Quotes About Closeness

want to crawl inside his skin and wrap herself around his

place / To enter into the days of your togetherness.

There were few things more soothing, Jean-Guy thought, than hearing people you love talking softly in another room.

But much more often I have seen the marriage and the family grow closer, better. Everybody learns to deal, has to help, has to be honest and say it sucks. Everybody has to laugh, everybody has to feel grateful when whatever else the child can't do he can kiss the hand that brushes his hair.

Like Connor, Alex protected me -and he was the only person I let close enough to do it. Like Connor, Alex could finish my sentences before I did. But unlike Connor, for whom I had ultimately come too late, I was just in time to take care of Alex.

Have you ever really held the hand of someone you love? Not just in passing, a loose link between you—but truly clasped, with the pulses of your wrists beating together and your fingers mapping the knuckles and nails like s cartographer learning a country by heart?

Having a family means you're never alone.

My mother and Joe have a lovers' shorthand, an economy of gestures that comes when you are close enough to someone to speak their language. I wonder if my mother and father ever had that, or if my mother was always just trying to decipher him.

How do you undo intimacy? How do you go back to being acquaintances, when the other person knows every inch and groove of you, every irrational fear, every trigger?

When you let people into the inner sanctum of your life, you risk having them see the heart of you.

How could he describe how it felt when she finished his sentences, turned the mug they were sharing so that her mouth landed where his had been? How did he explain the way they could be in a locker room, or underwater, or in the piney woods of Maine, but as long as Em was with him, he was at home?

Have you ever really held the hand of someone you love? Not just in passing, a loose link between you-but truly clasped, with the pulses of your wrists beating together and your fingers mapping the knuckles and nails like a cartographer learning a country by heart?

Do you know what it's like to love someone so much, that you can't see yourself without picturing her? Or what it's like to touch someone?

He presses himself so close to me that any hurt left on the surface between us spreads thin, becomes a binding instead of a boundary

This is the internal tragedy of love. If love is successful, if our love is returned and develops into a relationship, the person we are with must turn out to be other than we imagined them to be. Love craves closeness, and closeness always brings us face to face with something other than we expected.

A true friend is a foxhole friend.

Intimacy is a gradual process. It takes time. So wait for awhile before you call people your intimate friends.

This is a serious issue: most people don't have true friends. Please search for one. It's not your wife or husband. This is just a real friend - someone who connected to you without any existing relationship, but still got your back no matter what.

A married couple never seem so married as when viewed from the back seat of a motor car, talking quietly together in the front. Polly and Marcus might have been in their bedroom already, so soft and intimate their converse sounded to me, as I sat there alertly mute behind the backs of their heads

We're a very cousiny people," Mary Harty told me. "One must tread very lightly here: Everyone is kin to everyone else.

You're my best friend, Shmuel,' he said. 'My best friend for life.

You were never a real Avery," he hissed. "You know that, don't you?" "I do," I said. "But Christ on a bike, you came close. You came damned close.

Você é o meu melhor amigo, Shmuel. Meu melhor amigo para a vida toda.

You're my best friend, Shmuel, ... My best friend for life. - The Boy In The Striped Pyjamas