A Quote by Jennifer Egan

Oh we'll know each other forever, Bix says. The days of losing touch are almost gone. — © Jennifer Egan
Oh we'll know each other forever, Bix says. The days of losing touch are almost gone.
The good old days, when each idea had an owner, are gone forever.
We don't need no more danger, we don't need no more difficulties, we don't need no more misunderstanding, and we don't need no more violence. We need the people to see each other and know of each other, feel each other, touch each other, share with each other, and change hearts with each other.
The reason I know what we are to each other is because we fight freely and almost constantly, about even the smallest thing. In fact, once we didn't speak for an entire week because he didn't like the way I loaded his dishwasher...I can't decide if we're exact opposites, or somehow exactly the same except for minor cosmetic differences. I do know that all of his friends hate me and all of my friends hate him. We drive each other crazy in ways that nobody else can even touch. We never bore each other. And we both realize what a rare thing this is.
People been killing each other since forever and hurting each other since forever and taking advantage of each other since forever.
In former days, when there were Whigs instead of Liberals, it was almost a rule of political life that all leading Whigs sould be uncles, brothers-in-law, or cousins to each other. This was pleasant and gave great consistency to the party; but the system has now gone out of vogue.
Not forever does the bulbul sing In balmy shades of bowers, Not forever lasts the spring Nor ever blossom the flowers. Not forever reigneth joy, Sets the sun on days of bliss, Friendships not forever last, They know not life, who know not this.
You are a ghost, Andi," she says. "Almost gone." I look at her. I want to say something but I can't get the words out. She squeezes my hands. "Come back to us," she says. And she's gone.
In India, you can just show up at a friend's house, and they will feed you; you can borrow someone's clothes and touch each other. In London, they would say, 'Oh, let's meet for coffee at 4:15, and we will talk about, I don't know, this play that we saw.'
Sober Thoughts' is a song about an unhealthy relationship I was in with a girl, where we would continue to mistreat each other, to spite each other. We were bad for each other, yet we always came back together, because we thought we 'loved each other.' It was a young love, not a forever love.
He and I don't know each other like that. We know each other as strictly basketball. A lot of people on the outside don't understand that because people think we have a relationship like every other father and son. We just don't. That's because he's been gone my whole life, and that's fine.
That’s love: Two lonely persons keep each other safe and touch each other and talk to each other.
Here, when I say I never want to be without you, somewhere else I am saying I never want to be without you again. And when I touch you in each of the places we meet, in all of the lives we are, it's with hands that are dying and resurrected. When I don't touch you it's a mistake in any life, in each place and forever
When the Stranger says: "What is the meaning of this city? Do you huddle close together because you love each other?" What will you answer? "We all dwell together To make money from each other"? or "This is a community"? Oh my soul, be prepared for the coming of the Stranger. Be prepared for him who knows how to ask questions.
In a dog's world, only three states existed: "now," "in a while," and "forever." If someone left, he was gone "forever," and when he returned they rejoiced as much as if he were back from the dead precisely because he'd been gone "forever.
The music certainly plays a major role. You can be free enough to comfort each other, to touch each other, to embrace each other, to engage each other, to not be afraid of each other. The music certainly has that very strong element. Go back to folk songs, gospel, jazz, and spirituals. See, all of that came out of tremendous pain and hurt, rejection, loss, alienation, and abandonment. What I'm doing is I'm expressing my pain and hope at the same time.
He gives me a kiss that barely touches my lips – it means nothing or everything. After he’s gone, I think, Happy birthday to me. Jack says, ‘That was the guy?’ ‘That was him.’ Jake shakes his head. ‘What?’ ‘He’s not for you,’ he says. I say, ‘How do you know?’ but what I mean is, How do you know? ‘He’s like Ashley Wilkes,’ he says. ‘Any one of these guys is Rhett-ier than he is.’ Again, I ask my benignly inflected, ‘How do you know?’ ‘How do I know?’ he says, tackling me into a bear hug. ‘How do I know? I know, that’s how I know.
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