Quotes About Fragility

Nicole's world had fallen to pieces, but it was only a flimsy and scarcely created world; beneath it her emotions and instincts fought on.

She wouldn't let go of the letter. She took it into the tub with her and squeezed it up in a wet ball, and only let me leave it in the soap dish when she saw that it was coming to pieces like snow.

the cracked plate has to be retained in the pantry, has to be kept in service as a household necessity. It can never be warmed on the stove nor shuffled with the other plates in the dishpan; it will not be brought out for company but it will do to hold crackers late at night or to go into the ice-box with the left overs.

Her bedroom had seemed so pink and young and delicate, appropriate to her pastel-shaded lingerie tossed here and there on chair and bed.

The price for his intactness was incompleteness.

A sudden gust of rain blew over them and then another - as if small liquid clouds were bouncing along the land. Lightning entered the sea far off and the air blew full of crackling thunder. The table cloths blew around the pillars. They blew and blew and blew. The flags twisted around the red chairs like live things, the banners were ragged, the corners of the table tore off through the burbling billowing ends of the cloths.

There's no beauty without poignancy and there's no poignancy without the feeling that it's going, men, names, books, houses—bound for dust—mortal—

Évszázadok telnek még el, mire egy amazon végre képes lesz fölfogni azt a tényt, hogy a férfi kizárólag a büszkeségében sebezhetÅ' meg, de ha ezt egyszer megrobbantják, törékeny lesz az egész ember, akár a tojás.

They stood an uncomfortable little group weighted down by Abe's gigantic presence: he lay athwart them like the wreck of a galleon, dominating with his presence his own weakness and self-indulgence, his narrowness and bitterness. All of them were conscious of the solemn dignity that flowed from him, of his achievement, fragmentary, suggestive and surpassed. But they were frightened at his surviving will, once a will to love, now become a will to die.

Beautiful things grow to a certain height and then they fail and fade off, breathing out memories as they decay.

As he sat on the side of the bed, he felt the room, the house and the night as empty. In the next room Nicole muttered something in her sleep. For him time stood still and then every few years accelerated in a rush, like the quick re-wind of a film, but for Nicole the years slipped away by clock and calendar and birthday, with the added poignance of her perishable beauty.

Man is vulnerable only in his pride, but delicate as Humpty-Dumpty once that is meddled with - though some of them paid the fact a cautious lipservice.

naked souls are poor things ever

Solo son cenizas flotando

Elle était incurablement malhonnête. Elle ne supportait pas d'être mise en échec et, pour compenser cette fragilité, je pense qu'elle s'était exercée à mentir dès son plus jeune âge, afin de présenter au monde un sourire d'insolence glaciale tout en cédant aux exigences de son tempérament avide et cynique.

Charley was twenty-six, with that faint musk of weakness hanging about him that is often mistaken for the scent of evil.

All my beautiful lovely safe world blew itself up here with a great gust of high explosive love.

Things are sweeter when they're lost. I know—because once I wanted something and got it. It was the only thing I ever wanted badly, Dot. And when I got it it turned to dust in my hands.

He must have looked up at an unfamiliar sky through frightening leaves and shivered as he found what a grotesque thing a rose is and how raw the sunlight was upon the scarcely created grass. A new world, material without being real, where poor ghosts, breathing dreams like air, drifted fortuitously about...

He stretched out his had desperately as if to snatch only a wisp of air, to save a fragment of the spot that she (Daisy) had made lovely for him. But it was all going by too fast now for his blurred eyes and he knew that he had lost that part of it, the freshest and the best, forever.

Ahí va la pobre, a romperse en él. Lo mismo que se rompe una ola en las rocas. Un poco de espuma y adiós.

When one of my Japanese teacups is broken, I imagine that the real cause was not the careless hand of a maid but the anxieties of the figures inhabiting the curves of that porcelain. Their grim decision to commit suicide doesn't shock me: they used the maid as one of us might use a gun.

Everything that surrounds us becomes part of us, it seeps into us with every experience of the flesh and of life and, like the web of a great Spider, binds us subtly to what is near, ensnares us in a fragile cradle of slow death, where we lie rocking in the wind.

As bolas de sabão que esta criança Se entretém a largar de uma palhinha São translucidamente uma filosofia toda.