Quotes About Connection

Hearts of people are like wild beasts. They attach themselves to those who love and train them.

Socialize with people in such a manner that when you die, they should weep for you, and as long as you live, they should long for your company.

Lack of friends means, stranger in one's own country.

The source of success of a claimant is the mediator.

Cause nobody's the slightest idea who we are, or who we were, not even we ourselves - except, that is, in the glimmer of a moment of fair business between strangers, or the nod of knowing and agreement between friends. Other than these, we go out anonymous into the insect air and all we are is the dust of colour, brief engineerings of wings towards a glint of light on a blade of grass or a leaf in a summer dark.

always looking off to the side. But that's good too. It's good, to be seen past, as if you're not the only one, as if everything isn't happening just to you. Because you're not. And it isn't.

All we are is eyes looking for the unbroken or the edges where the broken bits might fit each other.

Words are themselves organisms, ...

We have to hope that the people who love us and who know us a little bit will in the end have seen us truly. In the end, not much else matters.

I wished that my own bones were unbound, I wished they were mingling, picked clean by fish, with the bones of another body, a body my bones and heart and soul had loved with unfathomable certainty for decades, and both of us down deep now, lost to everything but the fact of bare bones on a dark seabed.

What if . . . instead of saying, this border divides these places. We said, this border unites these places. This border holds together these two really interesting different places. What if we declared border crossings places where, listen, when you crossed them, you yourself became doubly possible.

beauty in its most completeness is never found in a single body but is something shared instead between more than one body.

Everywhere's a here, isn't it?

With a bit of help and a bit of luck, we get to be more than the one thing or the nothing that history'd have us be. We're only here by the grace and the work of others. I am anyway. Here's to those others who helped, that's my prayer when I go to my bed, and may I be such an other to a good many myself.

Mind and matter are mysterious and, when they come together, bounteous.

No one remembering that old man. Except, I just did, there

She had entered him like he was water. Like he was a dictionary and she was a word he hadn't known was in him. Or she had entered him more simply, like he was a door and she opened him, leaving him standing ajar as she walked straight in.

Words were stories in themselves.

If I am destined to be happy with you here Ã¢â'¬â€œ how short is the longest Life. John Keats

its small squares of fast-passing light, the early evening windows of the lives of hundreds of others.

Myself, I thought about you the whole time. Even when I wasn't thinking about you, I thought about you.

The third person is another pair of eyes. The third person is a presentiment of God. ...... a way to tell the story. It's a box for the endless music that's there between people, waiting to be played.

What if the girl says. Instead of saying, this border divides places. We said, this border holds together two really interesting different places. What if we declared border crossings places where, listen, when you crossed them, you yourself became doubly possible.

Friends are always pretty, even when they're not.