Quotes About Brokenness

Long, dark, and lovely she had been, in those days before her mind broke and the parts scattered and she let them go.

The saddest thing is a retarded man who is crying and promising a broken egg that it will still be a chicken some day. And that they'll play together in a field when it gets better.

My heart is shattered, an all that's left are jagged shards.

And I was sure it was the drink that irrigated White's self-sabotage, for it is the common trait of alcoholics to make plans and promises, to oneself, to others, fervently, sincerely, and in hope of redemption. Promises that are broken, again and again, through fear, through loss of nerve, through any number of things that hide that deep desire, at heart, to obliterate one's broken self.

for it is a common trait of alcoholics to make plans and promises, to oneself, to others, fervently, sincerely, and in hope of redemption. Promises that are broken, again and again, through fear, through loss of nerve, through any number of things that hide that deep desire, at heart, to obliterate one's broken self.

And I was sure that it was the drink that irrigated White's constant self-sabotage, for it is a common trait of alcoholics to make plans and promises, to oneself, to others, fervently, sincerely, and in hope of redemption. Promises that are broken, again and again, through fear, through loss of nerve, through any number of things that hide that deep desire, at heart, to obliterate one's broken self.

She left an empty house in my heart. The lights don't work anymore, the heater's broken.

There is a crack in everything

bitter woe? Nay! but the time to trust Is in this moment's need, Poor, broken, bruised reed! Poor, troubled soul, make speed To trust thy God. What is the time to trust? Is it when hopes beat high, When sunshine gilds the sky, And joy and ecstasy Fill all the heart? Nay! but the time to trust Is when our joy is fled, When sorrow bows the head, And all is cold and dead, All else but God.

Probably falling in love is always a little like that: You discover that one other person who understands what no one else seems to, which is that the world is broken and can never, ever be fixed. You can stop pretending, at least for a little while. You can both admit it, if only to each other.

Julia didn't laugh. She understood that she was looking at another person like herself, a broken person, but Pouncy was even more broken than she was. She was used to feeling sorry for herself, and angry at other people. She was less used at feeling sorry for someone else, but she felt it now. She would never be in love with Pouncy, but she felt love for him.

There are different kinds of infidelity, but betrayal is betrayal wherever you find it.

CHURCH is like a hospital. It's where people who are sick, broken, bruised, beaten, and battered with life because of sin and unrighteousness come for help. It's okay if you are here and don't have all your life together. If you had all your life together, you wouldn't need to be here. However, hospitals do not tolerate sick people hanging around who don't want to get better. No doctor is going to keep fooling with a patient

To stay with that shakiness—to stay with a broken heart, with a rumbling stomach, with the feeling of hopelessness and wanting to get revenge—that is the path of true awakening. Sticking with that uncertainty, getting the knack of relaxing in the midst of chaos, learning not to panic—this is the spiritual path.

She wasn't on heroin then, but she was a mess. I thought I was going to put Humpty Dumpty back together and turn her into a princess. Instead, she turned into scrambled eggs, and always was

There is no other resource for dealing with brokenness that's as powerful as the gospel lived out creatively and effectively in the context of local culture. The gospel gives us enough hope to enter into these very difficult, seemingly hopeless situations.

There are so many broken things that I don't know how to fix. But I know how to fight.

Everybody's heart is like a cup. They stumble from place to place and person to person, trying to get them filled. They get cracked, those cups, and even broken. Some people throw them away, thinking that it will stop the pain. Poor fools. Nobody can fill a cup but Almighty God Himself. Nobody.

We are setting ourselves free from these broken bodies, from this despicable world, from pain and disappointment.

The Archer novels are about various kinds of brokenness.

There's nothing more exciting for an actor than a chance to lose, to be someone who has lost - especially if it's someone who starts off with a veneer of control. To be broken is wonderful.

Rita was almost as badly damaged as I am.

And believing that we are broken is the same as being broken. It means we experience ourselves that way. That perception shapes our reality. It is an illusion we must strive to avoid, as great misery comes from such a belief.

The knowledge of death seemed present in both sisters—it was something about the way they carried themselves, something that had broken too soon and had not mended, marking them in spite of their lightheartedness.