Quotes About Vulnerability

What we have most to fear is failure of the heart.

Help me, Sandy. Listen to my talk. Hold my hand when I git too sad. Laugh at my fears that keep poppin' out on me like some childhood disease. Be my vaccine, babee. I need you. Don't ever leave me, babee, cuz I'll never have a love like you again. I'll never have another woman again if you leave me.

Affection makes fools. Always, without exception, love digs a channel that's sooner or later flooded by the briny water of despair.

Watching, she had felt unusually and keenly alive, alive the way a knife is sharp, so that the humiliation she was enduring was perfect, like the paring of skin from a hard apple.

I looked along the aisle and saw her, and it was as if I saw her for the first time. Everything changed. The ancient featureless interior of me spangled orange, mint, cat-blue. I looked back to the window immediately, my face damp, my breath caught. And worried I would never have the courage to look at her again.

it's stupid to be that way, so easily hurt; it's better to be like a plank of wood, an emotional mule. It's best not to feel,...best to have your nerve endings cauterized.

I felt dry as if someone had skinned me. I was not the bones and meat, but the cast-aside skin. The heat had hollowed me.

I know this sounds incredibly lame, but I don't want losing my virginity to feel like I'm losing something. I want it to feel like I'm finding something. I want sex to be amazing. I want it to be life-alteringly wonderful. And I want it to happen with someone I love.

Ready or not, here I come I'm so tired of this dumb game of hide and seek Olly olly oxen free Show yourself, you're scaring me Come out, come out, where ever you are You've taken this thing way too far

If you haven't cried, your eyes cannot be beautiful

I'm a sucker for sad disco pop.

Weak people always attack strong people - it's safer. It's weak people who are dangerous, who lash out uncontrollably and hurt you back. Stong people can walk away - no repercussions, you see, if you attack a stong person.

Its weak people who are dangerous, who lash out uncontrollably and hurt you back. Strong people can walk away- no repercussions, you see, if you attack a strong person.

We manufacture anger to give ourselves the illusion of power when we feel weak and helpless.

Allow a person to affect your emotions and your judgment suffered, always.

los más débiles son los que más gritan y los que más hacen sufrir a los demás.

it really struck me that, just as people might look at me and never imagine I'd worked as a prostitute, they must look at some of those girls and see only the alienation and disaffection that hides their on fears and hurt.

I touch his cheek, see my hand shake, and quickly pull it back. He grabs my wrist, places my palm back against his cheek, and closes his eyes like he's in agony. Or bliss. Or maybe both. Like he's never been touched before.

He may be stronger, but I'm not defenseless. He knows that, of coarse. That's why he's here. He wants me for what I can do after all.

You're scared," he said quietly. "Scared?" I scoffed. "Of what?" "Of anything real. And what we have is real. You love me and it terrifies you." "I don't love you," I lied. He grabbed my face then, dragging me closer with both hands. "You love me. I know you do. I know it because I can see it in your eyes . . . in the way you look at me." He inhaled. "It's the same way I look at you.

Kicking off my shoes, I climed in beside him. I eased toward him. His body radiated heat in the bed. I relaxed, inching closer, burrowing the tip of my nose against his back, savoring the clean smell of his skin, fresh from the shower. His voice rumled through his back toward me. "Hey, your nose is cold." I grinned ahainst his skin. "How about my feet?" I wedged them between his calves. He hissed. "Get some socks on, woman.

His blue eyes drilled into me. "Why are you doing this?" I shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't know." He shook his head once like that wasn't good enough. "Why are you here?" His fingers shifted, the tips sending hot little sparks up my arm. He should look ridiculous with the blue washcloth covering half his face, but he didn't. He looked human and male and all too vulnerable right then. "Because you need someone.

Me di cuenta de que junto a él, yo era lo más fuerte y lo más débil que podía ser. Y pensé que eso es el amor: cuando te expones en toda tu vulnerabilidad.

His hands lifted and slid over my tear-soaked cheeks, holding me almost tenderly. He looked troubled. There was no other word for it. "I don't know what it is you do to me." I do something to him? His voice continued, a dark little whisper rushing over my lips. "But I'm not going to fight it anymore.