Quotes About Vulnerability

I've become so much more comfortable divulging things I've never talked about before, honing in on certain relationships that everyone can relate to.

I could really make a song of hurt, because I've been hurt by a lot of men. I'm talking about, like, how sad I be when a dude curves me. And I never talk about that because I refuse to let people know that I get sad because when a man don't answer my calls.

Talking about my deepest and darkest secrets to the world makes me feel better. It's cathartic.

If you don't feel comfortable talking about really personal things in your music, you shouldn't do it. There's plenty of other things to write about.

I'm just so comfortable talking about my private life: I just think because I'm not that clever.

I believe man is stripped naked when he's in conversation with God. Your deepest fears, strongest desires, highest hopes - they're all there when you are talking to God.

I want to be an actor, I am just not very comfortable talking about myself.

The dilemma I have is that everything I do at work is all about me, and at what point is that selfish? I'm just talking and singing about myself, or I'm standing on a stage and hoping that everybody likes me. Obviously, it's also about the music and feeling and connecting; I know it's deeper than that.

The only person really at risk at any of my talks is me.

When somebody openly talks about having depression, it's a very brave thing to do.

I don't consider myself sexy. I'm kind of a nervous person in general. I'm socially awkward. I'm not tall and sensuous. I usually wear sweats everywhere I go. Oh, and I burp a lot.

You know I don't want to fall. I'm a tall woman, and it's a long way down.

I feel like my objective in music is to take a hammer and nail and chip away a piece of my heart and give it to someone, so I feel, with merch, it's a tangible parallel of that.

I'm not really a storyteller myself - I tend to get all tangled up when I try and tell stories.

Confession is a difficult discipline for us, because we all too often view the believing community as a fellowship of saints before we see it as a fellowship of sinners. We feel that everyone else has advanced so far into holiness that we are isolated and alone in our sin.

Power is dangerous unless you have humility.

Simple Prayer involves ordinary people bringing ordinary concerns to a loving and compassionate Father. There is no pretense in Simple Prayer. We do not pretend to be more holy, more pure, or more saintly than we actually are. We do not try to conceal our conflicting and contradictory motives from God—or ourselves. And in this posture we pour out our heart to the God who is greater than our heart and who knows all things (1 John 3:20).

God, what is man's best gift to mankind? To be beautiful of soul and then let people see into your soul.

The offering of ourselves can only be the offering of our lived experience, because this alone is who we are. And who we are—not who we want to be—is the only offering we have to give. We give God therefore not just our strengths but also our weaknesses, not just our giftedness but also our brokenness.

But when we choose to be a servant, we give up the right to be in charge. There is great freedom in this. If we voluntarily choose to be taken advantage of, then we cannot be manipulated. When we choose to be a servant, we surrender the right to decide who and when we will serve. We become available and vulnerable.

You see, by dint of will people can make a good showing for a time, but sooner or later there will come that unguarded moment when the "careless word" will slip out to reveal the true condition of the heart.

It is a hallow feeling to be in the company of someone with whom we long to have a satisfying personal exchange, only to watch hope dissolve as the time together is drained by superficial chatter or surface distractions.

Every woman needs one man in her life who is strong and responsible. Given this security, she can proceed to do what she really wants to do-fall in love with men who are weak and irresponsible.

Maybe the real is the way your palms fit against my face, or the way you hold my life inside you until it is nothing at all, the way this plant droops, this flower called Heart's Bursting Flower, with its beads of red hanging from their delicate threads any breeze might break, any word might shatter, any hurt might crush. — Richard Jackson, Superstition Review issue 2 fall 2008