Quotes About Fragility

Is this what it all comes to? I wondered. Is this how it is supposed to turn out? You have your accidents, your broken bones and diseases, and then there is a strange hairiness that overtakes you and pretty soon you're dead, put in a wooden box and buried under a pile of dirt?

She was young and very beautiful, but pale, like the grey pallor of death.

It was like a miracle, but before our very eyes, and almost in the drawing of a breath, the whole body crumbled into dust and passed from our sight.

she bore so many of the signs and disfigurings of extreme old age that she was losing her resemblance to other human beings and began instead to resemble other orders of living creatures. Her arms lay in her lap, so extravagantly spotted with brown that they were like two fish. Her skin was the white, almost transparent skin of the extremely old, as fine and wrinkled as a spider's web, with veins of knotted blue.

L'uomo ha bisogno della bellezza. Senza questa apertura, ciò che si spalanca davanti a noi è solo il mondo dell'homo hominis lupus, della barbarie. E la parola - la parola fondata, la parola fondante - è una delle forme in cui si manifesta la bellezza, il legame inquietantemente profondo che lega l'essere humano alla sua fragilità.

Hummingbirds are less flesh than fairies. They are little more than bubbles fringed with iridescent feathers—air wrapped in light.

Becoming aware of fragility, of temporality, of the fact that we will surely all be lost to one another, sooner or later, mandates a clear imperative to be totally kind and loving to each other always [p.119].

He could shred me so easily. A few words, a desperate look, and I was cut wide open.

That you can know what i have in me and still want me as much as i want you. i go to sleep every night afraid i'll wake up and you'll be gone.or that i scared you away ... that i dreamed you- no. Gideon. jesus he broke my heart every day. shattered me.

I loved him too much. I was constantly worried that I wouldn't be able to hold on to him. He was lightning in a bottle, a dream I tried to hold in my hands.

We were putting ourselves through the wringer for those moments of perfection between us, but they were so tenuous that only our stubbornness, determination, and love kept us fighting for them.

I'm safe in your arms. But you have never been safe in mine.

He doesn't understand that when you crack something open and everything spills out, you've got nothing left but a shell.

I didn't want my picture taken because I was going to cry. I didn't know why I was going to cry, but I knew that if anybody spoke to me or looked at me too closely the tears would fly out of my eyes and the sobs would fly out of my throat and I'd cry for a week. I could feel the tears brimming and sloshing in me like water in a glass that is unsteady and too full.

How frail the human heart must be?a mirrored pool of thought.

I suppose I'll always be over-vulnerable, slightly paranoid.

I could feel the tears brimming and sloshing in me like water in a glass that is unsteady and too full.

I inhabit the wax image of myself, a doll's body. Sickness begins here; I am a dartboard for witches.

I said: I must remember this, being small.

S?rça fanusun içinde ölü bir bebek gibi t?kan?p kalm?? biri için dünyan?n kendisi kötü bir düÅŸtür. Bir gün bir yerde -okulda, Avrupa'da, herhangi bir yerde- o boÄŸucu çarp?tmalar?yla s?rça fanusun yeniden üzerime inmeyeceÄŸini nas?l bilebilirdim?

All night your moth-breath Flickers among the flat pink roses. I wake to listen. A far sea moves in my ear. --from Morning Song, written 19 February 1961

Let me sit in a flowerpot, The spiders won't notice. My heart is a stopped geranium.

A little thing, like children putting flowers in my hair, can fill up the widening cracks in my self-assurance like soothing lanolin.

Little poppies, little hell flames, Do you do no harm? You flicker. I cannot touch you. I put my hands among the flames. Nothing burns.