Quotes About Fragility

My tongue is pierced with glass.

What matters most has an ultimate metallic quality of death. The chasuble and the wagon wheel, the razor and the prickly beards of shepherds, the bare moon, a fly, humid cupboards, rubble piles, the images of saints covered in lace, quicklime, and the wounding edges of the rooflines and watchtowers.

Moon like a large stainedglass window that breaks on the ocean.

A wavering spirit may be easier wreck'd, Because 't is frailer, doubtless, than a stanch one; But when the latter works its own undoing, Its inner crash is like an earthquake's ruin.

All we who write put me in mind of sailors hastily making rafts upon doomed ships. When we break up under the heavy years and go down into eternity with all that is ours our thoughts like small lost rafts float on awhile upon Oblivion's sea. They will not carry much over those tides, our names and a phrase or two and little else.

But I do love the world," I whispered to the empty room. I love its small ones, the things beaten in the strangling surf the singing bird which falls and is not seen again, the lost ones, the failures of the world.

Cuando la felicidad es demasiado grande, cuando a uno le curan de una herida demasiado mala, cuando todo es demasiado bonito, sólo hay un presentimiento que un hombre sensato pueda tener: algo está a punto de joderse.

Because you're an asshole! Because you can't think beyond your dick. You are a weak, vulnerable target. You and your fragile male ego. I—" She swipes tears from her face. "I knew you were lying. Deep down, I knew.

You're kidding? These people live in a glass box with no option to shut the world out? That's kind of—" "Exhibitionist. Yeah. Fishbowl-like." "I was going to say vulnerable," she says softly.

How men are like little ants on the crust of the earth, busying themselves with all that is so important, but their lives and industry are just a blink in geological time, really. Borrowed time at that. Mother Earth has only to shrug a shoulder in her sleep, and all the little men and houses go tumbling and scattering, and the men go fleeing for safer sanctuary.

when we feel fragile, we're like raw eggs—we crack open and splatter if dropped. But when we develop more resilience, we're like hard-boiled eggs—we might get dinged up if dropped, but we won't crack completely and spill all over the place.

Mike, my colleague, had said a while back that when we feel fragile, we're like raw eggs- we crack open and splatter if dropped. But when we develop more resilience, we're like hard-boiled eggs- we might get dinged up if dropped, but we won't crack completely and spill all over the place.

I once told Wendell that Mike, my colleague, had said a while back that when we feel fragile, we're like raw eggs—we crack open and splatter if dropped. But when we develop more resilience, we're like hard-boiled eggs—we might get dinged up if dropped, but we won't crack completely and spill all over the place.

It's a scary thing, you know, being a man. We always have to run the risk of inviting someone out and being turned down flat. You women don't realize how fragile our egos are.

Sheep can befriend a hungry wolf only for briefly.

Cell phones were like those security guys in red shirts on old Star Trek: as soon as something started happening, they were always the first to go.

They say civilization is a thin veneer over barbarism. Chicago stood waiting for the first tearing sound.

Goddamn but her mind was so exhausted with trying to hold the world together, tired of being the living glue for herself, as if she let go, great pieces of her life would shatter and fall off in mockery of the apocalypse.

one motion of individual want sends trembles around a circle of dependents, until the whole helpless ring knocks and shakes like a tray of wineglasses in an unsteady waiter's hands. Any music they make is random, involuntary and brief; one can't be still unless they all are, and they never are.

shells, as unique and timeless as bones, helped me realize that we all die young, that in the life of the earth, we are houseflies, here for one brief flash.

shells, as unique and timeless as bones, helped me realize that we all die young, that in the life of the earth, we are houseflies, here for one flash of light.

To have just been born for beauty & see sadness What is this frail sickness?

My life is a crystal teardrop. There are snowflakes falling in the teardrop and little figures trudging around in slow motion. If I were to look into the teardrop for the next million years, I might never find out who the people are, and what they are doing.

Superstition prevails, fear that the fragile unfinished something will shatter, vanish, revert to the nothing from which it was made.