“It is hard to feel safe and comfortable when the only measures for what is safe and comfortable are normative ideas you don't abide by.”

“Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts not measured words, but pouring them right out, just as they are.”

“When someone loves you, the way they talk about you is different. You feel safe and comfortable.”

“WHAT IS SAFE? Is safe the hands that hold you no matter what? Or is safe someone hurting enough to fight? Is safe the one who is strong as a pillar? Or is safe who wants to use the strength of two, not one? Is love safe? Or is it better to find comfort? Can there be comfort without love? Can passion come from warmth? Or does it need to come from fire?”

“…a woman's always safe and comfortable when a fellow's down on his luck.”

“Oh, the comfort — the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person — having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together; certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then with the breath of kindness blow the rest away.”