Quotes About Vulnerability

Chantajes no», pensaba. «Lloremos cara a cara, pero no ese hipo barato que se aprende en el cine.»

Y no le hablo con las palabras que sólo han servido para no entendernos, ahora que ya es tarde empiezo a elegir otras, las de ella, las envueltas en eso que ella comprende y que no tiene nombre, auras y tensiones que crispan el aire entre dos cuerpos o llenan de polvo de oro una habitación o un verso.

Es terrible que un hombre sin grandeza alguna se tire de esa manera contra la pared. Nos denuncia a todos con el choque de sus huesos, nos hace trizas con la primera frase de su música.

Temía sobre todo la forma más sutil de la gratitud que se vuelve cariño canino.

Es mi culpa mÍa si las cosas me hieren con más fuerza que a otros

No me importa si lo digo mal y te hacen reír mis palabras. Yo te hablo como puedo, no sé decir lo que siento.

Nada me impresiona más que los hombres que lloran. Nuestra cobardía nos ha hecho considerar el llanto como cosa de mujercitas. Cuando solo lloran los valientes: por ejemplo, los héroes de Homero".

How can I love you if I don't know what hurts you?

If I canot know your name, may I light a lamp so I can see your face?' If you sould ever see my face, you will lose me forever.' Why?' Psyche wanted to know. 'Are you ugly? Are you afraid I won't love you if I see your face?' Perhaps I am afraid that if you see my face, it will be THAT that you will love and not me.' I understand, believe me. I know what that feels like.

To give good hugs you have to have some soft places. —Jeremy Richards

Having our hearts exposed is an extremely vulnerable position to be in. It can make us feel persecuted and alone. Why did this happen to me? we ask. It happened partly because we were fortunate enough to have loved someone. Without love there would be no grief.

To rescue our children we will have to let them save us from the power we embody: we will have to trust the very difference that they forever personify. And we will have to allow them the choice, without fear of death: that they may come and do likewise or that they may come and that we will follow them, that a little child will lead us back to the child we will always be, vulnerable and wanting and hurting for love and for beauty.

But her greatest assets were her bound feet, called in Chinese "three-inch golden lilies" (san-tsun-gin-lian). This meant she walked "like a tender young willow shoot in a spring breeze," as Chinese connoisseurs of women traditionally put it. The sight of a woman teetering on bound feet was supposed to have an erotic effect on men, partly because her vulnerability induced a feeling of protectiveness in the onlooker.

It's all about the director for me we have to click. It's a trust thing. I'll say I'm ready to let down my walls. I'll cry for you as long as you need. But you're going to have to hug me afterwards.

You eventually erase her contact info from your phone but not the pictures you took of her in bed while she was naked and asleep, never those.

You said i could call you when i wanted but that you wouldn't call me. you have to decide where and when, you said. if you leave it up to me i'll want to see you every day. At least you were honest, which is more than i can say for me.

You can't find intimacy—you can't find home—when you're always hiding behind masks. Intimacy requires a certain level of vulnerability. It requires a certain level of you exposing your fragmented, contradictory self to someone else. You running the risk of having your core self rejected and hurt and misunderstood.

One of the ex-sucias publishes a poem about you online. It's called "El Puto

Yes, the wildness was in me, yes it kept my heart beating fast all the long day, yes it danced around me while I walked down the street, yes it let me look boys straight in the face when they stared at me, yes it turned my laugh from a cough into a long wild fever, but I was still scared. How could I not be? I was my mother's daughter. Her hold on me stronger than love.

You don't want to let go, but don't want to be hurt, either.

You must learn her. You must know the reason why she is silent. You must trace her weakest spots. You must write to her. You must remind her that you are there. You must know how long it takes for her to give up. You must be there to hold her when she is about to. You must love her because many have tried and failed. And she wants to know that she is worthy to be loved, that she is worthy to be kept. And, this is how you keep her.

She's dark and heavy-browed and has a mouth like unswept glass—when you least expect it she cuts you.

He cried often for his love of some girl or another. Cried in the bathroom, where nobody could hear him.

We hurt each other too well to let it drop