Quotes About Vulnerability

De lo que no cabía la menor duda era de que el amor te envenenaba, te embrutecía, te hacía cometer todo tipo de tonterías y desmesuras.

Era una pizca de persona, una mínima momia de boca desdentada y ojos encapotados por el velo lluvioso de la edad.

A saber de dónde saldrá esa necesidad absoluta que nos convierte a todos los escritores en eternos indigentes de la mirada ajena.

Abrazarme a su espalda por la noche y saber que no estaré sola nunca más. Querer y que te quieran, esa cosa tan bonita y tan sencilla que otras personas consiguen, pero yo

El dolor a veces te debilita y otras te protege, como un escudo. Pero el dolor es peligroso cuando se asienta dentro de uno, cuando se acomoda y decide quedarse, porque entonces se extiende, como aire contaminado, y no hay viento suficiente que lo limpie.

I can't deal with hidden undertows or unspoken feelings.

Matilde se la había dado todo. Pero eso un hombre no lo agradece nunca, eso se paga profiriendo un insulto. Otras mujeres esperaban su turno y serían menos torpes de lo que ella fue.

Y Rominka, al arrancarse la costra de sus pecados, lloraba. Porque duele quedar desnudo.

There is such fear and exhaustion in their eyes that Erich says to Roger Erdman one morning, I find it difficult to look at them. I agree, says Roger. Because it could be us on those hard benches. And that's what we're most afraid of - to look out there and see ourselves.

She'd told Gustav never to cry. But it seemed that this rule didn't apply to her, because there were times, late at night, when Gustav would creep out of his room to find Emilie weeping over the pages of the Matzlingerzeitung. At these moments, her breath often smelled of aniseed and she would be clutching a glass clouded with yellow liquid, and Gustav felt afraid of these things - of her aniseed breath and the dirty glass and his mother's tears.

And he understood that now, more than ever in his life, there was nothing and no one to cushion him from the hardness of the earth.

Hope has always struck me as the most tender of human emotions. It has no guarantee, it requires bravery, it makes the soul vulnerable, and when dashed it can inflict the graves of wounds.

Add a note This is what the love of God is like: it is free and therefore it is both all-powerful and completely vulnerable. All-powerful because it is always free to overcome, but vulnerable because it has no way of guaranteeing worldly success. The love of God belongs to a different order, not the order of power, manipulation and getting on top, which is the kind of power that pre-occupies us.

Do you have everything you need? No. She needed blinders to keep from staring at him, and a box of tissue to wipe the drool. Throw in some steel armour for her heart and a fail-safe chastity belt, and then she'd be good to go.

He brushes my cheek, wiping a tear. From the soul or whatever indefinable part of you makes you Annie. I like that part. The pad of his thumb circles my cheekbone, and I can't take my eyes off his.

It was very sad to see my father cry, but I understood it, because sometimes a man has to cry. Even if he is a man.

There is sorrow enough in the natural way From men and woman to fill our day; But when we are certain of sorrow in store, Why do we always arrange for more? Brothers & Sisters, I bid you beware Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.

The reason the beasts give among themselves is that Man is the weakest and most defenseless of all living things

Whatever he knows of his weaknesses, Private Mulvaney is wholly ignorant of his strength.

Man is the weakest and most defenseless of all living things, and it is unsportsmanlike to touch him.

Holden found one helpless little hand that closed feebly on his finger. And the clutch ran through his body till it settled about his heart. Till then his sole thought had been for Ameera. He began to realise that there was some one else in the world,...

Brothers and sisters, I bid you beware Of giving your heart to a dog to tear

Directly in front of him, holding on by a low branch, stood a naked brown baby who could just walk—as soft and as dimpled a little atom as ever came to a wolf's cave at night. He looked up into Father Wolf's face, and laughed.

Akela, the grim old wolf who had never asked for mercy in his life, gave one piteous look at Mowgli as the boy stood all naked, his long black hair tossing over his shoulders in the light of the blazing branch that made the shadows jump and quiver.