Quotes About Fragility

M?s?iau, kaip sunku iš pirmo žvilgsnio pasakyti, apie k? žmon?s galvoja ir kokie jie pal?ž?.

flake hit the sidewalk and then melted almost immediately. Lancaster

Their dicks were their Achilles' heels.

Men can be brilliant and strong, they whispered to one another. But men can be mad, as well. And the mad ones can ruin the world.

À l'intérieur, il se sentait un creux immense et douloureux, comme s'il avait eu le cÅ"ur pris dans un étau de glace. Rien ne semblait pouvoir bouger en lui, au risque de briser quelque chose de chancelant, de précaire.

The integrity of my sleep has been forever compromised, sir.

There was something almost unbearably touching about a bald spot on a handicapped man.

She was the kind of fatally pretty and nubile wraithlike figure who glides through the sweaty junior-high corridors of every nocturnal emitter's dreamscape

Beyond that elfin face, the steady eyes, there was something breathing, something that was fed blood from a tiny heart beating under pointed breasts. But is was cobweb under the fingers. Cobweb in the woods that touches the face and disappears under the fingers.

Telle est la position de l'art de nos jours. Il est sans défense et fragilisé au milieu de l'océan de la brutalité utilitaire.

Our entire economy is built now on electronic money. It's all faith, and if a crack appears in that faith, then what?

Trifles light as air are to the jealous confirmations strong as proofs of holy writ.

Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff; Life and these lips have long been separated: Death lies on her like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.

Alas, the frailty is to blame, not we For such as we are made of, such we be

The crown o' the earth doth melt. My lord! O, wither'd is the garland of the war, The soldier's pole is fall'n: young boys and girls Are level now with men; the odds is gone, And there is nothing left remarkable Beneath the visiting moon.

Frailty, thy name is woman!

Death lies on her like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.

Imperious Caesar, dead and turned to clay, Might stop a hole to keep the wind away. Oh, that that earth, which kept the world in awe, Should patch a wall t' expel the winter's flaw!

O! how shall summer's honey breath hold out, / Against the wrackful siege of battering days?

Kingdoms are clay: our dungy earth alike Feeds beast as man.

For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, More longing, wavering, sooner lost and won, Than women's are. ... For women are as roses, whose fair flow'r Being once display'd doth fall that very hour. Viola: And so they are; alas, that they are so! To die, even when they to perfection grow!

But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd Than that which, withering on the virgin thorn, Grows, lives, and dies, in single blessedness.

They that stand high have many blasts to shake 275 them, 276 And if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces.

O momentary grace of mortal men, Which we more hunt for than the grace of God! Who builds his hopes in air of your good looks, Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast, Ready, with every nod, to tumble down Into the fatal bowels of the deep.