Quotes About Vulnerability

Here." Sam came over, stripped down to his boxers. "Hunch forward and put your head down." Robin looked at him. "My safe word is monkey.

Then...you want to tell me what's going on with you and Deck?" Lindsey asked. "Nothing's going on," Tracy started to say, but changed it to a simple, "No." Lindsey, after all, wasn't an idiot. Naked plus naked equaled something, not nothing.

Dr. Heissman laughed and immediately apologized, "I'm sorry, I'm just so used to what I think of as squeezing water from a stone syndrome. SpecWar operators are not big on admitting to what they perceive to be a weakness. Even though awareness of vulnerability ultimately leads to strength. Either from directly dealing with the issue or learning to work around it.

When/ the piano falls, not /if/. Oh, Alyssa. What a way to live. With potential pain and heartbreak lurking around every corner. And the only way to effectively counter it was to prepare for the worst to happen. Or maybe even to run away from the good things -- like love. If you didn't let yourself love someone, you couldn't lose them. No wonder Alyssa had fought so hard for so long to keep Sam out of her life.

Why does it not surprise me that you talk during sex?

She was going to let him in, going to give him everything he so desperately wanted, and take more form him than he'd probably dreamed he was capable of giving. - Molly to 'Jones'/Grady

The average life expectancy for a black man in an American city is something like twenty-three very short years. The reality of that had never fully kicked in before, but it did that night. And I thought, hell, I'm at risk just walking around.

Savannah, I've been talking my ass off for more than an hour now, telling you shit no one's ever heard anything about, hoping that I'll say something, Jesus God, anything that will convince you to have sex with me.

If you want, I can carry you—" "I'm fine," she said shortly. "Let's go." He'd said that wrong. He should have said, "I want to carry you.

No doubt about it, Lawrence Decker was the reason God had invented nakedness.

I can feel Peeta press his forehead into my temple and he asks, 'So now that you've got me, what are you going to do with me?' I turn into him. 'Put you somewhere you can't get hurt.

It must be very fragile, if a handful of berries can bring it down.

You're not afraid I'll kill you tonight?" "Like I couldn't take you.

but it's not safe and I can feel him slipping away, so I just get out one more sentence. "Stay with me." As the tendrils of sleep syrup pull me down, I hear him whisper a word back but I don't catch it.

Betrayal. That's the first thing I feel, which is ludicrous. For there to be betrayal, there would have had to been trust first.

In stark contrast to two nights ago, when I felt Peeta was a million miles away, I'm struck by his immediacy now. As we settle in, he pulls my head down to use his arm as a pillow; the other rests protectively over me even when he goes to sleep. No one has held me like this in such a long time. Since my father died and I stopped trusting my mother, no one else's arms have made me feel this safe.

Agreed," I say. "It's going to be a long hour." "Maybe not that long," says Peeta." what was that you were saying just before the food arrived? Something about me ... no competition ... best thing that ever happened to you ... " " I don't remember that last part," I say, hoping it's too dim in here for the cameras to pick up my blush. " Oh, that's right. That's what I was thinking," he says " Scoot over, I'm freezing.

Having an eye for beauty isn't the same thing as a weakness...except possibly when it comes to you.

Flight is essential, but I can't let my fear show.

And so I'm stupid for thinking they might be useful. Because of something Johanna Mason said while she was oiling her breasts for wrestling.

That is the thing with giving your heart. You never wait for someone to ask. You hold it out and hope they want it

Having an eye for beauty isn't the same thing as a weakness.

The pain over my heart returns, and from it I imagine tiny fissures spreading out into my body. Through my torso, down my arms and legs, over my face, leaving it crisscrossed with cracks. One good jolt...and I could shatter into strange razor-sharp shards.

I don't want to cry. Everyone will make note of my tears and I'll be marked as an easy target. A weakling. I will give no one that satisfaction.