Quotes About Frailty

The room hovered around me with great gentleness, as if the chairs and the tables and the walls were withholding their weight out of sympathy for my sudden frailty.

So missed everything in the white, blindfolded, rigid faces of those women. I felt their frailty, yes: friable, burnt aluminium. Fragile, like the mantle of a gas-lamp. But made nothing of that massive, starless, mid-fall, falling heaven of granite stopped, as if in a snapshot, by their hair.

His coughing was incessant and his weight was down to 115 pounds, skin-and-bones for a man 5 feet 10 inches tall. His energy level never flagged, but he seemed to be literally disappearing little by little, day after day.

Who then to frail mortality shall trustBut limns on water, or but writes in dust.

It is true greatness to have in one the frailty of a man and the security of a god.

I felt bad, but I did it anyway, because I'm only human. I was ashamed of myself and depressed afterward, though, which is human, too, I guess. Being human is an excuse for just about everything, but it also kind of sucks in a way.

Secrets can remind us of the countless human dramas, of frailty and heroism playing out silently in the lives of people all around us.

What we often mistake for frailty in children is their openness to experience.

We are pitiable, and God pities us. With God's merciful help, we begin to heal. Progress is not very discernible in the midst of the fray, but over time it becomes clear that we are indeed fighting off the infection and gradually getting stronger, less fretful, more loving.

Not that there's anything wrong with humans. I find their frail, emotionally unstable, irrational natures quite endearing.

Frailty, thy name is Alcatraz

everyone shares the handicap of mortality. Our individual physical, emotional, and spiritual failures are but symptoms of this disease.

I'm delirious because I'm dying so fast.

If you can slow the biological process of aging, even a minor slowdown in the rate at which we age yields improvements in virtually every condition of frailty and disability and mortality that we see at later ages.

I must not permit the evil capabilities of human nature to sour my faith in the tremendous good that is possible despite the frailty of that nature.

I tell you this true story just to prove that I can. That my frailty has not yet reached a point at which I can no longer tell a true story.

We do naught but scratch the world, frail and fraught. Every vast drama of civilizations, of peoples with their certainties and gestures, means nothing, affects nothing. Life crawls on, ever on.

I think there should be laughs in everything. Sometimes, it's a slammed door, a pie in the face or just a recognition of our frailties.

Each season, my balance gets worse, and sometimes I fall. I no longer cook for myself but microwave widower food, mostly Stouffer's. My fingers are clumsy and slow with buttons.

I started out writing when I was young; stuff about exposing the truth about how people are not what they appear, about how they are much more dysfunctional than they seem. Pulling back the curtain - that felt smart. But as I got older, exposing how frail people can be seems less and less deep.

Life seems sadly mishandled by humans, as if it's all too much for them - they spend so much time and energy hurting each other, making things worse, and fouling their own nest, all because they imagine things aren't good enough and should be made much better.

what's the matter? he asked nothing what do you want me to do for you? i want you to be old. ten years older. twenty years older what she meant was: i want you to be weak. as weak as i am.

Cos'hai?» disse lui. «Niente». «Cosa vuoi che faccia per te?». «Voglio che tu sia più vecchio. Più vecchio di dieci anni. Di vent'anni!». Con questo gli voleva dire: voglio che tu sia debole. Che tu sia debole quanto me.

Love is easily killed.