Quotes About Vulnerability

I see a real yogi as a someone who is committed to growth and to being the best version of themselves, and, at the same time, is courageous enough to be fully present and authentic in each moment. Someone who is not afraid to get real about the whole mess of who they are - the good, the bad, and the ugly

E acabei por ir a casa dela para lhe configurar o sistema todo. — Harry, «configuraste-lhe o sistema todo»? — perguntei, arregalando os olhos e fingindo-me pasmado. Baixou o olhar, mas não conseguiu esconder um sorriso. — Tu percebeste. — Não vais... penetrar as seguranças dela, pois não? — perguntei, incapaz de resistir.

I suddenly realize that I'm naked, which shouldn't bother me since it's the phone, but for some reason it does. "How's it hanging?" Kyra asks and now I think I'm blushing. It's just an expression, but jeez!

Love makes you weak. This I know for sure. Mom loved Roger. Roger loved Mom.And look what happpened there. She died. She thought her love made her strong. She kept telling me-after she was diagnosed-she ket telling me, "I'm going to beat this Kyra. I'm going to come out of it. I love you and I love your father and that love is my strength. You're my strength.

If you don't feel anything, you can't be hurt.

You can't rely on love. Love will let you down every time. Every. Single. Time.

His safe haven had turned into an ambush.

I surrender. Sometimes I feel like that's all I do with her.

Women always cried. It was their last, best weapon. It made boyfriends apologize and husbands fold them in their arms. It made Daddy spend the extra money on the prom dress.

She listened to me and didn't try to fix things. She was open and kind, and when she raised her eyebrows, I thought my heart would stop beating in my chest....I treated her like a remedy, not a person.

I could have lied to you. It would have been a lot easier. I could have told you I was gay. Or blamed my dad, or my religion. I could have said that I had a boyfriend back in Baltimore. Because guys will listen when you tell them you belong to someone else. Like, you'll respect some made-up guy, but not me. I thought you were different. I trusted you. I told you the truth.

Sometimes in storm weather the shore had fluttered with disabled swallows. They crouched lower for his approach, without strength to escape. In his hands they pulsed with that same pulse. He had taken a bird and warmed it between his hands or inside his jacket, brought the life back until it was able to fly. Sometimes, released from his hands, they circled once around him before flying away; in gratitude, or so the child had believed--and the belief had survived all the man's science.

Those confiding their pain cannot know at the outset how much they will be required to relive it.

It's not about love. Of course I love the little shit. But he knows too much about me that no one else on the planet knows, and when he's around I have no choice but to think about everything I hate about myself and my past. He's a gangrenous leg attached to my psyche, and I need to hack him off before he infects my whole fucking soul.

But, Jesus, Tommy, what do you expect me to say? I grew up with you. When we were kids your fly was open more often than the twenty-four-hour laundromat. If your dick had been a gun you could have outdrawn Doc Holliday.

Blessed are the weak who think that they are good because they have no claws.

Blessed are the weak who think they are good because they have no claws.

Never underestimate the kick to the groin.

Everyone underestimates the kick to the groin.

How can you be afraid to feel? Isn't fear a feeling? If you're feeling fear, you've felt one of the most negative emotions there is to feel. Everything else should be a piece of cake.

Real intimacy is a place where there are no mistakes, at least not in the sense you feel. You don't just blow everything with one wrong move.

It was the woman who first began to grope for the mysteries of the other's soul. She took his head in her hands and held it as though it were a large and heavy fruit, gathered in the sun.

Our vulnerability is unavoidable (and probably incurable) in a kind of society in which relative equality of political and other rights and formally acknowledged social equality go hand in hand with enormous differences in genuine power, possessions and education; a society in which everyone "has the right" to consider himself equal to everybody else, while in fact being unequal to them.

Americans are cool if you show just a chink of vulnerability, they respond so much. They'll pat you on the arm and say, 'Hey kid, you're all right.' Brits will respond but they are much more cynical.