Best 491 quotes in «intimacy quotes» category

The body is not a fortress, no matter what we may do to make it such. This may be one of life's greatest frustrations, or is it humiliations? I spend a lot of time thinking about bodies and boundaries and how people seem hell-bent on ignoring those boundaries at all costs. I am not a hugger. I never have been and I never will be. I hug my friends, and do so happily, but I am sparing with such affections. A hug means something to me; it is an act of profound intimacy, so I try not to get too promiscuous with it. Also, I find it awkward, opening myself up, allowing people to touch, to breach my fortress. When I tell strangers I am not a hugger, some take this as a challenge, like they can hug me into submission, like they can will my aversion to hugs away by the strength of their arms. Oftentimes, they will draw me into their body, saying something condescending like, "See, it isn't that bad." I think, I never thought it was, and I stand there, my arms limply by my sides, probably grimacing, but still, they don't get the message that I am not a willing participant in this embrace. The fortress hath been breached.

The choices that women make sometimes seems provoking and at the same time amusing. I once met a lady who said she liked my amusing facial expression.

The closer he was the less confident I was.

The cosmic love experience requires a willing partner who is interested in connecting on a deeper level and not looking just to hit it, and you only hear from them again when they want sex. If he’s not in love with your soul he has to go. There's temporary and fleeting love, or there's a deeper love that spans lifetimes, it's up to you to choose what you're worthy of experiencing.

The demand to be intimate or honest with a public can be invasive when the experiences of racial others are commodified as stories or objects that might be traded as evidence of intimacy, as proof of 'being good,' for nonracial others. In this way, intimacy might act as surveillance, through which some people--women of color, for instance--must reveal themselves to bear the burden of representation ('You are here as an example') and the weight of pedagogy ('Teach us about your people'). Intimacy can be a force--especially when others set its terms and conditions. So what if you don't love the (white) girls who exhaust you, who want too much from you, who want to turn you into a commodity or a badge or an experience to share? What if you become a girl in opposition to other girls? This is also the problem with definitions of racism as ignorance, and ignorance as the absence of intimacy--which posits that intimacy is the solution to ignorance. This gives us terrible, stupid disavowals like 'I'm not racist, I have black friends,' as if intimacy is a shield that protects the wearer from harm. It limits our sense of what racism is to the scale of the interpersonal, when it is in fact this enormous constellation of forces and moving parts that structures our institutions--and so-called institutions--profoundly.

The familiar is by far the most beautiful.

The French, it seems to me, strike a happy balance between intimacy and reserve. Some of this must be helped by the language, which lends itself to graceful expression even when dealing with fairly basic subjects.... And there's that famously elegant subtitle from a classic Western. COWBOY: "Gimme a shot of red-eye." SUBTITLE: "Un Dubonnet, s'il vous plait." No wonder French was the language of diplomacy for all those years.

The glow of the steetlamps sat heavy and thick above me. As I walked aimlessly, in the direction of downtown, I returned to my theories. That Mizuko and I shared the pictorial equivalent of DNA. That a sympathetic magic existed between us, no matter how far apart we were pulled. That we defied physical laws of time and space, waves, gravity, the rules laid down by physicists which governed our physical universe (earthquakes, tsunamis) and physical bodies. And yet somehow our connection had led to the opposite of intimacy. My search had led to its opposite. I had never felt so isolated and disconnected, even from myself.

The more deeply we dive, the less we mind upsetting waves, finding within intimate relationship an increasingly compelling invitation to seek and find freedom through our shared heart, our shared body, our shared limitations, our shared boundlessness, our shared mortality, our shared yes, our shared being, our shared all... P.14

The male is the giving part of a sexual union and the female is the receptive part. Since the wombman is the receiver she must be aware of her partner’s spiritual nature before choosing to be intimate with him.

The more spiritually connected we become, the more we may intuitively sense that finding our soul mate or twin flame is not only important, but it is actually part of our life purpose. We may understand that on a deep level, our soul seeks expansion, and the best way to do that is within the loving container of a relationship.

The intimate space of your personal life should be reserved for amazing, beautiful, radiant souls — good, wholesome and loving people.

The only place Aletta and I could be together unseen was just under the rafters in the church tower, a circumstance that propelled us into an earlier intimacy than what we would have known had we been permitted to walk together Sunday afternoons under the wide sky.

The physical stage of bonding is at its most powerful when all other forms of bonding have been achieved. If this has been done, the final petals of the flower have reached full maturity and unfold, leaving no restriction for pleasure, physical or otherwise. Having learned your partner and when to push, pull away or work together in fluid unison; having learned what enthuses and delights their senses, you are prepared to carry all of this knowledge into the sweet cadence of your unity.

There’d never been anyone who could knife him so with a momentary word, and then speak the wound away in the very next moment. If all those little boyhood heartbreaks had been supposed to make him ready for this, Demane wasn’t.

The reason people fear to confide in anyone is that even an internal friend can make personal details external, and it will remain eternal.

There are people who feel they should be with you, but something is preventing them from coming close. Please can you just lower the frequency of your stern looking face and smile...and they will make you their habit.

There is a ladder to Success! Choose to climb it.

There is a magic to intimacy, a world built of sighs and skin that is thicker than brick, stronger than iron. There is only you, and him, so impossibly close that nothing can come between. Not the enemy, not your allies. In this safe haven, in this hallowed place and time, I could even ask the questions whose answers I feared.

There is intimacy during sex only when there was intimacy before it.

There is a world of difference between the experience of 'care' – the wiping of a bottom, the bathing of a body: basic biological obligations – and the intimacy that makes us want to live.

There's an intimacy in listening to somebody's lies, I've always thought--you learn more about someone from the things they wish were true than from the things that actually are.

There is no greater place for damage (than marriage) because there is no greater place for glory.

There is no medicine that can ignite the bond of love. Friendship is compulsory, love comes around when friendship ripes, and sex is a matter of choice.

There is no greater intimacy than sitting with someone traversing that tenuous boundary between worlds, sitting vigil with a spirit trembling on the border, reaching toward the new and releasing the old.

There is something intimate about playing a duet. It's touching the soul of another person without ever touching the flesh.

These are the things you don’t say, even to someone you love.

There was a real sense of comfort but at the same time it felt oddly tense. The feeling that every little things we said, these conversations, at any moment, they could stop being possible, and so they were precious, it was that feeling, and the sense of the miracle of this shared moment, here and now. Why were we so far apart, even when we are together? It was anice loneliness, like th sensation of washing your face with cold water.

The second hugely seductive move is to signal that we view the other person with a mixture of tenderness and realism. It’s often imagined that it’ll be seductive to convey an air of adoration, to hint that the other strikes us as exceptionally attractive or accomplished. But surprisingly, it is deeply worrying to be obviously adored, because everyone, from the inside, knows very well that they don’t deserve intense acclaim, are often disappointing and sometimes quite simply pitiful. So seduction involves suggesting both that one likes the other person a lot – and yet can see their frailty quite clearly, that one cope with it and forgive it with gentle indulgence. One might, towards the end of the evening drop in a small warm tease that alludes to our understanding of some less than perfect side of them: ‘I suppose you stayed under the duvet feeling a bit sorry for yourself after that?’ we might ask, with a benign smile. Such a gesture implies that we like another person not under a mistaken notion that they are flawless but with a full and unfrightened appreciation of their frailties. That ends up being powerfully seductive because it is, first and foremost, reassuring. It suggests the ideal way that we would like someone to view us within the testing conditions of a real relationship. We crave not admiration, but to be properly known and yet still liked and forgiven.

The strange thing about loneliness is that we feel it most intently when we are with people. Loneliness is the knowing in our heart that we were created to really, truly know each other in the deepest sense but we feel stuck with superficiality.

The sex, it automatically becomes amazing when you own the person, you know he is loyal and no matter what he is not going to leave you.

This sort of quiet gazing, which was like a feeding of the heart, was something I had not experienced with any other woman.

the toilet is an intimacy only shared with parents when you are young and once again when they are older and with lovers when say on a Sunday morning stretching into the bathroom you wake to the sound of stream into bowl and go to hug the naked body stood with its back to you and kiss the neck and taste the whole of the night on there and smell the morning’s pale yellow loss and take the whole of him in your hand and feel the water moving through him and knowing that this is love the prone flesh what we expel from the body and what we let inside

The truth is that the fever of desire in youth is fleeting disease that intimacy promptly cure.

This was our rhythm, our worship: give and take, gift and receive, honor and entrust. Making love to this man wasn’t just an expression of my feelings for him or a carnal, physical need—it was an offering.

. . . the walls of her vagina tightening around me as she laughed.

This is my skin. This is not your skin, yet you are still under it.

This morning could have been perfect. The cruel truth is they have never been. Give us loneliness or give us death.

To have someone understand your mind is a different kind of intimacy altogether.

Through me, I see you. Through you, I see me.

To hold the courage to let another witness our tears, while refuting fears invitation to shield face, is to grant the most privileged of all loving intimacies to them.

To feel aroused is to feel alive. Having great sex is like taking in huge lungfuls of fresh air, essential to your body, essential to your health, and essential to your life.

To vigorous men intimacy is a matter of shame--and something precious.

Tonight I will sleep in my bed Knowing she has landed Somewhere far from here But in my mind We are still sitting in that small cocktail booth My hand holding hers Our hearts connected And me Whispering In her ear: Wherever You Go, Go With all Your heart

Trust is the bedrock of intimacy; it is the ability to rely on someone because you believe that he or she has your best interest at heart.

Twice or thrice had I lov'd thee, Before I knew thy face or name

Tu ești pentru mine relația necesară. Toți ceilalți sunt întâmplători.

Usually adult males who are unable to make emotional connections with the women they chose to be intimate with are frozen in time, unable to allow themselves to love for fear that the loved one will abandon them.

Until the notion of Helmet-Assisted Life catches on with more people, you may be seen as a threat if you wear a helmet during moments of intimacy. Yet it might also be true that relaxed intimacy cannot occur unless the head is fully protected.

Usiwe na wasiwasi, Peter. Hizo ni hisia zangu tu. Huwezi kuwa mpelelezi. Lakini, kusema ule ukweli, ningependa sana kuonana na John Murphy. Kuna kazi binafsi ningependa kumpa. Wewe unatoka Afrika, hujawahi kumwona?” Debbie alizidi kumshtua Murphy. “Nani?” Murphy aliuliza huku akitabasamu. “John Murphy wa Afrika.” “Sijawahi kumwona. Mbona unamuulizia hivyo?” Debbie alitulia. Kisha akarusha nywele ili aone vizuri. “Nampenda sana!” “Kwa nini?” “Simpendi kwa mahaba, lakini.” “Ndiyo. Kwa nini?” “OK. Nampenda kwa kipaji chake. Alichopewa na Mungu, cha ujasusi. Kusaidia watu.” “Ahaa!” Murphy alidakia, sasa akifikiri sana. “Murphy ana mashabiki wengi hapa Meksiko bila yeye mwenyewe kujua, kwa sababu ya kupambana na wahalifu wa madawa ya kulevya – hasa wa huku Latino. Tatizo lake haonekani. Wengi hudhani ni hadithi tu, kwamba hakuna mtu kama huyo hapa duniani.” “Hapana! Murphy yupo! Ni mfanyabiashara maarufu huko Tanzania. Lakini ndiyo hivyo kama unavyosema ... Haonekani!