Quotes About Closeness

Dexter had been led to believe, by TV, by films, that the only up-side of sickness was that it brought people closer, that there would be an opening-up, an effortless understanding between them. But they have always been close, always been open, and their habitual understanding has instead been replaced by bitterness, resentment, a rage on both their parts at what is happening.

Yet there seemed to be no easy correlation between the awful grief I felt at her death and our closeness – or lack of it – in life, and it occurred to me that perhaps grief is as much regret for what we have never had as sorrow for what we have lost.

We don't fear physical closeness because we fear proximity itself. Most of us earnestly want physical contact with those who love us. Rather we fear what we will feel when we get too close. The real fear, then, is of ourselves. This fear is not something to rebuke ourselves for. It is our deepest vulnerability, the very quality that makes us most lovable.

If it got any closer, I don't know if I could ever let you go. The most beautiful can be the most hazardous, the most vicious.

To consciously become close is a courageous form of unilateral disarmament, a chancing of our arm and our love, a willingness to hazard our affections and an unconscious declaration that we might be equal to the inevitable loss that the vulnerability of being close will bring.

Children are angels in exile, so close to God. They haven't had time to separate from Him. Ali

religion was as intimate as lovemaking and ought to be as private.

We had lain together, skin on skin, been as close as two people could, and he was a stranger. He was that someone who you are afraid of as a child, stranger. They never told you that stranger might be someone you knew.

You knew me. You KNOW me. I can't imagine my life without you, without someone who knows me that well.

Inside marriage, those feelings are pure. God wouldn't order us to be fruitful and multiply if He didn't want us to share intimacy. It fosters a special closeness.

I am very close to HIM, sometimes I think I am HIM, with my mood is the weather, bright and sunny forever.

They spent their time doing nothing... they let intimacy fuse them.

They kept nothing of import from each other, but Lydia liked having a sacred cupboard within herself, to which only she was allowed access.

Some things you can be so close to that you never grasp their true nature.

I have not lost faith in God. I have moments of anger and protest. Sometimes I've been closer to him for that reason.

Here is another thing I like about a good friendship, the go-aheadness of it all. You don't have to knock to come in the door. You don't have to ask to look in a refrigerator. You want coffee? Pour some. These friendships, formed by time, are getting so rare. I worry about that. "How

Everyday, every hour, I have held you close in my heart.

By prolonged and continued fellowship, the sheep who follow nearby enjoy the shepherd's presence and become his familiar companions. To those closest to him, he shares the choicest portions of the food he's gathered. These happy and content sheep are never in danger. Why? Because they are near the shepherd!

Marriage is those two thousand indistinguishable conversations, chatted over two thousand indistuinguishable breakfasts, where intimacy turns like a slow wheel. How do you measure the worth of becoming that familiar to somebody—so utterly well known and so thoroughly ever-present that you become an almost invisible necessity, like air?

I have always responded with breathless excitement to anyone who has ever said that God does not live in a dogmatic scripture or in a distant throne in the sky, but instead abides very close to us indeed - much closer than we imagine, breathing right through our own hearts. I respond with gratitude to anyone who has ever voyaged to the center of that heart, and who has then returned to the world with a report for the rest of us that God is an experience of supreme love.

They loved each other, she realized. They loved each other, because they knew each other.

What all couples have ever wanted, a little bit of privacy in which to practice all manners of love.

but I knew about him and I loved him dearly from a respectful distance...

Marriage is those two thousand indistinguishable conversations, chatted over two thousand indistinguishable breakfasts, where intimacy turns like a slow wheel. How do you measure the worth of becoming that familiar to somebody—so utterly well known and so thoroughly ever-present that you become an almost invisible necessity, like air?