Quotes About Connection

In the hills giant oaks Fall upon their knees You can touch parts You have no right to

The Self Is Not Portable The self is not portable. It cannot be packed. It comes sneaking back to any place from which it's been extracted, for it is nothing alone. It is not an entity. The ratio of self to home: one part in seventy.

The dead do not become stars or ghosts. in fact, they are hardly undone. Soon their randomly dispersed parts reappear one by one on foreign hosts- the beloved ear or freckled arm, separate as a milagro or bracelet charm. It is not grotesque, though odd. Even a piece does us some good. "Charms

What is love? It is not simply compassion, not simply kindness. In compassion there are two: the one who suffers and the one who feels compassion. In kindness there are two: the one who gives and the one who receives. But in love there is only one; the two join, unite, become inseparable. The I and the you vanish. To love means to lose oneself in the beloved

Ce este dragostea, fraÈ›ii mei? Nu este doar mil? È™i nici doar bun?tate. În mil? sunt doi, cel care d? È™i cel care primeÈ™te. Dar în dragoste este unul singur, cei doi se unesc È™i devin una, nu se deosebesc. Eu È™i tu dispar. Iubesc înseamn?: dispar eu.

There was something very special, but it wasn't inside Josie. It was inside those who loved her.

And so we stood together like that, at the top of that field for what seemed like ages, not saying anything, just holding each other, while the wind kept blowing and blowing at us, tugging our clothes, and for a moment, it seemed like we were holding onto each other because that was the only way to stop us from being swept away into the night.

Perhaps all humans are lonely. At least potentially.

But in the end, stories are about one person saying to another: This is the way it feels to me. Can you understand what I'm saying? Does it feel this way to you?

Mr Capaldi believed there was nothing special inside Josie that couldn't be continued. He told the Mother he'd searched and searched and found nothing like that. But I believe now he was searching in the wrong place. There was something very special, but it wasn't inside Josie. It was inside those who loved her.

And if these incidents now seem full of significance and all of a piece, it's probably because I'm looking at them in the light of what came later...

The giant, once well buried, now stirs. When soon he rises, as surely he will, the friendly bonds between us will prove as knots young girls make with the stems of small flowers.

It never occurred to me that our lives, until then so closely interwoven, could unravel and separate

What he wanted was not just to hear about Hailsham, but to remember Hailsham, just like it had been his own childhood. He knew he was close to completing and so that's what he was doing: getting me to describe things to him, so they'd really sink in, so that maybe during those sleepless nights, with the drugs and the paint and the exhaustion, the line would blur between what were my memories and what were his.

I needed to get familiar with sex, and it would be just as well to practise first with a boy I didn't care about too much. Then later on, if I was with someone special, I'd have more chance of doing everything right.

At the same time, what was becoming clear to me was the extent to which humans, in their wish to escape loneliness, made maneuvers that were very complex and hard to fathom

We were right for each other once. Whether we always will be, that's anyone's guess.

There was a time you saw me once, one afternoon, in the dormitories. There was no one else around, and I was playing this tape, this music. I was sort of dancing with my eyes closed and you saw me.' '...yes, I remember that occasion. I still think about it from time to time.' 'That's funny, so do I.

So I know just how much it matters to you that people who love one another are brought together, even after many years.

It would be the saddest thing to me, princess. To walk separately from you, when the ground will let us go as we always did.

But in the end, stories are about one person saying to another: This is the way it feels to me. Can you understand what I'm saying? Does it also feel this way to you?

But Ruth and Tommy never did anything gross in front of people, and if sometimes they cuddled or whatever, it felt like they were genuinely doing it for each other, not for an audience.

Sisters are supposed to be people you're close to, aren't they. You may not like them much, but you're still close to them.

It was his reaction when I mention I was from Hailsham. He'd just come through his third donation, it hadn't gone well, and he must have known he wan't going to make it. He could hardly breathe, but he looked towards me and said: Hailsham. I bet that was a beautiful place.