Quotes About Vulnerability

You have to understand that, Lord. You said, Suffer little children to come unto me, and harm them not. Did you forget? Did you forget about the children? Yes. You forgot. You let them go wanting, sit on road shoulders, crying next to their dead mothers. I've seen them charred, lame, halt. You forgot, Lord. You forgot how and when to be God.

That's something you will have- a broken heart.

L'amore non è mai migliore di chi ama. I malvagi amano con malvagità, i violenti con violenza, i deboli con debolezza e gli stupidi in modo stupido, ma l'amore di un uomo libero non è mai sicuro. on c'è dono per la persona amata. Solo chi ama possiede il suo dono d'amore. Chi è amato viene reciso, neutralizzato, congelato nello sguardo dell'occhio interiore di chi ama.

There is a loneliness that can be rocked. It's an inside kind—wrapped tight like skin. Then there is the loneliness that roams. No rocking can hold it down. It is alive. On its own.

I've had only two regular women. I liked the small breakable thing inside each one. Whatever their personality, smarts, or looks, something soft lay inside each. Like a bird's breastbone, shaped and chosen to wish on. A little V, thinner than bone and lightly hinged, that I could break with a forefinger if I wanted to, but never did. Want to, I mean. Knowing it was there, hiding from me, was enough.

She waiting impatiently for him to turn away and settle into a wet skim of satisfaction and light disgust, leaving her to the postcoital privateness in which she met herself, welcomed herself, and joined herself in matchless harmony.

Women stopped crying and danced; men sat down and cried; children danced, women laughed, children cried until, exhausted and riven, all and each lay about the Clearing damp and gasping for breath.

Would it be all right? Would it be all right to go ahead and feel? Go ahead and count on something

Deacon began to speak of a woman who he had used; how he had turned up his nose at her because her loose and easy ways gave him the license to drop and despise her. That while the adultery preyed on him for a short while (very short), his long remorse was at having become what the Old Fathers cursed: the kind of man who set himself up to judge, rout and even destroy the needy, the defenseless, the different.

Saying more might push them both to a place they couldn't get back from. He would keep the rest where it belonged: in that tobacco tin buried in his chest where a red heart used to be. Its lid rusted shut. He would not pry it loose now in front of this sweet sturdy woman, for if she got a whiff of the contents it would shame him. And it would hurt her to know that there was no red heart bright as Mister's comb beating in him.

No more apologies for a bleeding heart when the opposite is no heart at all. Danger of losing our humanity must be met with more humanity. Otherwise we stand meekly behind Eris, hold Nemesis's cloak, and genuflect at the feet of Thanatos.

They had become an occasional mutter, like the interior sounds a woman makes when she believes she is alone and unobserved at her work: a sth when she misses the needle's eye; a soft moan when she sees another chip in her one good platter; the low friendly argument with which she greets the hens.

El amor no es nunca mejor que el amante. La gente inicua ama inicuamente, los violentos aman violentamente, las personas débiles aman débilmente, las estúpidas aman estúpidamente, pero el amor de un hombre libre nunca es seguro. El ser amado nunca se ve recompensado. Sólo el amante posee su don de amor. El ser amado es arrancado de sus raíces, neutralizado, congelado en el brillo de la mirada que el amante tiene vuelta hacia su propio interior.

The piece of sky she could glimpse was a dark carpet of gleaming knives pointed at her and aching to be released. She felt world-hurt—an awareness of malign forces changing her from a courageous adventurer into a fugitive.

lay it all down, sword and shield.

Borders, the porous places, the vulnerable points where one's concept of home is seen as being menaced be foreigners. Much of the alarm hovering at the borders, the gates, is stoked, it seems to me, by (1) both the threat and the promise of globalism and (2) na uneasy relationship with our own foreignness, our own rapidly disintegrating sense of belonging.

Fue una sombra la mayor parte de mi vida, una presencia que señalaba su propia ausencia, o tal vez la mía. Quién soy yo sin ella, esa niña desnutrida de ojos tristes que esperan. Cómo temblaba cuando nos escondimos de las paladas. Le tapé la cara, los ojos, con la esperanza de que no hubiera visto el pie que asomaba de la tumba

Each story has a monster in it who made them tough instead of brave, so they open their legs rather than their hearts where that folded child is tucked.

She slept in the bed with us. Frieda on the outside because she is brave—it never occurs to her that if in her sleep her hand hangs over the edge of the bed "something" will crawl out from under it and bite her fingers off. I sleep near the wall because that thought has occurred to me. Pecola, therefore, had to sleep in the middle.

Risky, thought Paul D, very risky. For a used-to-be-slave woman to love anything that much was dangerous.

For if Porter did not turn his head and lean toward the door to open it for her, Corinthians believed she would surely die. She banged her knuckles until they ached to get the attention of the living flesh behind the glass, and would have smashed her fist through the window just to touch him, feel his heat, the only thing that could protect her from a smothering death of dry roses.

He must rest his weight on his elbows when they make love, ostensibly to avoid hurting her breasts but actually to keep her from having to touch or feel too much of him. While

Ashamed of the insults that were being heaped on our friend, we just sat there: I picked toe jam, Frieda cleaned her fingernails with her teeth, and Pecola finger-traced some scars on her knee—her head cocked to one side.

The death of self-esteem can occur quickly, easily in children, before their ego has "legs," so to speak.