Quotes About Vulnerability

He had never said her name. Indeed, he couldn't say it. Not because he's forgotten it. Mot certainly he hadn't forgotten it. It was the dread of the capitulation of it, of the handing over of himself in it, of what it might take from him to pay her the compliment of letting her know he really knew her name.

Certainly I knew the feeling of shame and I knew everybody around me knew that feeling as well. In no way was it a weak feeling, for it seemed more potent than anger, more potent than hatred, stronger even than that most disguised of emotions, fear.

You'd better be careful then,' said friend, which was what everybody said. People always said you'd better be careful. Though how, when things are out of your hands, when things were never really in your hands, when things are stacked against you, does a person – the little person down here on the earth – be that?

They were a double-page spread of a woman with long dark, unruly hair, wearing stockings, suspenders, something too, black and lacy. She was smiling out at me, leaning back and opening up for me, which was when I skidded and lost balance, catching full view of her monosyllable as I fell down on the path.

Bilmemkim McBilmemkim'in gö?süme silah dayay?p bana kedi dedi?i ve beni ölümle tehdit etti?i gün, sütçü'nün de öldü?ü gündü.

He had never said her name. Indeed, he couldn't say it. Not because he'd forgotten it. Mot certainly he hadn't forgotten it. It was the dread of the capitulation of it, of the handing over of himself in it, of what it might take from him to pay her the compliment of letting her know he really knew her name.

The part of me that is untouchable today should never have been touched.

You promise to stop if I say so?" she asked doubtfully, even while she lay down. "I promise. Though never trust anything a man tells you when he's got his head between your legs.

He'd always loved how she fought him. He loved the crackle and spark of her wit. Now he discovered he also loved the way she lay against him in what felt like perfect trust. … Antonia was a tall, vital woman, no shrinking miss. Now she felt brittle and vulnerable. He tightened his hold and told himself the surge of protectiveness meant nothing. Again he couldn't quite believe it.

Open your mouth, tesoro." He angled her face higher. "Open your mouth for me." At his raw demand, her eyes flared wide. For a drunken moment, he drowned in glorious brown, rich, autumnal, sensual.

What on earth was wrong with her? One would imagine she'd never been alone with a man, when her duties on the estate had her dealing with males of various degree from morning to night. None made her feel the way she felt dangling off Lord Lyle's elegant hand. She swallowed, her throat so tight that it hurt. Dear heavens, she was in trouble. And for once in her life, she felt helpless to rescue herself. "Watch

She swallowed, sent him a wild look, and rushed out. The slam of the door echoed through the empty corridor as she collapsed breathless against the wall outside his room. In a futile attempt to quiet her galloping heart, she pressed one trembling hand to her heaving chest. What in Hades must Lyle make of her bizarre behavior? He must think her raving mad. Right now, she was inclined to agree. Charlotte

She straightened her back another degree, even as Merrick's eyelids sank lower. He looked half asleep but he remained alert to everything around him, including her increasingly frail resistance. Good heavens, he didn't have to watch her to confirm her vulnerability. Hadn't she just let him kiss her into a stupor? He hadn't mentioned the kisses. Nor had she. But every time she met his glinting silver eyes, she remembered the shocking intimacy of his tongue in her mouth.

Good God, simply tell the girl how you feel," Silverton advised, clearly exasperated. "You cannot spend your life brooding about her behind marble pillars and potted plants. It's undignified." Nigel

She trembled under his hand. "You don't need to manhandle me." "I mightn't need to, but I'd certainly like to," he purred and was rewarded with another beguiling blush. Jonas couldn't recall the last time he'd consorted with a woman innocent enough to blush.

He was looking at her. At her... there . She couldn't mistake the unalloyed yearning on his face as he knelt between her white thighs. It should disgust her. He should disgust her. But the idea of him seeing that hidden part of her made her shake with raw excitement.

He should laugh, tease, treat her lightly, keep her guessing. But instead his words rang with unstrategic truth. "I remember everything you've ever said to me.

Love, it seemed, made beasts of men. How wise he'd been to avoid it all these years.

Open your mouth, tesoro." He angled her face higher. "Open your mouth for me." At his raw demand, her eyes flared wide. For a drunken moment, he drowned in glorious brown, rich, autumnal, sensual. "O-open...?" He took advantage and claimed her, sliding his tongue into the interior. She made a sound of surprise and tried to back off. "No." "Bella, don't be afraid.

I want to know you're mine," he grated. "Of course I'm yours." She heard the despair in her voice. If he only knew how true those words were. "When I'm inside you, like this, I know that." His unexpected vulnerability breached her barriers against revealing her love. "It's always true," she confessed, pressing upward, frustration fizzing in her blood. "Make me believe it.

In order to satirize adequately, I think you need to bring people down to Earth and be like, 'Yeah, these people drink coffee and have tummy troubles and they go to the bathroom like anybody else, and they all have relationship problems, if they even have relationships.'

I think we can learn a lot about a person in the very moment that language fails them. In the very moment they they have to be more creative than they would have imagined in order to communicate. It's the very moment that they have to dig deeper than the surface to find words, and at the same time, it's a moment when they want to communicate very badly. They're digging deep and projecting out at the same time.

We can learn a lot about a person in the very moment that language fails them.

Being alone is a choice. It's how we protect ourselves, and it's how we give up when it feels too hard to keep fighting to belong.