Francesca Lia Block Quotes

I said, “I just want to know you and then disappear.” She said, “Knowing me does not mean dying.

Suddenly, as rare things will, it vanished.

Geography does not define you - love does.

One believes that if nothing happens, one disappears. That is not true.

All that remains is was.

The most cherished and sacred moments of our lives are those filled with the spirit of love.

Your skin upon my skin, in the beating of our hearts, may the living let us in, before the dead tear us apart.

Nothing comes back. The eye sees for a moment, the ear hears, but look, now it is gone.

I want to be held and told my name. I want to be valued, in ways that I am not; I want to be more than valuable. I repeat my former name; remind myself of what I once could do, how others saw me. I want to steal something.

It answers the question that was tormenting you: my love, you are not 'one thing in my life' - not even the most important - because my life no longer belongs to me because...you are always me.

Being or nothing, that is the question. Ascending, descending, coming, going, a man does so much that in the end he disappears.

Sam looked at me, yellow eyes catching and holding me. "I miss being me. I miss you. All the time.

We were so wholly one I had not thought That we could die apart. I had not thought That I could move,—and you be stiff and still! That I could speak,—and you perforce be dumb! I think our heart-strings were, like warp and woof In some firm fabric, woven in and out; Your golden filaments in fair design Across my duller fibre.

We breathe love as we breathe air; we hold it in ourselves as we hold our thoughts. Nothing more exists for us.

They held hands and knew that only the coffin would lie in the earth; the bubbly laughter and the press of fingers in the palm would stay aboveground forever. At first, as they stood there, their hands were clenched together. They relaxed slowly until during the walk back home their fingers were laced in as gentle a clasp as that of any two young girlfriends trotting up the road on a summer day wondering what happened to butterflies in the winter.

Intimacy starts with a relationship with yourself, an understanding of who you are.

... , listening to the storm outside as it left the city, knowing that I was going to lose her but also knowing that, for a few minutes, we had belonged to one another, and to nobody else.

The desire not to be anything is the desire not to be.

And I sat there getting drunker and drunker and more in love and more in love...And you can never touch a girl in the same way more than once, twice, or another number of times however much you may wish to hold, wrap, or otherwise fix her hand, or look, or some other quality, or incident, known to you previously.

You are never truly together with one you love until the person in question is dead and actually inside you.

Holding you, I held everything.

I wanted to wear her as you would a piece of clothing, to fold into her ribs, be a stone in her mouth.

Lovers embrace that which is between them rather than each other.

I didn't want to see her because it would make me feel better. I came because without her, it's hard to remember who I am.