Quotes About Bond

Come along, my brave one. Your wife and son want to see you.

You know how you just have to touch your child, sometimes? How you drink him in with your eyes and you could stare at him for hours and you marvel at how dear and impossibly perfect he is?

You know what you remind me of? The telegram Harpo Marx sent his brothers: No message. Harpo." That made him grin. Sarah said, "You would think it was funny." "Well? Isn't it?

Oh, a French braid," Greta said. "That's it. And then when she undid them, her hair would still be in ripples, little leftover squiggles, for hours and hours afterward." "Yes…" "Well," David said, "that's how families work, too. You think you're free of them, but you're never really free; the ripples are crimped in forever." Greta started laughing.

It came to her so clearly now: the stiff-armed reach out to her side with her palm facing backward, the confident expectation of some trusting little hand grabbing hers.

You can never take it for granted that family members will like each other.

But Willa said, "Talk what through? I'm marrying him and that's that.

But I'll do anything in my power to stop them from taking you away." She took a shuddering breath, then let her eyes fall closed. "Promise?" "Anything. As you said in Tokyo, we're meant to be together.

She pulled away, his grip no stronger than the strands of a spider web.

It didn't matter where, really. What mattered was the connection, the space formed between the two of the, a slice cut from the universe and made private and inviolable.

I love Lindsey's work. I didn't hang around with him for seven years for nothing, listening to him play guitar every single night, watching him fall asleep with his electric guitar across his chest. There were nights I had to pry the guitar off of him so he could sleep in a normal position.

There you are, sir. There's nothing more than to love and be loved.

I've met men I would trust in the mouth of hell. Byrne or Douglas. I would trust them to breathe for me, to pump my blood with their hearts. Did you love them best? Would they be the ones you'd choose? To die with? No. The one time I've felt what you describe was with a woman. A lover, you mean? said Jack. Not your own flesh and blood? I think she was my own flesh and blood. I truly believe she was.

We have lived too closely, been through too much. I will not leave you. I cannot, any more than I can leave myself.

I once asked Cortez whether he would risk his life for other men in the platoon. "I'd actually throw myself on the hand grenade for them," he said. I asked him why. "Because I actually love my brothers," he said. "I mean, it's a brotherhood. Being able to save their life so they can live, I think is rewarding. Any of them would do it for me.

As people come together to face an existential threat, Fritz found, class differences are temporarily erased, income disparities become irrelevant, race is overlooked, and individuals are assessed simply by what they are willing to do for the group.

What catastrophes seem to do—sometimes in the span of a few minutes—is turn back the clock on ten thousand years of social evolution. Self-interest gets subsumed into group interest because there is no survival outside group survival, and that creates a social bond that many people sorely miss.

What people miss presumably isn't danger or loss but the unity that these things often engender.

The only thing that makes battle psychologically tolerable is the brotherhood among soldiers.

One of God's great oversights is that dogs don't live as long as men, I thought. And that men don't move as fast as dogs.

there is no survival outside group survival, and that creates a social bond that many people sorely miss.

One of God's greatest oversights is that dogs don't live as long as man.

In combat, soldiers all but ignore differences of race, religion, and politics within their platoon.

A group needs only two things to be a tribe: a shared interest and a way to communicate.