Quotes About Relationship

Those were the reasons we both knew how deep love was, the shared pain that would outlast any pain we caused each other.

Mile after mile, all of it familiar, yet not, this distance that separates us, me from my mother.

There was never the right time for me to declare we should be together for the rest of our lives when you were yelling at me that you would never sleep in the same bed as me again.

Actually, I'm hoping we might have that. A commitment through time, past, present, future... marriage.

Her mother looked pleased at the prospect of being vital to her daughter's success. Ruth sighed, relieved yet sad. Why hadn't she ever asked her mother to make drawings before? She should have done it when her mother's hand and mind were still steady. It broke her heart to see her mother trying so hard, being so conscientious, so determined to be valuable. Making her mother happy would have been easy all along. LuLing simply wanted to be essential, as a mother should be.

I am in great terror of your understanding by which you penetrate into my world; and then I stand revealed and I have shared my kingdom with you.

I stopped loving my father a long time ago. What remained was the slavery to a pattern.

She was fully, painfully aware that very rarely did midnight strike in two hearts at once, very rarely did midnight arouse two different equal desires, and that any dislocation in this, any indifference, was an indication of disunity, of the difficulties, the impossibilities of fusion between two human beings.

His entire body was pleading for reassurance, and if her whole love was not enough what else could she give him to cure his doubt?

Perhaps I should not tell him the dream. It puts me in his hands, it is giving him too much

All of my creation is an effort to weave a web of connection with the world: I am always weaving it because it was once broken.

I said, If there is an explanation of the mystery, it is this: the love between women is a refuge and an escape into harmony and narcissism in place of conflict.

The theme of the diary is always the personal, but it does not mean only a personal story: it means a personal relationship to all things and people. The personal, if it is deep enough, becomes universal, mythical, symbolic; I never generalize, intellectualise. I see, I hear, I feel. These are my primitive elements of discovery. Music, dance, poetry and painting are the channels for emotion. It is through them that experience penetrates our bloodstream.

He never treated her as a wife. He wooed her over and over again, with presents, flowers, new pleasures.

We can build a palace around us if everything is right between us.

I said to a Frenchman the other day: "I love genius," He answered: "A woman gives genius to the man she loves.

I am sure you would not understand if I told you my father is delightfully clear and selfish, tender and lying, formal and incurable. He exhausts all the loves given to him. If I did not leave his house at night to warm myself in Rango's burning hands I would die at my task, arid and barren, sapless, while my father monologues about his past, and I yawn yawn yawn...

Out of worship and out of love he would let no one light the stove for her either, as if he would be the warmth and the fire to dry and warm her feet.

This openness, which is closed again as soon as we face a partial relationship, the one who understands only one part of us, is the miraculous openess which takes place in whole love.

What can I say Rango? What can I do to prove to you that I belong to you?

Because he was so critical, so severe, so suspicious of her, she became secretive and lying. She would never say what she really thought. She was afraid of him.

She had forced the hourglass of pain to turn. They had pursued each other. They had tried to possess each other. They had been slaves of a pattern, and not of love.

Every disconnection is death.

He is a genius and yet he is too explicit. June slips between his fingers. You cannot possess without loving.