A. S. Byatt Quotes

Holding hands, for example, is a way to remember how it feels to say nothing together.

When it's cold & dark at night, and we're alone together, I long to take you in my arms, and cuddle you forever.

Wordlessly I looked back at him, astonished that a kiss on the palm could be so intimate.

It's often just enough to be with someone. I don't need to touch them. Not even talk. A feeling passes between you both. You're not alone.

There is a silence, the child of love, which expresses everything, and proclaims more loudly than the tongue is able to do.

A boy is holding a girl so very tight in his arms tonight.

The silent thing onstage allows for a kind of intimacy that no conversation can have. If I just shut up, we're forced to look at each other and really confront that moment.

I don't know how much time passes with us just lying there, just feeling that the other is really there, really true, really alive, feeling the safety of him, his weight against mine, the roughness of his fingers touching my face, his warmth and his smell and the dustiness of his clothes, and we barely speak.

And we stood like that. The joining of hands is highly underrated in the acts of intimacy. You kiss acquaintances or colleagues, casually to say hello or good-bye. You might even kiss a close friend chastely on the lips. You might quickly hug anyone you knew. You might even meet someone at a party, take him home and sleep with him, never to see him or hear from him again. But to join hands and stand holding each other that way, with the electricity of possibilities flowing between you? The tenderness of it, the promise of it, is only something you share with a few people in your life.

I couldn't meet his gaze. I stared at the table just behind him--the mess of cards on it, the lantern giving off its quiet glow. "When you gave me your shirt to wear that night, I could feel you. I could feel your essence." The world went still. We were standing only inches from each other, not touching. Outside, I could hear the faint murmur of the wind blowing through the trees. "What did it feel like?" he asked in a low voice. "Like...coming home," I admitted.

I don’t know what boldness came over me, but the resolute heaviness of Dash’s demeanor threatened to crush my soul. My pinky finger crept over and nestled against his, for comfort. Like a magnet, his pinky finger latched onto and intertwined with mine. I like magnets a whole lot.

Just looking at each other is something really moving to me, more so than the nudity.

He gives me a conflicted look and touches his lips to my forehead, right between my eyebrows. I close my eyes. I don't understand this, whatever it is. But I don't want to ruin it, so I say nothing. He doesn't move; he just stays there with his mouth pressed to my skin, and I stay there with my hands on his waist, for a long time.

Trapped in silence, Marco traces apologies and adorations across Celia's body with his tongue. Mutely expressing all the things he cannot speak aloud. He finds other ways to tell her, his fingers leaving faint trails of ink in their wake. He savors every sound he elicits from her. The entire room trembles as they come together. And though there are a great many fragile objects contained within it, nothing breaks.

He thought it might be the most intimate thing possible, to fall asleep next to someone in the afternoon.

Intimacy can be about holding someone's hand. It could be about stroking their hair.

When I'm in love with a woman, seeing her in something cozy makes me not want to let go of her when I'm holding her.

My softer side? I mean, I like to snuggle.

An orange on the table, your dress on the rug, and you in my bed, sweet present of the present, cool of night, warmth of my life.

A small silence came between us, as precise as a picture hanging on the wall.

There's nothing like being hugged or held or just anything as simple as that.

They invented hugs to let people know you love them without saying anything.

I can't really explain what it's like to be in love, but I feel like it's being comfortable. It's almost like having a best friend. It's a beautiful thing.

But with exquisite breathing you smile, with satisfaction of love, And I touch you again as you tick in the silence and settle in sleep.

It's not every day that you get to be affectionate around something, it just doesn't happen that often.