Quotes About Vulnerability

What you have to realize is that crying is God's way of helping us wash away the pain. So don't you ever apologize for crying;

That was the problem with crowing too loudly. You gave away your position and made yourself vulnerable.

you're embarrassed to have it read, then you probably shouldn't be doing whatever you're writing about in the

Please don't give me words; give me a hug. Don't tell me that I'm holding up so well; break down with me and admit our shared wretchedness. Don't feign some bright mountaintop; walk with me through the dark valley where neither of us can utter a word.

It is us he saves, not our lives. It is the person he dies for, not the suit of clothes in which the person hides from the bare truth about himself. He does not save you or me as we dress ourselves up at high noon on a good day; he saves us only as we stumble naked and uncombed from lumpy mattress to cold shower after a long, hard night - as, that is, we limp in faith from the bed of our death, through the blood of the cross, to the joy of his resurrection.

If one's enemies know where you are, no matter how well protected you are, you can be gotten.

First there's the children's house of make believe,Some shattered dishes underneath a pine,The playthings in the playhouse of the children.Weep for what little things could make them glad.

Humor is the most engaging cowardice.

Something we were withholding made us weak, until we found out it was ourselves.

Hide-and-seek, grown-up style. Wanting to hide. Needing to be sought. Confused about being found.

When you are young, and beautiful, you can be very cruel.

Men looked so tragic when they cried.

If I've taken you for granted," said Strike, "I'm sorry. You're the best I've got." "Oh, for fuck's sake, Strike," said Robin, abandoning the pretense that she wasn't crying as she snorted back tears.

She had drawn strength from everyone else's weakness, hoping that her adrenaline-fueled bravery would carry her safely back to normality,

Strike registered the pronounced asymmetry of his pale blue eyes, one of which was a good centimeter higher than the other. It gave him an oddly vulnerable look, as though he had been finished in a hurry.

After a short pause, she said, "I don't think I'll be here for my next birthday, Corm." The words hit him like a punch in the diaphragm. "Don't say that." "If I can't say it to you, who can I say it to?

A lot of men find it hard to hear how well their other halves get on with other men.

Why did the memory of innocence sting so much, as you got older? Why did the memory of the child who'd thought she was invulnerable, who'd never known cruelty, give her more pain than pleasure?

He would never know what it was like to feel yourself small, weak and powerless. He would never understand what rape did to your feelings about your own body: to find yourself reduced to a thing, an object, a piece of fuckable meat.

but somehow, with the wind and rain whipping around them, an air of the confessional had descended upon the house.

Robin's personal experience of the wilder shores of sexual adventurousness was non-existent. She'd only ever had one sexual partner and had reasons beyond the usual for wishing to trust the person with whom she went to bed.

The women most readily drawn to Strike were, in Polworth's view, neurotic, chaotic and occasionally dangerous, and their fondness for the bent-nosed ex-boxer indicated a subconscious desire for something rocklike to which they could attach themselves like limpets.

Sometimes she found casual physical contact with men almost unbearable

If you're going to treat me like some piece of special-occasion china that gets taken out when you don't think I'll get hurt, we're—we're doomed.