Quotes About Relationship

My meeting with my alimentatore was at noon

I think that's one of the most difficult things in any marriage - in order to build anything, you must be together. You can't build anything over the telephone.

He needed her to understand. He needed her to believe his words. "There's a difference between control and desire. Between respect and using. You need to know how special you are. How beautiful. And if any man doesn't make you feel that, he doesn't deserve you.

Here in his arms was the girl who had lived in the house near the Varosliget, the young dancer who had loved Sandor Goldstein, the woman who loved him now. He could almost see insider her that unnameable thing that had remained the same through all of it: her I, her very life. It seemed so small, a mustard seed with one rootlet shit deep into the earth, strong and fragile at once. But it was all there needed to be. It was everything. She had given it to him, and now he held it in his hands.

with her husband as she

Every romantic movie with a grocery shopping scene had to have a baguette sticking out of the bag. And a bundle of flowers.

Marriage could be a partnership, not a life sentence where the woman's identify is ripped away the first day.

A big, complicated, fast marriage like ours is just like those big fast delicate motors—it's 25% of the time in the shop.

I wish I had an ex-wife like you in every department; over in the Fellowship Office, the formerly benevolent Carole continues to maintain an icy distance. I should think her decision to quit our relationship would have filled her with a cheerful burst of self-esteem, but she apparently views the end of our three years together in a different light.)

There is no way to teach someone, I thought, who doesn't like or respect you enough to learn.

We have often been attracted to the story of the other, the outcast. And he and I just loved working together, so it just kept happening, and our relationship is completely bound up with our work. We enjoy each other's art.

Things we could not tell each other with the width of the Atlantic between us we communicated from heart to heart in those imaginary conversations.

Hysteria involves a relationship — one cannot be a hysteric on one's own. It always engages the other, inducing a reciprocity or a refusal. If the other refuses to participate in the free flow of mutual identification (the folie a deux), then the hysteric demands to be a spectacle only something one can look at or observe.

Consumption is a social relationship, the dominant relationship in our society—one that makes it harder and harder for people to hold together, to create community.

Sé todo eso, pero para amar no es necesario el matrimonio. Tampoco es necesario estar siempre juntos. El verdadero amor lo soporta todo: el alejamiento, las separaciones, la soledad e incluso la muerte.

nos queríamos en una dialéctica de imán y limadura, de ataque y defensa, de pelota y pared.

All I have to do is to look at you to know that with you, I am going to soak my soul

Menos mal que ni vos ni yo somos cursis, porque de aquí salía uno muerto y el otro con las esposas puestas.

No estábamos enamorados, hacíamos el amor con un virtuosismo desapegado y crítico, pero después caíamos en silencios terribles y la espuma de los vasos de cerveza se iba poniendo como estopa, se entibiaba y contraía mientras nos mirábamos y sentíamos que eso era el tiempo.

La besaron tanto entre Inés y su madre que le quedó la cara como caminada, blanda y oliendo a rouge y polvo rachel de Coty, húmeda alrededor de la boca, un asco que el viento le sacó de un manotazo.

Total parcial: te quiero. Total general: te amo.

Merecerías a alguien más dotado que yo para que te diera la réplica, entonces se vería alzarse a la pareja perfecta, con el hedor exquisito del hombre y la mujer que se destrozan mirándose en los ojos para asegurarse el aplazamiento más precario, para sobrevivir todavía y volver a empezar y perseguir inagotablemente su verdad de terreno baldío y fondo de cacerola.

Nunca habían hablado con esa voz, nunca se habían callado así.

La Maga se peinaba, se despeinaba, se volvía a peinar. Pensaba en Rocamadour, cantaba algo de Hugo Wolf (mal), me besaba, me preguntaba por el peinado, se ponía a dibujar en un papelito amarillo, y todo eso era ella indisolublemente mientras yo ahí, en una cama deliberadamente sucia, bebiendo una cerveza deliberadamente tibia, era siempre yo y mi vida, yo con mi vida frente a la vida de los otros.