Quotes About Fragility

Foi por isso que a gente acabou, Ed, por uma coisinha pequena que sumiu ou quem sabe nunca tenha estado de verdade nas minhas mãos

I guess I already loved you then. Doomed like a wineglass knowing it'll get dropped someday, shoes that'll be scuffed in no time, the new shirt you'll soon enough muck up filthy.

Long, dark, and lovely she had been, in those days before her mind broke and the parts scattered and she let them go.

every system has within it the seeds of its own destruction

The world has already been too tough on her, the least she needs is tough love. Be tough when you need to be, but always be soft with her. She has thorns, but she is a flower.

I'm a very strong woman, but a small ignoring from you can able to ruin my day!!

When you're young and fall off a horse, you may break something. When you're my age and you fall off, you splatter.

I've either got an acute case of hypochondria or I'm falling apart at the age of twenty-three.

In my medicine cabinet, the winter fly has died of old age.

Hey, even the Mona Lisa is falling apart.

The hare grows old as she plays in the sun And gazes around her with eyes of brightness; Before the swift things that she dreamed of were done She limps along in an aged whiteness.

Most long lives resemble those threads of gossamer, the nearest approach to nothing unmeaningly prolonged, scarce visible pathways of some worm from his cradle to his grave.

The aged are terrible - mere heaps of cinders on the grass from which none can tell how tall the flames once were or what company gathered round them.

Thy decay's still impregnate with divinity.

why won't they leave me alone? don't they realize I have a tinder heart and a paper body and that any spark will turn me straight to ash?

He didn't know, as we grownups knew, what the war meant and might mean. He had only understood that what we were that day was lovely and could not last.

For me, reading that scene never fails to bring on a brief, scalding instant of recognition in recalling exactly what it was like to be a tiny little kid, your whole sense of being so lumpy and vulnerable that the smallest things were everything, and the everything could be so unspeakably wonderful, and the wonderful could be snatched away in an instant, leaving a big ragged hole in your universe just like the one in Laura's dress.

I am fascinated by the idea that our civilization is like a thin layer of ice upon a deep ocean of chaos and darkness.

In mir wühlte eine Verlassenheit, wie Termiten in einem gefallenen Baumstamm.

I was struck with the consuming terror that the miser must feel for his hoard. It was so vulnerable.

What are we (I ask) but puppets in a show-box? Oh, omnipotent Destiny, pull our strings gently! Dance us mercifully off our moserable little stage!

Magic begins in superstition, and ends in science. ... At every step the history of civilization teaches us how slight and superficial a structure civilization is, and how precariously it is poised upon the apex of a never-extinct volcano of poor and oppressed barbarism, superstition and ignorance. Modernity is a cap superimposed upon the Middle Ages, which always remain.

Civilization exists by geologic consent, subject to change without notice.

WARNING! Life leads to old age, illness and death.