Quotes About Fragility

He looked like a once-green leaf that had begun to dry and to reveal the structure of its veins.

Ma perché questo, Efix, dimmi, tu che hai girato il mondo: è da per tutto così? Perché la sorte ci stronca così, come canne? – Sì, – egli disse allora, – siamo proprio come le canne al vento, donna Ester mia. Ecco perché! Siamo canne, e la sorte è il vento.

Little by little they all gathered around him, entering through the cracks like moonbeams...[b]ut once the wind of misfortune blows, people disperse like little clouds around the moon when the wind blows off the mountains.

siamo proprio come le canne al vento, donna Ester mia. Ecco perché! Siamo canne, e la sorte è il vento.

Everything you touch turns to broken.

When I look back on my childhood, I think of that short time in Beirut. I know that seeing the city collapse around me forced me to grasp something many people miss: the fragility of peace.

The earth is mostly just a boneyard. But pretty in the sunlight. – Larry McMurtry

Winter broke off, finally, a long ash crumbling at the end of a cigarette, burned out, weak and emptied.

You can take it with you because objects don't just disappear like some people do, intent to remind and to continue breaking, like china cups fragile hearts

I thought: to be tough is to be fragile; to be tender is to be truly fierce.

The toughness I was learning was not a martyred doggedness, a dumb heroism, but the art of accommodation. I thought: to be tough is to be fragile; to be tender is to be truly fierce.

Like water, I have no skin...only surface tension. (Gretel Ehrlich)

Like water, I have no skin...only surface tension.

Mon verre s'est brisé comme un éclat de rire

You think if you work hard enough, you can fix the precious things you've broken—rather than being careful with them in the first place.

In the medieval tradition, Beksinski seems to believe art to be a forewarning about the fragility of the flesh– whatever pleasures we know are doomed to perish– thus, his paintings manage to evoke at once the process of decay and the ongoing struggle for life. They hold within them a secret poetry, stained with blood and rust.

Do we not all do monstrous things to prevent the ultimate monstrous act? I like to visualize the world as a china plate held aloft by two sticks, one the US, the other the USSR. If one stick rises, so must the other, or else the plate goes smash.

Elisa lives in a world of her own devising. That's obvious from the shoes. Zelda imagines Elisa's perception as one of those dioramas she saw in a museum, perfect little realms, breakable but not if you walk softly.

We shouldn't maltreat our idols: the gilt comes off on our hands.

Nada hay más delicado ni más temible que las manos de los chiquillos: en ellas el juguete no puede durar mucho.

We will pick our way through the shards of broken objects folly leaves behind. And some of what breaks will be very beautiful.

He waited for his cup to be filled, then added softly, "We will pick our way through the shards of broken objects that folly leaves behind. And some of what breaks will be very beautiful.

And knowing, too, that this sort of artistry could not endure past the shaping moment, could only be spoken of after by those who recalled, or misrecalled, who had seen and half seen and not seen at all, distorted by memory and desire and ignorance, the achievement of it written as if on water or on sand. It mattered, terribly, and just now it didn't matter at all. Or could the fragility, the defining impermanence actually intensify the glory? The thing lost as soon as made?

He had curled himself up into a minature sphere in the farthest corner of the box, a fuzzy softball that would have fit eaisly into the palm of my hand.