Quotes About Vulnerability

All I think about when I'm with friends is having a good time. I can't bring myself to talk about anything but ordinary everyday things. We don't seem to be able to get any closer, and that's the problem. Maybe it's my fault that we don't confide in each other. In any case, that's just how things are, and unfortunately they're not liable to change.

when you're standing beside an open window at twilight, you can say more to each other than in bright sunshine. It's also easier to whisper your feelings than to shout them from the rooftops.

Not being able to go outside upsets me more than I can say, and I'm terrified our hiding place will be discovered and that we'll be shot. That, of course, is a fairly dismal prospect.

Uneori mi se pare foarte trist c? nu putem m?rturisi nim?nui, nici m?car oamenilor care ne sunt cei mai apropia?i, ce avem pe suflet.

Mi-e team? de mine îns?mi, mi-e team? ca, în dorinÈ›a mea, s? nu m? d?ruiesc prea repede.

Can you tell me why people go to such lengths to hide their real selves? Or why I always behave differently when I'm in the company of others? Why do people have such little trust in one another? I know there must be a reason, but sometimes I think it's horrible that you can't confide in anyone, not even those closest to you.

it's easier for me to say what I mean as on paper than face-to-face.

It's just that when you're standing beside an open window at twilight, you can say more to each other than in bright sunshine. It's also easier to whisper your feelings than to shout them from the rooftops.

It's an odd idea for someone like me to keep a diary; not only because i have never done so before, but because it seems to me that neither I -nor for that matter anyone else- will be interested in the unbosomings of a thirteen year old schoolgirl. Still, what does that matter? I want to write, but more than that, I want to bring out all kinds of things that lie burried deep in my heart.

Me da mucho miedo pensar en todas las personas con quienes me he sentido siempre tan íntimamente ligada y que ahora están en manos de los más crueles verdugos que hayan existido jamás. Y todo por ser judíos.

Can you tell me why people go to such lengths to hide their real selves? Or why I always behave very differently when I'm in the company of others? Why do people have so little trust in one another? I know there must be a reason, but sometimes I think it's horrible that you can't ever confide in anyone, not even those closest to you.

I can't let them see my doubts, or the wounds they've inflicted on me. I couldn't bear their sympathy or their good-humored derision.

I wonder whether you can tell me why it is that people always try so hard to hide their real feelings?

It gave me a wonderful feeling when I looked into his dark blue eyes and saw how bashful my unexpected visit had made him. I could read his innermost thoughts, and in his face, I saw a look of helplessness and uncertainty as to how to behave, and at the same time a flicker of awareness of his masculinity. I saw his shyness, and I melted. I wanted to say, Tell me about yourself. Look beneath my chatty exterior. But I found that it was easier to think up questions than to ask them.

Then the time would come once more when I no longer listened for the steps on the stairs and felt lonely and cried into my pillow every night.

I'm awfully scared that everyone who knows me as I always am will discover that I have another side, a finer and better side. I'm afraid they'll laugh at me, think I'm ridiculous and sentimental, not take me seriously. I'm used to not being taken seriously but it's only the lighthearted Anne that's used to it and can bear it; the deeper Anne is too frail for it.

Samstag, 22. Januar 1944 (...) Kannst du mir vielleicht erzählen, wie es kommt, dass alle Menschen ihr Inneres so ängstlich verbergen? (...) Warum vertraut der eine dem anderen so wenig? Ich weiß, es wird einen Grund dafür geben, aber manchmal finde ich es sehr schlimm, dass man nirgends, selbst bei den Menschen, die einem am nächsten stehen, ein wenig Vertraulichkeit findet.

You're only human. You don't have to have it together every minute of the day.

You're only human. You don't have to have it together every minute of every day.

you're only human. you dont have to have it together every minute of everyday

People seem always actually to know, with a degree of pain that has required the comfort of fairy tales, that when you are dressed in any particular way at all, you are revealed rather than hidden.

Because this business of becoming conscious, of being a writer, is ultimately about asking yourself, How alive am I willing to be?

She said to go ahead and feel the feelings. I did. They felt like shit.

because when people have seen you at their worst, you don't have to put on the mask as much.