Quotes About Protection

Because parents are biologically programmed to protect their children, their automatic tendency is to try to rescue them or give them some wisdom that will solve the problem. A more effective approach involves listening with empathy and very few words.

If parents pull their children out of struggles too quickly, children get fearful of just about everything. With that said, be realistic. Sometimes rescue is the higher priority.

God is in control of all events and is able to protect and provide for you His child.

There is no substitute for your impassioned prayers on behalf of your children

The Word of God is your best defence against the troubles of this world.

Spiritual warfare is the unseen battle God wages on your behalf.

One of them would hurl a rock, then a few more. Suddenly it's raining rocks. Ya with me? That's their cover, see, because no matter how big a weapon you come out the door with, you still don't want to catch a rock in the face. A sawed-off won't stop a rock, follow?

What has been touted by government officials as a means to protect us has slowly been transformed into a surveillance state being used to protect the government and the people who control it from any public rebellion.

It's not the books by Stephen King that I read, I need protection from the things in my head . . .

Once she was born, I was never not afraid.

Although the knowledge that their friends love them and sorrow for them is a great solace, the nearest afflicted must be protected from any one or anything which is likely to overstrain nerves already at the threatening point, and none have the right to feel hurt if they are told they can neither be of use or be received. At such a time, to some people companionship is a comfort, others shrink from their dearest friends.

To such doubtful amulets had my self-respect been pinned, and I faced myself that day with the nonplused apprehension of someone who has come across a vampire and has no crucifix at hand.

Everyone has his or her Frrance, his or her Paris, just as everyone has his or her London or New York. This stubborn habit strikes me as self-protection, an old tribal instinct for never showing one's back. Not knowing, not having gotten there first (and pocketing the goods), seem to implicate us as fools or rubes.

Then, when I was nice and safe and warm, I dissolved into tears. Suddenly the fear returned. I found myself trembling in front of the fire, with the woman's arms around me, cradling me as though I were a baby. I wanted to stay forever safe and warm in her small arms that didn't go half way around me. I also wanted to run away, and break into sobs, and do I hardly knew what.

A lock is only as good as the door.

To be a mother is to live in fear. Fear of death, of sickness, of loss, of accidents, of strangers, of the Black Man, or simply those small everyday things that somehow manage to hurt us most: the look of impatience, the angry word, the missed bedtime story, the forgotten kiss, the terrible moment when a mother ceases to be the center of her daughter's world and becomes

Joe often gave out little charms – goodwill charms, he called them – to visitors, and Jay began to do the same: tiny bunches of lavender or mint or pineapple sage, tied with ribbons of different colours – red for protection, white for luck, blue for healing.

To not do what you can to protect someone, that's cowardly.

When you're pregnant, you can think of nothing but having your own body to yourself again, yet after having given birth you realize that the biggest part of you is now somehow external, subject to all sorts of dangers and disappearance, so you spend the rest of your life trying to figure out how to keep it close enough for comfort. That's the strange thing about being a mother: until you have a baby, you don't even realize how much you were missing one.

You build a wall to keep something unwanted out … or to hold something precious in.

I don't understand why it's a sin if you love something and want to keep it from having to suffer.

I knew her well enough to understand that when Delia pushed you away, it was her way of making sure she didn't get shoved first.

If you focus on sandbagging the beachhead, you can ignore the tsunami that's approaching. Try it any other way and you'll go crazy.

Maybe that's what we do to the people we love: we take shots in the dark and realize too late we've wounded the people we are trying to protect.