Quotes About Vulnerability

Tragedy admires man. Comedy feels a bit sorry for him.' We think we are kings or queens, masters of the universe or at least our own destiny. We forget that a foot may crush us, or that the wind may knock us down. We are not in control. We are subject to gas and sloughing skin and dirty pores. Most of our joints will eventually fail us. We have big brains which we can imagine great things, but we can't really get off the ground. It's like we have wings but we can't fly.

The greatest act of courage is to be and to own all of who you are — without apology, without excuses, without masks to cover the truth of who you are.

We're all risk averse creatures, aren't we? Like turtles, hiding in our little shells, trying to protect ourselves - never quite realising that we're protecting ourselves from the good stuff as well as the bad.

Sometimes, I think we're afraid to admit we want certain things. Especially things that contradict the image we have of ourselves.

we should lean into the pain, instead of running away from it.

At my age, a surprise can be hazardous to your health.

She had a feeling he could get into trouble in an empty room with all the doors and windows locked and one arm tied behind his back. Maybe both arms.

There was something very healing about being with someone you trusted absolutely--even if you couldn't share a future and you both knew it.

And as she talks, I concentrate on spreading out my substance, making myself spongy to absorb the puffiness into myself, to absorb the pain radiating through her feet and legs and back.

Then I made the cardinal mistake of showing and telling him and her how I felt. That pushed them closer together.

It was not like everyone had said. Not like being needed, or needing; not desperate; it did not whisper that I'd come to harm. I didn't lose my head. No, I was not going to leap from a great height and flap my wings. It was in fact the opposite of flying: it contained the wish to be toppled, to be on the floor, the ground, anywhere I might lie down. . . . On my back, and you on me.

The town stood witness to her fall As she crashed to the earth Exposed and utterly vulnerable Her secret lives, lies and truths Stained her skin and lay in mounds at her feet Her foes sat in judgment as a jury, But love came . . . with gentle hands Love dried her tears Love covered her shame Love sheltered her with compassion Love accepted her anyway Love embraced her Love welcomed her home.

How many times can your heat mend until it's broken beyond repair? --Deborah King

I will never stop grieving for my long-held wish for enduring love that does not reduce its major players to something less than they are.

to be forceful was not the same as being powerful and to be gentle was not the same as being fragile...

The young woman was a window waiting to be climbed through. A window that she guessed was a little broken anyway.

I am not okay. Not at all and haven´t been for some time. I did not tell her how discouraged I felt and that I was ashamed I was not more resilient an all the rest of it which included wanting a bigger life but that so far I had not been bold enough to make a bid for things I wanted to happen....

It's hard to write and be open and let things in when life is tough, but to keep everything out means there's nothing to work with.

To photograph people is to violate them, by seeing them as they never see themselves, by having knowledge of them they can never have; it turns people into objects that can be

Rose rested her pink eyes on my eyes. I removed my gaze like a traitor.

I might one day risk falling in love again, but I was not going to lose my heart to the cardiologist.

She had no God to plead to for mercy or luck. It would be true to say she depended instead on human kindness and painkillers.

I pursue my case, Monsieur, I speak English, Italian and German, and I want justice in all three languages. I have been damaged by unlove. It makes at inappropriate moments when I should be dignified.

She was not a poet. She was a poem. She was about to snap in half. He thought his own poetry had made her la la la la love him. It was unbearable.