Quotes About Vulnerability

You have welcomed an incubus into your bed yet you shun me. You're pathetic.

Your mind, your soul, is like an overturned jug. Everything pours out.

You have a beautiful face, mister. I'd hate to think of it pecked away.

The man's words somehow unflexed him in time and space. He felt momentarily unreal, as if his very existence depended on the next words this stranger would utter. He had to make a noise, take some action, to dispell the terrifying sensation.

There is nothing for you to fear in being honest.

Sexual partners who dropped you without a word caused the most horrible of self-doubts.

Perhaps there was some truth in the implication Taropat had made. Merlan had taken Khaster's place in Tayven's mind. He was the weak and vulnerable one now, and Tayven felt he must help him as he couldn't have helped before.

One man told me he did not like what looked out of my eyes. How could I respond to that? He was clearly seeing the truth of me; for all my pious motives, a dangerous killer.

Othman kissed his face gently, licked his tears. Then he sank down with Daniel in his arms, to sit against the side of the bed. He held Daniel in his lap, stroked his face.

I felt Beth flinch against me, and longed to reach for his hand, but I wanted to betray no sign of weakness.

He wished he was made of stone, and did not have to feel anything.

Daniel was his strength, his psychic eye. But it had been plucked out.

Even though she stood beyond the shadow, she had to shiver.

There: the child, her lovely gleam, her bright innocence, so trusting. And she too reaches out to us.

Khaster was weeping now, the same tears he had wept a thousand times in boyhood, when he'd curled himself into a dark corner, overcome by feelings of inadequacy and fear. Valraven had always found him, brought him out into the light, filled him with strength.

He looked up at her, his face that of total vulnerability. He was a boy again, confused because the world had acted against him.

Ah, Tayven, we are not together and I am not swooning in your embrace, ready to spill all. I see through your wiles.

Wounded?" was all I could manage. "Yes," said Pat. "And you're wounded in the same place. That's what fathers do if they don't heal their wounds. They wound their children in the same place.

If you can't have frank and honest discussions with your partner about sex, you'd better be damn good with your hands.

Put her in any situation that was even vaguely new and personal and she was lost; her pale, almost translucent skin and auburn hair seemed to signal everything she was feeling. She may raise her chin in proud disdain and even curl her lip in an emergency, but nobody was likely to be fooled if she glowed the colour of a midsummer sunset.

That's the trouble with care in the community – nobody does.

Our capacity for love isn't like a gallon jug that you fill up from rest stop to rest stop as you take a drive across the country. It can swell, and sadly, it can shrink. Less is not more.

Pride is a powerful narcotic, but it doesn't do much for the auto-immune system.

In the cabaret of globalization, the state shows itself as a table dancer that strips off everything until it is left with only the minimum indispensable garments: the repressive force.