Quotes About Wounds

Yaln?zca insanlar büyür,yaralar büyümez,yaralar çocuk kal?r.

ç?plak yara gö?sümüze dizilmi? deniz kabuklar? içimizde bir türlü yat??mayan yaral? hayvan kendimizi dünyaya çarpa çarpa k?rmaya çal??t???m?z kabuk neye küsmü?sek küsmü?üz bir kere, içimizde küs çizgisi denize benzeyen ya da denizsizli?e el ele tutu?tu?umuzda, bir yazg? gibi avucumuzun içinde

Those who deny the spirit of the earth, who do not see that the earth is alive and sacred, who poison the earth and inflict wounds upon it have no shame and are without the basic virtues of humanity. And they bring ridicule upon themselves.

When art comes to terms with both the wounds of the world and the promise of resurrection and learns how to express and respond to both at once, we will be on the way to a fresh vision, a fresh mission.

we should never forget that when Jesus rose from the dead, as the paradigm, first example, and generating power of the whole new creation, the marks of the nails were not just visible on his hands and his feet. They were the way he was to be identified. When art comes to terms with both the wounds of the world and the promise of resurrection and learns how to express and respond to both at once, we will be on the way to a fresh vision, a fresh mission. A

Wounds are said to emit light under certain conditions - touch them and the brightness will stay on the hands - and as candles burn Rohan thinks of each flame as an injury somewhere in his house.

Some wounds should be healed, no matter how much time has passed or how much time is left.

In a sense she [Sylvia Plath] was the victim of an obsessive talent that sent her out into the world to gather sensations and seek wounds that could provide creative inspiration. Having acquired the wounds she stuck her fingers into them, turning the pain and blood into lines of highly subjective poetry that both repel and fascinate the reader.

Waking, I am freighted with memory: my mother's last words spoken--after her death--in a dream: Do you know what it means to have a wound that never heals?

But now let us consider the holes in our own bodies and into what these congenital wounds open. Under the skin of man is a wondrous jungle where veins like lush tropical growths hang along over-ripe organs and weed-like entrails writhe in squirming tangles of red and yellow. In this jungle, flitting from rock-gray lungs to golden intestines, from liver to lights and back to liver again, lives a bird called the soul.

Poetry heals the wounds inflicted by reason.

Just when I was beginning to forget, that bird of ill-omen came flapping my way, to rip open with its beak the wounds of memory. All at once shame over the past and the recollection of sin unfolded themselves before my eyes and, seized by a terror so great it made me want to shriek, I could not sit still a moment longer. "How about a drink?" I asked.

Just when I was beginning to forget, that bird of ill-omen came flapping my way, to rip open with its beak the wounds of memory. All at once shame over the past and the recollection of sin unfolded themselves before my eyes and, seized by a terror so great it made me want to shriek, I could not sit still a moment longer.

I am convinced that human life is filled with many pure, happy, serene examples of insincerity, truly splendid of their kind- of people deceiving one another without (strangely enough), any wounds being inflicted of people who seem unaware even that they are deceiving one another.

These wounds, unlike the scars from the lashing a man might give, cut inwards very deep, like an internal hemorrhage, bringing intense discomfort.

Let forgiveness weave its golden thread, Healing wounds that once bled, For in its power, we transcend, And find love and peace, until the end.

Poor child! you are much fit for a nurse! What do you know of wounds, of sickness, of death? What qualification have you to induce them to give you such an office? Do you think they would take such a fair face as yours among the sick wards? No, no, that is impracticable. You must wait: the lesson hardest of all to learn — one, I dare say, you have never had to learn at al!

I have been astonished to see how nature uses devastation to stimulate new growth, slowly but persistently healing her own wounds.

Some wounds need to be pricked so they can drain. Others just need to be left alone.

We carry our wounds and perhaps even worse, our capacity to wound, forward with us. If we learn not only to tell our stories but to listen to what our stories tell us ... we are doing the work of memory.

Betrayal, addiction and trauma weave a design of continually recycled wounds that create an overarching pattern of compulsive relationships.

El dicho de que «el tiempo todo lo cura» es falso. El tiempo cura la mayoría de las heridas. El resto están escondidas detrás de esa puerta.

Second is the door of forgetting. Some wounds are too deep to heal, or too deep to heal quickly. In addition, many memories are simply painful, and there is no healing to be done. The saying "time heals all wounds" is false. Time heals most wounds. The rest are hidden behind this door.

The saying "time heals all wounds" is false. Time heals most wounds. The rest are hidden behind this door. Third