Quotes About Fragility

When I think of Simone now, I think of butterfly wings. Beautiful and excruciatingly delicate. Touch them once and they might disintegrate.

she would always be, at the very best, a dewdrop on life's river bank.

We never spoke of it but we knew that to come within the orbit of each other's skin-scent and cellular hum could end only one way: falling helplessly, spectacularly into the other's gravity well, momentarily brilliant like all falling stars, but doomed, because I loved Rose. And this friendship was too precious to burn.

When an imago first pushes free of the budding chrysalis and unfolds its still-damp wings, anything, even something as ephermal as breath, can deform the final, glorious insect. A crass question now could crush this fragile new understanding. I asked anyway.

She felt depressed and uncertain, not yet ready to be alone with her new and fragile thoughts.

He looked so small and wounded in his bright jacket that I opened my arms and pulled him in. He wrapped his hands around my hips, leaned his forehead on my breastbone and wept. He smelled of woodsmoke and tea.

This was the world I belonged to now, this one, where when a living thing died it fed others, where the scents were of mouse drops and sap, not exhaust fumes and cordite, and the air hummed with insects rather than screams and the roar of flame.

I've heard horror stories of Old Masters wrapped in newspapers and arriving with ghastly copes of the funnies imprinted on a stately old forehead.

Her back was straight, she moved with enormous, fragile dignity.

For some reason it wasn't as hard to have her touch me, now that she knew my name. Her fingers were strong and brisk. I wondered who she went home to, whether she washed their hair for them in the shower or bath, if she knew how easy it would be to hurt me across the larynx with a shampoo bottle and watch me choke to death. I almost sat up.

You're like a sharp bright piece broken from a star. Too sharp, too bright, sometimes for your own good.

The modern world seems invincible. Like the extinct dinosaurs.

Civilizations are mortal" is the greatest comfort for someone alive today.

Es genügt, daß die Schönheit unseren Überdruß streift, damit unser Herz wie Seide zwischen den Händen des Lebens zerreißt.

Were we all, the whole upper crust of Russian society, so totally insensitive, so horribly obtuse, as not to feel that the charmed life that we were leading was in itself an injustice and hence could not possibly last?

Part of me is made of glass, and also, I love you.

An average of seventy-four species become extinct every day, which was one good reason but not the only one to hold someone's hand...

The veneer of civilization is very thin.

You don't dare to think ahead too much, for you don't want this melted under the heat of your attention, don't want it gone from your life.

There is something about spending Christmas alone, naked, sitting by the Christmas tree gripping a shotgun, that lets you know your life is spinning dangerously outta control.

To love was to regain the capacity to remember a world without names, to recall by virtue of the whorl above the beloved's knucklebones and to blue of the veins beneath the skin the unbearable fragility of mornings in this counrty, to find October odors trapped in the skinfolds between her toes along with the scent of talcum powder and soap and human sweat.

Respect for the fragility and importance of an individual life is still the mark of an educated man.

büyük kalpler nedense çok zay?f oluyor…

Why, flowers are violent, cruel, terrible, splendid...like love.