Sentimental Connection Quotes

He had an affectionate heart. He must love somebody.

In memory, you can access something from the past, anything that you've experienced that you remember - it's there. Now, you might have a memento of it in a photograph or in a film or a building or some clothes that you wore. There might be something that connects you to this memory. But all of us are just all caught in this time, whatever that is.

There is a chord in every heart that has a sigh in it if touched aright.

A woman's love is like the morning dew. It's just as likely to settle on a horse turd as a rose.

One has the impression that something is stirring inside [photographs] - it is as if one can hear little cries of despair, gémissements de désespoir... as if the photographs themselves had a memory and were remembering us and how we, the surviving, and those who preceded us, once were.

The emotion of love gives all of us a misleading illusion of knowing the other.

[Memory] is a passion no less powerful or pervasive than love. It is [the ability] to live in more than one world, to prevent the past from fading, and to call upon the future to illuminate it.

But during all these years I had a vague but persistent desire to return to New Orleans. I never forgot New Orleans. And when we were in tropical places and places of those flowers and trees that grow in Louisiana, I would think of it acutely and I would feel for my home the only glimmer of desire I felt for anything outside my endless pursuit of art.

The past beats inside me like a second heart.

It is more than twenty years since we left the city. This is a serious chunk of time, longer than the years we spent living there. Yet we still think of Jerusalem as our home. Not home in the sense of the place that you conduct your daily life or constantly return to. In fact, Jerusalem is our home almost against our wills. It is our home because it defines us, whether we like it or not.

You love somebody, and then you don't love them anymore. But if you really love somebody, you always love them, don't you? Isn't there always some small part of you that reads their horoscope in the paper everyday?

...you can hate a place with all your heart and soul and still be homesick for it.

and yet I feel that the most real home I'll ever have is the space where our roads merged and traveled along together... for a time.

It's weird, when I go back to San Francisco, the few times that I've done shows there since leaving, it still feels like I live there. It's very, very strange for me. That's where my daughter was born, at UCSF. I have this huge attachment to San Francisco. It's like a love affair.

I mean, it's not surprising, really. Once you love something, you always love it in some way. You have to. It's, like, part of you for good.

We don't love a woman for what she says, we like what she says because we love her.

You get attached to places, you know. Like people, I suppose.

no person will ever get into my blood as a place can ... People and things pass away, but not places.

I've seen you, beauty, and you belong to me now, whoever you are waiting for and if I never see you again, I thought. You belong to me and all Paris belongs to me and I belong to this notebook and this pencil.

Why is my needle stuck in childhood? I don't know why. I guess it's because that's where my heart is.

Sometimes one word can recall a whole span of life.

we all carry the Houses of our Youth inside, and our Parents, too, grown small enough to fit within our Hearts.

I know it can't be the same between us, but that doesn't change the way I felt about you then.

Let the wealth of remembrances past be the link of friendship treasured.

How that name comes up. Mixing memory and desire