Quotes About Vulnerability

Tunsin itseni veltoksi ja hylätyksi, olin kuin jonkin pelottavan eläimen luoma nahka. Oli helpotus päästää irti eläimestä, mutta se näytti vieneen mukanaan minun sieluni ja kaiken muun, mihin se saattoi iskeä kyntensä.

I didn't want my picture taken because I was going to cry. I didn't know why I was going to cry, but I knew that if anybody spoke to me or looked at me too closely the tears would fly out of my eyes and the sobs would fly out of my throat and I'd cry for a week

And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter - they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long. Yes, there is joy, fulfillment and companionship - but the loneliness of the soul in its appalling self-consciousness, is horrible and overpowering.

I am terrified even to have known him, he makes all others mere puny fragments.

As long as men have ideals, as long as they are vulnerable, there is this power to create a dream for them.

I am a wound walking out of hospital. I am a wound that they are letting go

I want to taste and glory in each day, and never be afraid to experience pain; and never shut myself up in a numb core of non-feeling, or stop questioning and criticizing life and take the easy way out.

Quando infine trovi qualcuno in cui senti di poter riversare la tua anima, ti blocchi di colpo davanti alle tue stesse parole - le hai tenute dentro così a lungo, contratte nel buio, che sono ormai sbiadite, brutte, banali, fiacche. Sì, c'è l'allegria, l'autorealizzazione, lo stare insieme: ma la solitudine dell'anima, nella sua spaventosa consapevolezza, è insopportabile, soverchiante.

Wear your heart on your skin in this life." ? Sylvia Plath, Johnny Panic and the Bible of Dreams: Short Stories, Prose and Diary Excerpts

Tulipány by mÄ›ly být v kleci, je to divoká zv??; otevírají se jako tlama nÄ›jaké velké africké Å¡elmy a pojednou vím, že mám srdce: otvírá, zavírá vázu svých rudých kvÄ›t?, ?istÄ› jen z lásky ke mnÄ›. Když ochutnám vodu, je teplá a slaná a te?e sem ze zemÄ› daleké jako zdraví.

It is a terrible thing to be so open: it is as if my heart put on a face and walked into the world

This part of the woman in me, the concrete, present, immediate part, which needs the warmth of her man in bed and her man eating with her and her man thinking and communing with her soul: this part still cries to you:

I cut you out because I couldn't stand being a passing fancy. Before I give my body, I must give my thoughts, my mind, my dreams. And you weren't having any of those.

There is a charge For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge For the hearing of my heart— It really goes. And there is a charge, a very large charge For a word or a touch Or a bit of blood Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.

There are the clothes of a fat woman I do not know. There is my comb and brush. There is an emptiness. I am so vulnerable suddenly. I am a wound walking out of hospital. I am a wound they are letting go. I leave my health behind. I leave someone Who would adhere to me: I undo her fingers like bandages: I go. (Three Women)

we overheard one girl say to another: "Betsy is depressed today." It seems almost an incredible relief to know that there is someone outside oneself who is not happy all the time. We must be at low ebb when we are this far into the black: that everyone else, merely because they are "other", is invulnerable. That is a damn lie.

And get this, I'm with you. Don't stop talking to me, please. It's as important as if we were the only people alive . . . .

Seeking security comes from insecurity, which is based in fear.

My mother would take the Band-Aid off, clean the wound, and say, "Things that are covered don't heal well." Mother was right. Things that are covered do not heal well.

Sometimes what makes us insecure and vulnerable becomes the fuel we need to be overachievers. The antidote for a snakebite is made from the poison, and the thing that made you go backward is the same force that will push you forward.

Our grown-up was dinged and damaged.  One of us was only thirteen and knew far less than he thought he did, and the eleven-year-old among us had to work to keep from whining. I wanted my mother in a powerful way, which I made a brave attempt to hide.

It will do you no harm to find yourself ridiculous. Resign yourself to be the fool you are... ...We must always take risks. That is our destiny...

We must try to penetrate the other private worlds Of make-believe and fear. To rest in our own suffering Is evasion of suffering. We must learn to suffer more.

We were just kids using each other not to feel out of place.