Quotes About Vulnerability

I would feel deeply the elegant satisfaction of being caressed by that gawky boy, and I would take his face in both my hands and kiss him hard, as if I could draw from those lips the very strength and sweetness he did not know he had.

You don't know me, but I know about you...I can't make you live longer. I can't stop you from hurting. But I can give you one wish, as someone did for me.

Can I make myself any clearer? I can't live without you. I don't know what to call it, but if it isn't love, I don't know what is. So stop looking down your prim little nose at me and say you'll marry me so I don't have to kill myself

When we pushed away from the moorings various parents waved from the porch and others clustered on the dock. We rushed, worried that they'd betray us with last-minute asinine chitchat. Sure enough, one dimwit yelled: "Did you remember your inhaler?" (Two of us were asthmatics.) "Shut up! Shut up!" we implored, hands over ears. None of us wanted to see a man go down that way. "And what about the EpiPens?" shouted the low-status mother.

He'd seen firsthand how raw parenting made you. Might as well strip your clothes off and run down High Street in a hail of gunfire. That was being a parent.

One man's weakness is another man's mercy.

At times, when a deer saw a man walking in a forest, he might prick his ears up and stand still as a statue. Waiting. Wary. Meaning no harm. What are you? asked his ears. And oh. What am I? Sometimes the answer was, You're dead. And the deer crumpled to his knees.

At times, when a deer saw a man walking in the forest, he might prick up his ears and stand still as a statue. Waiting. Wary. Meaning no harm. What are you? asked his ears. And oh. What am I? Sometimes the answer was, You're dead. And the deer crumpled to his knees.

Helplessness was the one true fountain of youth.

Some nights looking at him scares me so bad I can hardly move and I start doing a prayer for protection. But when the thing that is scaring you is already Jesus, who are you supposed to pray to?

The vulnerable image encouraged the pathos woven into her popularity. How the public loves wounded genius! How it loves her all the more if she be unmated, seething with love denied, an all-time poet unrecognised in her lifetime. But the Emily Dickinson who speaks through her letters makes no concession to helplessness.

It's a very brave thing for anyone to do, offering love to another person. We make ourselves so vulnerable when we do it, don't we? We give that other person such power to hurt us and to rob us of our dignity. No one should ever belittle that gift, nor the giver.

If Jessica had been pleased with his work, that was enough. He had bent to his work and poured his entire soul, black as it might have been, into fashioning something beautiful for his lady. His lady. He could no longer think of her as anything else. And that was the thought that left him standing in the lists, useless and fair blinded by the thought of his poor heart being so exposed.

I am not a gentle man," Richard said, against her mouth. "Uh-huh," she said as he lifted her in his arms. "Nor am I a practiced lover," he said as he carried her across the room. "Nobody's perfect," she managed as he lowered her to the bed. "But I do love you," he said as he stretched out next to her and leaned over her. "And I will give you the best that I have.

You're trembling," he said. "I think I'm scared." "But why?" He smoothed his hand over her hair. "I was a fool to have left you alone, but it won't happen again." "I've never had anyone try to kill me before." Richard patted her back gently. "'Tis a bit unnerving the first time.

We are candles, I remember thinking, and the wind is rising.

The Spring can be more painful than any other time of the year. Summer is lazy and indifferent. Autumn is demanding and invigorating. Winter is numb and self-contained, but Spring has none of the palliatives. Every emotional nerve is close to the surface. Every sound and sight, every touch of the air is a summons to feel, to open your doors, to let life possess you and do what it likes with you.

When I was your age I met a man older than myself, quite a bit older. I fell in love with him. Really in love. I know people say it's just puppy love at that age, but I was in love properly. It lasted for years. It was the most powerful feeling I can ever remember. At that age one has no defenses. It just overwhelmed me.

L'insulto é l'arma del debole.

I'm mortal. You really don't want me falling down stairs and breaking my neck. I'd catch you, he assured her solemnly. I'll always be there to catch you, Inez.

He had never fainted in his life, and while he knew it was this whole life-mate, mind-blowing-sex business, it was still damned demoralizing to be fainting like a breathless virgin at the end of every encounter.

Divine had meant to try to shut her mind off from his sooner than she had, but had got wrapped up in the passion she'd so carefully stirred to life in them both and left it just that one second or two too long. Instead of remaining conscious as she'd hoped, she'd ended up passing out with him.

funny thing about people. The ones who seem strong and mouth off the most, or bully others, are usually the ones most terrified and weakest inside. And the ones who seem quiet and speak their fears, appearing the weakest, are often the strongest under it all.

If you are afraid, or if you feel hurt by something, I want you to tell me, and between the two of us we shall do whatever it takes to see you are happy.