Quotes About Wounds

There ought to be a great Distance between Raillery and Satire, so that one may never be mistaken for the other: Raillery ought indeed to surprise, and sensibly touch, those to whom it is directed; but I would not have the Wounds it makes, either deep or lasting: Let those who feel it, be hurt like Persons, who, gathering Roses, are pricked by the Thorns, and find a sweet smell to make amends.

Society mends its wounds. And that's invariably true in all the tragedies, in the comedies as well. And certainly in the histories.

That's what fathers do if they don't heal their wounds. They wound their children in the same place.

And you're wounded in the same place. That's what fathers do if they don't heal their wounds. They wound their children in the same place.

Heridas?" -fue lo único que conseguí decir. "Sí" -afirmó Pat- "Y tú tienes esas heridas en el mismo sitio. Eso es lo que hacen los padres si no curan sus propias heridas. Hieren a sus hijos en el mismo sitio.

Adrienne Rich … did not die a woman who denied that her wounds came from the same source as her power. In fact, she spent her life making power from those wounds [but] Marie Curie… didn't have that luxury — she had to deny that in order to be who she was in her time. But we don't. And I think so much of the work I've done … and the work I hope I continue to do, is about writing into those wounds.

A maple that has yielded up its life Season on sugar-season—oh, what can be More tragic in its beauty than a maple: Swollen and scarred of trunk, and varicose From gashes in the bark, from too many wounds Of too many spiles that let out too much sap, From too much giving, giving for ninety years, For ninety Moons-of-Maple-Sugar-Making, For ninety Moons-of-Gathering-of-Wild-Rice, For ninety Moons-of-the-Falling-of-the-Leaves, For ninety Moons-of-the-Coming-of-the-Snow.

"Sometimes we must undergo hardships, breakups, and narcissistic wounds, which shatter the flattering image that we had of ourselves, in order to discover two truths: that we are not who we thought we were; and that the loss of a cherished pleasure is not necessarily the loss of true happiness and well-being."

To the men and women who keep a sacred appointment on Sunday morning. Bewildered by seductive voices, nursing wounds life has inflicted upon them, anxious about matters that do not matter. Yet they come to listen for a clear word from God that speaks to their condition. And to those who minister to them now and those who will do so in the future.

We are often told during times of bereavement that time heals all wounds. That's crap. In truth, you are devastated, you mourn, you cry to the point where you think you'll never stop - and then you reach a stage where the survival instinct takes over. You stop. You simply won't or can't let yourself "go there" anymore because the pain was too great. You block. You deny. But you don't really heal.

Imago match, that chemical reaction occurs, and love ignites. All other bets, all other ideas about what we want in a mate, are off. We feel alive and whole, confident that we have met the person who will make everything all right. Unfortunately, since we've almost surely chosen someone with negative traits similar to those of the parents who wounded us in the first place, the chance of a more positive outcome this time around are slim indeed.

one partner's defense quickly becomes the source of the other partner's wound. Wounds don't cause damage; defenses cause damage. When defensive partners lash out or retreat in an effort to protect themselves from pain or intrusion, they wound the other partner, who responds with a defense, which, in turn, wounds the partner who was defensive in the first place. A cycle of unconscious wounding and defending gets established that is hard to break.

the unconscious is trying to resurrect the past is not a matter of habit or blind compulsion but of a compelling need to heal old childhood wounds.

In more than one ambuscade, man, that sublime ape, has already pierced my breast with his porphyry lance: a soldier does not exhibit his wounds however glorious they may be. This terrible combat will bring down much sorrow upon the heads of the two parties: two friends striving obstinately to destroy one another: what a drama!

Mere grimness is as easy as grinning; but it requires something to put a handsome face on a story. Narratives become of suspicious merit in proportion as they lean to Newgate-like offenses, particularly of blood and wounds...

The damned could be saved...anytime. But they refused to give up their sins. Though they suffered endlessly, they would not give them up, even for salvation, perfect divine love. I hadn't understood at the time. If sinners were unhappy, why would they prefer their suffering? But now I knew why. Without my wounds, who was I? My scars were my face, my past was my life.

without my wounds, who was i? my scars were my face, my past was my life.

I hadn't understood at the time. If sinners were so unhappy,why would they prefer their suffering? But now I knew why. Without my wounds, who was I? My scars were my face, my past was my life.

They say time heals all wounds but they're lying

I hadn't understood at the time. If sinners were so unhappy, why would they prefer their suffering? But now I knew why. Without my wounds, who was I? My scars were my face, my past was my life. It wasn't like I didn't know where all this remembering got you, all that hunger for beauty and astonishing cruelty and ever-present loss.

Collins did not merely weigh up the reaction to the subsequent death from wounds of the unfortunate Smith; he analysed the reasons why the detective 'kept running', and from then on the Squad was armed not with .38 but .45 revolvers.

We are all wounded by racism, but for some of us those wounds are anesthetized. None of us, black or white, wants to feel the pain that racism has caused. But when you feel it, you're awake.

The safe places could only be visited; they could only grant a momentary intuition of sanctuary. The moment always came when we had to return to our real life to face the wounds and grief indigenous to our homr by the river.

Criticism is futile because it puts people on the defensive and usually makes them strive to justify themselves. Criticism is dangerous because it wounds a person's precious pride, hurts their sense of importance, and arouses resentment.