763 Connection Quotes

Smile at each other, smile at your wife, smile at your husband, smile at your children, smile at each other - it doesn't matter who it is - and that will help you to grow up in greater love for each other.

You write in your letter something which I sometimes feel also: Sometimes I do not know how I shall pull through.

Measured objectively, what a man can wrest from Truth by passionate striving is utterly infinitesimal. But the striving frees us from the bonds of the self and makes us comrades of those who are the best and the greatest.

The physicists say that I am a mathematician, and the mathematicians say that I am a physicist. I am a completely isolated man and though everybody knows me, there are very few people who really know me.

Impart as much as you can of your spiritual being to those who are on the road with you, and accept as something precious what comes back to you from them.

In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit.

We cannot possibly let ourselves get frozen into regarding everyone we do not know as an absolute stranger.

Well, I think that a lot of times when you're working on a film, there aren't really opportunities to get to know all the people you have to work with.

Let us repeat the two crucial negative premises as established firmly by all human experience: (1) Words are not the things we are speaking about; and (2) There is no such thing as an object in absolute isolation.

Grief knits two hearts in closer bonds than happiness ever can; and common sufferings are far stronger links than common joys.

The way to any woman's heart, be she witch or Wonderwoman, princess or Pocahontas, is through her stomach.

For a heart without love is a song with no words And a tune to which no one is listening So your heart must give love and you'll find that You shine like rain on the leaves you'll be glistening.

The friend who holds your hand and says the wrong thing is made of dearer stuff than the one who stays away.

Having a good time together is the essence of lovingness and the best means of increasing it.

Wave after wave of love flooded the stage and washed over me, the beginning of the one great durable romance of my life.

Feedback is a pleasant thing. I get a lot of letters from unexpected people in unexpected places.

Baby, in a world without pity Do you think what I'm askin's too much I just want to feel you in my arms Share a little of that Human Touch.

I just draw what I think is funny, and I hope other people think it is funny, too.

Home is not where you live but where they understand you.

The novel has become a function of the fragmented society, the fragmented consciousness. Human beings are so divided, are becoming more and more divided, and more subdivided in themselves, reflecting the world, that they reach out desperately, not knowing they do it, for information about other groups inside their own country, let alone about groups in other countries. It is a blind grasping out for their own wholeness, and the novel-report is a means toward it.

I'm always astounded at the way we automatically look at what divides and separates us. We never look at what people have in common. If you see it, black and white people, both sides look to see the differences, they don't look at what they have together. Men and women, and old and young, and so on. And this is a disease of the mind, the way I see it. Because in actual fact, men and women have much more in common than they are separated.

All living things on earth are kindred.

You can fire your secretary, divorce your spouse, abandon your children. But they remain your co-authors forever.

It's like seeing someone for the first time, and you look at each other for a few seconds, and there's this kind of recognition like you both know something. Next moment the person's gone, and it's too late to do anything about it.

It is loneliness that makes the loudest noise. This is true of men as of dogs.

The kind of relatedness to the world may be noble or trivial, but even being related to the basest kind of pattern is immensely preferable to being alone.

Love is union with somebody, or something, outside oneself, under the condition of retaining the separateness and integrity of one's own self.

The man who has ceased to fear has ceased to care.

I have lived and slept in the same bed with English countesses and Prussian farm women... no woman has excited passions among women more than I have.

In the end all books are written for your friends. The problem after writing One Hundred Years of Solitude was that now I no longer know whom of the millions of readers I am writing for; this upsets and inhibits me. It's like a million eyes are looking at you and you don't really know what they think.

Be well, do good work, and keep in touch.

Ideas are refined and multiplied in the commerce of minds. In their splendor, images effect a very simple communion of souls.

For it stirs the blood in an old man's heart, And makes his pulses fly, To catch the thrill of a happy voice And the light of a pleasant eye.

But will you find me if Neil makes me a tree?

Get me Neil on the line. No, I can't hold. Have him read 'Snow Glass Apples' where nothing is what it seems.

Behind all appearances, I divine a struggling essence. I want to merge with it. I feel that behind appearances this struggling essence is also striving to merge with my heart. But the body stands between us and separates us. The mind stands between us and separates us.

Look upon men and pity them. Look at yourself amid all men and pity yourself. In the obscure dusk of life we touch and fumble at each other, we ask questions, we listen, we shout for help.

Every man has his own circle composed of trees, animals, men, ideas, and he is in duty bound to save this circle. He, and no one else. If he does not save it, he cannot be saved. These are the labors each man is given and is in duty bound to complete before he dies. He may not otherwise be saved. For his own soul is scattered and enslaved in these things about him, in trees, in animals, in men, in ideas, and it is his own soul he saves by completing these labors.

I felt that human partitions - bodies, brains, and souls - were capable of being demolished, and that humanity might return again, after frightfully bloody wandering, to its primeval, divine oneness. In this condition, there is no such thing as 'me', 'you', and 'he'; everything is a unity and this unity is a profound mystic intoxication in which death loses its scythe and ceases to exist. Separately, we die one by one, but all together we are immortal. Like prodigal sons, after so much hunger, thirst, and rebellion, we spread our arms and embrace our two parents: heaven and earth.

But I hope that in the lives of [the characters], you will find stories worth holding in your memory, perhaps even in your heart. That's the transaction that counts more than best-seller lists, royalty statements, awards, or reviews. Because in the pages of this book, you and I will meet one-on-one, my mind and yours, and you will enter a world of my making and dwell there, not as a character that I control, but as a person with a mind of your own. You will make of my story what you need it to be, if you can. I hope my tale is true enough and flexible enough that you can make it into a world worth living in.

Do you like her? I think that I understood that she didn't want to be liked. As if she were a visitor who expected to go back home any day.

He would go to minister the girl ... For in her brilliance, her isolation, her pain, her guilt, he saw his own stolen childhood and the seeds of pain that lived with him still.

In all [my] life, you are the first person [I've] known that wasn't [myself]. [I] never had to be understanding because [I] always understood.

Are you ready to reveal yourself to the rest of humanity? I've always been ready. The question is, are they ready to know me?

Is it possible she had lost her soul inside his?

Part of you but also not-you. Other. Outside but inside. Bound to you but free. It couldn't control you and you couldn't control it.

They would not meet, but they would pass close to each other. She would notice him or not. He would speak to her or not. She still loved and needed him. Or not.

'I'm not in love with [her] because she's the most beautiful young woman [here] and therefore quite possibly in the entire world. I'm in love with her because we can talk together, because of the way she thinks, the sound of her voice, the way she cocks her head to listen to an idea that she doesn't agree with, the way she rests her hand on mine when she's trying to persuade me.

He saw them with such better understanding that they took on power and meaning beyond anything in his experience before.

Most men were like this - relatively unconnected, unbound, alone. But these men were particularly untrusting and ungiving, and so the bonds that held them to each other was fragile indeed. It was not love at all, really, but rather a yearning for the honor and respect of the other men that held them. Pride, then... Indeed, all their connection with each other at this moment was tied up with the respect they felt they were earning by their actions.

She never finished the sentence, because at that moment [he] began to learn how to kiss a woman, and she, though she had never kissed a man before, became his tutor.

Don't you know... That I love you? Don't you know that I don't want to live without you?

What is this thing between women, like men are a joke that woman all told each other long ago but men never get it.

Hello, I'm a multimillionaire who is pathologically lonely and so filled with pent-up longings that you have only to think of a desire and I'll satisfy it. Mind if I come in?

It was the first time he had actually enjoyed the company of a woman as a woman. It was possible. That's what this evening meant. There was hope for him to find someone. There really were interesting women out there and there were even some who might find him interesting, not for his money, but for his conversation, his company. He refused to be disappointed that this particular encounter hadn't lead anywhere.

I look at these kids, you know, and I could be their mother, their mistress, their older woman. Some of the kids at the concerts are 15.

When we get together during our noontime visit ...

I was alone, only 'til you took me away. ~ 'Black'

And I was waiting over here for life to begin, I was looking for the new thing And you were the sunshine heading my front line. I was alone you, were just around the corner from me. ~ 'Life On A Chain'

And you have stayed, A mile away from me, And you will stay a mile away from me. If you know what's good for you, You could have stayed until June. ~ 'June'

And you think you know that they'll always be there. You never had the time. I want you to be fine. ~ 'Burrito'

I want you. I know you tried to find. ~ 'Farmer Vs. River'

Take my hand, come with me. I see the lights so brightly. And we fall as if we never really mattered. ~ 'Crystal Village'

You and I, we're two of a kind, I hate to say it but you'll never relate, what makes you tick? It makes me smile. ~ 'Just Another'

And even if. I don't know what the day will bring. Still I can tell most anything. To a girl like you. ~ 'A Girl Like You'

In the words of Marcel Proust - and this applies to any woman in the world - if you can stay up and listen with a fair degree of attention to whatever garbage, no matter how stupid it is that they're coming out with, til ten minutes past four in the morning... you're in.

You can't get that feeling anywhere else. It's communion. It's like being washed away in the ocean, carried aloft on a wave.

I knew she wasn't English For she spoke it far too well The grammar was goodly and the verbs as they should be Her slang was bang on the bell But as the language barrier clanged and banged I could not here: hear nor see London, England and Bow Crumble into the sea.

The time I like is the rush hour, cos I like the rush The pushing of the people - I like it all so much Such a mass of motion - do not know where it goes I move with the movement and... I have the touch .

I'm waiting for ignition, I'm looking for a spark Any chance collision and I light up in the dark There you stand before me, all that fur and all that hair Oh, do I dare... I have the touch.

Wanting contact I'm wanting contact I'm wanting contact with you.

I need contact Nothing seems to please I need contact.

Love I get so lost, sometimes days pass and this emptiness fills my heart when I want to run away I drive off in my car but whichever way I go I come back to the place you are.

What I carry in my heart Brings us so close or so far apart Only love can make love.

We could have no communication whatever with our surroundings if they were absolutely foreign to us. Man is reaping success every day, and that shows there is a rational connection between him and nature, for we never can make anything our own except that which is truly related to us.

Yes, I do. It's time to HOOK UP MY SPACE!

Though Seas and Land betwixt us both, Our Faith and Troth, Like separated soules, All time and space controules: Above the highest sphere wee meet Unseene, unknowne, and greet as Angels greet.

Along with the loss of the sense of self has gone a loss of our language for communicating deeply personal meanings to each other. This is one important side of the loneliness now experienced by people in the Western world.

Sex can be defined fairly adequately in physiological terms as consisting of the building up of bodily tensions and their release. Eros, in contrast, is the experiencing of the personal intentions and meaning of the act. Whereas sex is a rhythm of stimulus and response, eros is a state of being. The pleasure of sex is described by Freud and others as the reduction of tension; in eros, on the contrary, we wish not to be released from the excitement but rather to hang on to it, to bask in it, and even to increase it. The end toward which sex points is gratification and relaxation, whereas eros is a desiring, longing, a forever reaching out, seeking to expand.

I love hugging myself; I love human contact.

If I can touch one person, I have done my job.

'I like Steve's style because his style is my style.'

In my new house there's a switch on the wall that doesn't do anything, so for fun I'd just flick it up and down, over and over. Then one day I got a letter from a woman in Germany. It just said, 'Cut it out.'

Come out into the universe of Light. Everything in the universe is yours, stretch out your arms and embrace it with love. If you every felt you wanted to do that, you have felt God.

When I meet people in different parts of the world, I am always reminded that we are all basically alike: we are all human beings. Maybe we have different clothes, our skin is of a different colour, or we speak different languages. That is on the surface. But basically, we are the same human beings. That is what binds us to each other. That is what makes it possible for us to understand each other and to develop friendship and closeness.

Today, we are truly a global family. What happens in one part of the world may affect us all. This, of course, is not only true of the negative things that happen, but is equally valid for the positive developments. We not only know what happens elsewhere, thanks to the extraordinary modern communications technology. We are also directly affected by events that occur far away.

It's alright if you love me, it's alright if you don't. I'm not afraid of you runnin' away, honey I get the feeling you won't.

There is no sense in pretending, your eyes give you away. Something inside you is feeling like I do, we've said all there is to say.

'Cause it can feel like perfection, but never all the time. But you don't wanna be alone again.

I don't wanna end up in a room all alone. Don't want to end up someone I don't even know.

But let me get to the point, let's roll another joint. And turn the radio loud, I'm too alone to be proud. You don't know how it feels, you don't know how it feels to be me.

It's a smile a girl could bring home to mother, if she had a mother; a smile a girl could pet like a pony, sip like a lemonade, hum like a popular tune; a smile a girl would feel safe with in a dark alley.