Quotes About Fragility

Er zijn twee soorten van mensen in de wereld. De ene was van een hard en verpletterend materiaal, de andere integendeel van een doorschijnender en meer sprokkere substantie.

Love built on pain-the kind that lasts: whatever you love can be taken away from us at any moment but the loss of what we love belongs to us forever.

Love built on pain-the kind that lasts: whatever you love can be taken away from us at any moment but the loss of what we love belongs to us forever." ? Louise Doughty, Whatever You Love

There seems such a fine line between falling into place and falling apart.

I don't know what came over me. It's like sometimes when it's very quiet I feel like screaming. And sometimes when I'm holding something delicate I feel like dropping it. I don't know why.

People instinctively let down their guard when they saw a limp, an illness, a flaw in someone else. Not out of compassion but because it made them feel superior. Stronger. Those people, Gamache knew, did not always last long. It was not a useful instinct.

All my works have vessels of some sort. Containers. Sometimes it's in the negative space, sometimes it's more obvious ... He's very loyal. He puts everything he has into one thing. one interest, one hobby, one friend, one love. I'm his love and it scares the shit out of me ... He's poured all his love into me. I'm his vessel. But suppose I crack? Suppose I break? Suppose I die? What would he do?

Things are strongest where they're broken.

In winter the very ground seemed to reach up and grab the elderly, yanking them to earth as though hungry for them. Shattering a hip or wrist, or neck. Best to take it slow.

Outside, clouds had once again rolled in and brought with them snow. Again. Huge soft flakes, as though the clouds themselves were breaking up and drifting down in pieces.

How long would it be before the elements toppled these small structures as they had already toppled the broch and the castle? Would future archaeologists dig here, or had records grown so precise every aspect of the recent past would be charted and ready for those who wanted to know? Maybe, soon enough, there would be no one left, no world to chronicle and argue over. All things must end, why not this too? The thought almost had the power to cheer him.

Life is filigree work. What is written clearly is not worth much, it's the transparency that counts.

Our stories remind us how precious and fragile life can be-- and that we must risk our hearts everyday to know happiness.

Everyone recognizes reality (or recognizes what, in their experience, clearly pertains to reality) only because others designate it to them as such. Reality suffers from a species of inherent fragility, such that the reality of reality must incessantly be reinforced in order to endure.

Alles van waarde is weerloos, wordt van aanraakbaarheid rijk.

Whenever Ter read a book, rarely—he would rip each page off and throw it away. I would come home, to where the windows were always open or broken and the whole room would be swirling with pages, like Safeway lot pigeons.

From 'Periodic Table of Elements': A girl ago, a girlhood gone like a phial of ether | Thrown on fire--just | A little jump of flame, like grief, or | Like a penicillin that has lost its skill at killing | Off, it then is gone.

who among us can imagine ourselves unimagined? who among us can speak with so fragile tongue and remain proud?

O miserable minds of men! O blind hearts! In what darkness of life, in what great dangers ye spend this little span of years!

You get tragedy where the tree, instead of bending, breaks.

Safety is relative. You can be so close to shore that you can practically feel it under your feet, when you suddenly find yourself breaking apart on the rocks.

As a kid, his favorite toy had been a snow globe, that held a small town of gingerbread buildings and peppermint streets. He'd wanted so badly to live there that one day he'd smashed the glass ball - only to find out that the houses were made of plaster, the candy stripes painted on.

Security was a mirage; being tied down hardly counted when the other end of the rope had unraveled.

It is a curious thing, watching a strong man fall to pieces.