Quotes About Vulnerability

I always try to say what I'm thinking, what I'm feeling, and without fear of what others will say or think, and that's how I've always lived. Sometimes, this has ended up hurting me, and other times, it has helped me, but I think you can never forget who you are, and I've always been myself, and that one of the things I'm most proud of.

One thing that I am proud of: I am really capable of laughing at myself.

I never believe in going to America with my show reel and knocking on every agent's door. I couldn't even do it. I'm way too insecure and too proud.

When you run for president, and become president, they just rip you apart. Every facade of privacy that you have is gone. I think everybody believes that, to some extent, you can maintain privacy. And I think in the end, everybody gets proven wrong.

We busted a lot of family secrets with this. But to make a long story short, my parents relationship was built heavily on security issues for my Mom, and when my Dad couldn't provide security, the relationship unraveled.

Upon my knees i say 'You used me' And I feel dirty from your touch

The heart is capable of sacrifice. So is the vagina. The heart is able to forgive and repair. It can change it's shape to let us in. It can expand to let us out. So can the vagina. It can ache for us and stretch for us, die for us and bleed and bleed us into this difficult, wondrous world. So can the vagina. I was there in the room. I remeber.

To love women, to love our vaginas, to know them and touch them and be familiar with who we are and what we need. To satisfy ourselves, to teach our lovers to satisfy us, to be present in our vaginas, to speak of them out loud, to speak of their hunger and pain and loneliness and humor, to make them visible so they cannot be ravaged in the dark without great consequence, so that our center, our point, our motor, our dream, is no longer detached, mutilated, numb, broken, invisible, or ashamed.

When we make love, it's going to be making love. I want more than just your amazing body, Autumn. I want all of you." She felt him swallow against the top of her head. "I don't know who broke your heart, but I'm going to earn your trust. And we will make love.

You can't ever tell what's going to hurt people.

He was entrancing, with that epicene beauty which in extreme youth sings aloud for love and withers at the first cold wind.

It was dead contrary to the common experience of such encounters, when time is found to have built its own defensive lines, camouflaged vulnerable points, and laid a field of mines across all but a few well-trodden paths, so that, more often than not, we can only signal to one another from either side of the tangle of wire. Here she and I, who were never friends before, met on terms of long and unbroken intimacy

What people are ashamed of usually makes a good story.

In my younger and more vulnerables years..

She smiled at him, making sure that the smile gathered up everything inside her and directed it toward him, making him a profound promise of herself for so little, for the beat of a response, the assurance of a complimentary vibration in him.

Love is fragile -- she was thinking -- but perhaps the pieces are saved, the things that hovered on lips, that might have been said. The new love-words, the tenderness learned, and treasured up for the next lover.

Draw your chair up close to the edge of the precipice and I'll tell you a story.

All she wanted was to be a little girl, to be efficiently taken care of by some yielding yet superior power, stupider and steadier than herself. It seemed that the only lover she had ever wanted was a lover in a dream

He's sensitive and I don't want him to break his heart over somebody who doesn't care about him.

It isn't given to us to know those rare moments when people are wide open and the lightest touch can wither or heal. A moment too late and we can never reach them any more in this world. They will not be cured by our most efficacious drugs or slain with our sharpest swords.

Men don't often know those times when a girl could be had for nothing.

Don't be so anxious about it,' she laughed. 'I'm not used to being loved. I wouldn't know what to do; I never got the trick of it.' She looked down at him, shy and fatigued. 'So here we are. I told you years ago that I had the makings of Cinderella.' He took her hand; she drew it back instinctively and then replaced it in his. 'Beg your pardon. Not even used to being touched. But I'm not afraid of you, if you stay quiet and don't move suddenly.

Life cracked like ice!

I'm not used to being loved. I wouldn't know what to do.