Quotes About Vulnerability

Their hearts were wrung with anguish, the anguish of having children, a vulnerability as astonishing as the capacity for love that parenthood brings ... [426]

Throughout the act, headlights came on across the field, sweeping over them, lighting up the goal-post. Lux said, in the middle, I always screw things up. I always do and began to sob. Trip Fontaine told us a little more. We asked him if he put her in the cab but he said no. I walked home that night. I didn;t care how she got home. I just took off. Then: It's weird. I mean, I liked her I really liked her. I just got sick of her right then.

hearts wrung with anguish, the anguish of having children, a vulnerability as astonishing as the capacity for love that parenthood brings.

He felt as if he were being violently emptied out, as if a big magnet were pulling his blood and fluids down into the earth. He was weeping again, unstoppably, his head like the chandelier in his grandparents' house in Buffalo, the one that was too high for them to reach and that every time he visited had one fewer bulb alight. His head was an old chandelier, going dark.

A szörny mindig onnét támad, ahonnan a legkevésbé sem várnánk.

Az életek is úgy repednek meg, ahogy a jég. Személyiségek. Egyéniségek.

She walked to the cupboard, then stopped and folded her hands behind her. "It's private. Do you mind?" she said, and Peter Sissen sped down the stairs, blushing, and after thanking Mr. and Mrs. Lisbon, hurried off to tell us that Lux Lisbon was bleeding between the legs that very instant, while the fish flies made the sky filthy and the streetlamps came on.

Hoping for Lux to appear, the most naked person with clothes on he had ever seen.

all the healing was done by those of us without wounds.

I was extracted, spanked, and hosed off, in that order. They wrapped me in a blanket and put me on display among six other infants, four boys, two girls, all of them, unlike me, correctly tagged. This can't be true but I remember it: sparks slowly filling a dark screen. Someone had switched on my eyes.

A few of us grew brave enough to insert our legs between theirs and to press our agony against them.

Ilyenek a férfiak. Úgy mutatják ki az érzelmeiket, hogy rád telepszenek, akár a koporsófedél. És még ezt hívják szerelemnek.

I remember the first time we took off our clothes in front of each other. It was like unwinding bandages. I was as much of a man as Olivia could bear at that point. I was her starter kit.

Just someone who knows, from personal experience, how attractive it can be to think you can save somebody else by loving them.

It's a kind of fugue state, anyway, early sex. Before the routine sets in, or the love. Back when the groping is largely anonymous. Sandbox sex. It starts in the teens and lasts until twenty or twenty-one. It's all about learning to share. It's about sharing your toys.

Looking back now, I can only remember a time when the world seemed to have a million eyes, silently opening wherever I went. Most of the time they were camouflaged, like the closed eyes of green lizards in green trees. But then they snapped open—on the bus, in the pharmacy—and I felt the intensity of all that looking, the desire and the desperation.

That was when Leonard realized something crucial about depression. The smarter you were, the worse it was. The sharper your brain, the more it cut you up. As

She had the rectitude, Joe Hill Conley later said, of someone who had just come from weeping in the next room.

We went outside with our hair wet in the hopes of catching flu ourselves so that we might share their delirium.

He was a boy composed of pieces just loosely held together, and the centrifugal spin of this latest terror could pull his loose bits apart. No magical belief in hummingbirds and glowworms could put him back together if that happened

I'm sitting opposite you in the bar, waiting for you to uncross your boundaries. I want to rip off your logic and make passionate sense to you. I want to ride in the swing of your hips. My fingers will dig in you like quotation marks, blazing your limbs into parts of speech.

I'm the person who says every single thing she thinks, sometimes to others' amusement, and almost always to my detriment.

You don't have to be a writer, though, to know that making fun of yourself is a good way to deflect being made fun of. Like many people, I am hypercritical about myself so that I beat the haters to the punch. When I acknowledge my foibles first, no one else can use them against me. I've taken away everyone else's power to make me feel less about myself by doing it first.

I'm terrified that one offhand joke, one out-of-context remark, will set into motion a public shaming, because I see it happen every day.