Quotes About Fragility

I told you, kid," Nash said beside me. "You're not a player. You're the glass ballerina—or the knife.

Jij bent de glazen ballerina...of het mes.' - Nash Westbrook Hawthorne (De erfenis)

My right hand holding the blue-green glass, I dropped the towel with my left and reached for him. "Don't," Grayson breathed. He turned to walk past me. "I told you once before, Avery: I'm broken. I won't break you, too. Go back to bed. Forget about that piece of glass and whatever else was in that bag. Stop playing the old man's games"... That felt final in a way that nothing else between us ever had.

My grandfather told us that as you amass the kind of power and money he had-- things get broken.

Some people are made stronger by loss. Others are broken by it.

Reggie's earliest memory of her mother began with her mother balancing an egg on its end and ended with Reggie losing her left ear.

We never know how long we have. We're never guaranteed tomorrow. I could die right now, right here.

I am staring at the place where the floor used to be. All I can think is how one minute the floor was there and now it's not. How you could go through an entire day, every day, not thinking about the floor or the ground because you just assume it will always be there. Until it isn't.

Innocence is an infinitely fragile thing and thought can sometimes injure, even destroy it. - Pg. 254

Ever since the morning, Pierre had beheld many frightful sufferings in that woeful white train. But none had so distressed his soul as did that wretched female skeleton, liquefying in the midst of its lace and its millions.

Élodie, who was rising fifteen, lifted her anaemic, puffy, virginal face with its wispy hair; she was so thin-blooded that good country air seemed only to make her more sickly.

Tais-toi, rêveuse ! Tu me fais trembler ... Tu te briseras les os, en retombant sur terre.

He's such a cobweb, a pinch would annihilate him.

Perhaps such fragile happiness could never have lasted, but the way it came to an end was worse than anyone could have imagined.

Life is a spell so exquisite that everything conspires to break it.

To be a Flower, is profound Responsibility

Poor little heart! Did they forget thee? Then dinna care! Then dinna care! Proud little heart! Did they forsake thee? Be debonair! Be debonair! Frail little heart! I would not break thee: Could'st credit me? Could'st credit me? Gay little heart! Like morning glory Thou'll wilted be; thou'll wilted be!

The night was wide, and furnished scant With but a single star, That often as a cloud it met Blew out itself for fear. The wind pursued the little bush

So unsuspected violets Within the fields lie low, Too late for striving fingers That passed, an hour ago.

Could mortal lip divine The undeveloped freight Of a delivered syllable, 'T would crumble with the weight.

La genciana trenza sus bordes, el telar del arce está rojo. Mis flores moribundas eluden la ostentación.

There are umbrellas for rain. Parkas for blizzards. Storm cellars for tornadoes. But there's no protection for this.

I think about the thin, fragile line separating all of us from misfortune, almost as a way of putting a few coins in my own gratitude meter, of safeguarding against and after happening to me.

Sometimes words were like glass that broke in her mouth.