Quotes About Connection

We stood facing each other, but it seemed absurd to shake hands, so we just smiled, like two strangers who had collided by accident.

When clients tell me how much they suffered from the actions of family members, my first question to their conscious mind is, "If you had not been exposed to this person as a child, what would you now lack in understanding?" It may take a while, but the answer is in our minds. There are spiritual reasons for our being raised as children around certain kinds of people, just as other people are designated to be near us as adults.

Dr. N: How do you manage to hold each other with no bodies? S: (with a sigh of exasperation at me) We envelop each other in light, of course. Dr. N: Tell me what that is like for spirits? S: Like being wrapped in a bright-light blanket of love.

If our soul reflects a small portion of the oversoul we call God, then our guides provide the mirror by which we are able to see ourselves connected to this creator.

Reaching our soul is the first step on the ladder of finding our higher power.

There are many things in life that will catch your eye, but only a few will catch your heart. Pursue these.

The specific way that you spend on other people isn't nearly as important as the fact that you spend on other people.

Intercourse is the organic expression of two psyches, not a mechanical plugging in.

The computer is your passport, not only to the future but to knowing what's going around you.

Words are gold, split and shared as coinage, small pebbles, emblems offered back and forth-given, received; given, received-expanding the vocabulary of the soul

I was able to give them a little candy and a little hope, but they were able to fill me up with so much more.

to see a thing completely is to set it in relation with the universe.

cannot associate with one another without creating a moral relationship.

I believe this. When we meet those we fall in love with, there is an aspect of our spirit that is historian, a bit of a pedant who reminisces or remembers a meeting when the other has passed by innocently…but all parts of the body must be ready for the other, all atoms must jump in one direction for desire to occur.

She entered the story knowing she would emerge from it feeling she had been immersed in the lives of others, in plots that stretched back twenty years, her body full of sentences and moments, as if awaking from sleep with a heaviness caused by unremembered dreams.

I'll be looking at the moon, but I'll be seeing you.

A love story is not about those who lost their heart but about those who find that sullen inhabitant who, when it is stumbled upon, means the body can fool no one, can fool nothing—not the wisdom of sleep or the habit of social graces. It is a consuming of oneself and the past.

A postcard. Neat handwriting fills the rectangle. Half my days I cannot bear to touch you. The rest of my time I feel like it doesn't matter if I will ever see you again. It isn't the morality, it's how much you can bear. No date. No name attached.

He knows that the only way he can accept losing her is if he can continue to hold her or be held by her. If they can somehow nurse each other out of this. Not with a wall.

We all cast our own shadows and chose where they fall, and the lives of men and women and otters and dogs and whales are linked forever across the reaches of time. We distance ourselves from them with our hunger for flesh, or our carelessness, or our cruelty. But what of the forces that bind us together?

We talk for maybe ten minutes, perfunctory talk in a way that we're never really perfunctory, all skirting the question of us, and I begin to wonder if she had caller ID whether she'd picked up at all.

I listen to the line as it disconnects, to the last wave of electricity as it pulses from Maine to the Hoosier State, from her to me, and then wait for the thick silence that flows behind it.

Sara and I still find a way to talk for hours on the phone, or within the span of ten minutes somehow make it feel like it's been hours. Early in our relationship, when we lived apart for a time, we'd talk every night on the phone.

Those phone calls, those millions of words and stories, merely became the beginning of the Book of Us.