.

The poets were always correct,'' I say softly. ''You are half my soul.

and we would take pleasure in the simple mending of the world.

My fears forgotten in the golden harbour of his arms.

Achilles weeps. He craddles me, and will not eat, nor speak a word other than my name. I see his face as if through water, as a fish sees the sun. His tears fall, but I cannot wipe them away. This is my element now, the half-life of the unburied spirit.

He weeps as he lifts me into our bed. My corpse sags; it's warm in the tent, and the smell will come soon. He does not seem to care. He holds me all night long, pressing my cold hands to his mouth.

Everything was united by the steady rise and fall of nature's breath. Everything except for me.

It was as if we found the still heart of the universe. Nothing moved except for us.

And then he pressed his lips onto mine. "Live", he said. "Oh live, my life, my love, live." And that's when I'm supposed to open my eyes like a dewy fawn, and see him poised over me like the sun, and make a little gasping noise of wonder and gratitude, and then he fucks me.

His eyes were unwavering, green flecked with gold. A surety rose in me, lodged in my throat. I will never leave him. It will be this, always, for as long as he will let me.

Are you sorry?'' ''I am not.'' The answer was sure, immediate. ''I am not either.'' I could never be sorry about this, I could never regret you. I never wish to be parted from you, ever. For all my life and beyond to the end of all the world, I will never be parted from your side again.

Name one hero who was happy. You can't." He was sitting up now, leaning forward. He lifted an eyebrow. "I'll tell you a secret. I'm going to be the first." He took my palm and held it to his. "Swear it." "Why me?" "Because you're the reason. Swear it." "I swear it," I said, lost in the high color of his cheeks, the flame in his eyes. "I swear it," he echoed. We sat like that for a moment, hands touching. He grinned. "I feel like I could eat the world raw.

Less than a month we had spent together, yet he seemed to know me better than anyone who had ever walked the world.

This, and this and this. We were like gods at the dawning of the world, and our joy was so bright we could see nothing else but each other.

Me bastaba un simple roce o el olor para identificarle, y si me quedara ciego, podría reconocerle por el modo en que respiraba o en que pisaba el suelo. Le reconocería en el fin del mundo, incluso en la muerte.

Witchcraft transforms the world. He wanted only to join it.

I want-'' He stopped. Tore his fingers through his hair. ''Never mind what I want.'' His voice was quieter, now. ''What do you want?'' ''You.'' Always you.

En la oscuridad, dos figuras alargan los brazos a través de una penumbra espesa y penosa. Y cuando las manos se tocan, se derrama la luz de cien urnas doradas, por las que el sol parece salir a borbotones.