Quotes About Softness

It's important to be gentle about my routines. I've learned that the hard way. When I'm really stressed out, I can take it out on my body and hurt myself. Sometimes I need to be as loving and soft with myself as possible. I've had to learn how to pay attention. It's a kind of mind-set.

Sometimes I'm attracted to more odd girls with stronger faces and features or a softer beauty with a lot of character.

I also never encountered a real piece of toilet paper until I went away to college, because my father would stock our bathrooms with the industrial tissue that he bought at a discount from his government wholesalers. It had all the softness and absorbency of typing paper and acted more like a frosting spreader than a piece of toilet tissue.

When we protect ourselves so we won't feel pain, that protection becomes like armor, like armor that imprisons the softness of of the heart.

Maybe the most important teaching is to lighten up and relax. It's such a huge help in working with our crazy mixed-up minds to remember that what we're doing is unlocking a softness that is in us and letting it spread. We're letting it blur the sharp corners of self-criticism and complaint.

Tonglen means taking in and sending out. This meditation practice is designed to help ordinary people like ourselves connect with the openness and softness of our hearts. Instead of shielding and protecting our soft spot, with tonglen we could let ourselves feel what it is to be human.

Why are our bodies soft, and weak, and smooth But that our soft conditions and our hearts Should well agree with our external parts?

Her stormy eyes, her sincere sensuality, the softness of her skin and her voice

We slept on mattresses stuffed with the soft seed-heads of dandelions.

HIs words stood as a reminder, though, that no matter how soft he seemed or how young, he was as capable of cruelty as the rest.

Don't mistake softness for weakness. Only a strong man can be soft with a woman.

When he smiled, however, you saw the softness in his eyes, which made it clear that Lefty was in fact no gangster but the pampered, bookish son of comfortably well-off parents.

One giant bowl of perfectly cooked ramen in rich, golden pork broth, densely packed with noodles and with an egg, boiled to just the right degree of softness, perched on top, beneath a sprinkling of bright, crunchy green scallions. She could almost taste it, and feel it in her mouth, the rich glide of egg yolk, the chewy, toothsome tangle of noodles, the sharp bite of scallion, and the comforting warmth of the broth, as salty as the ocean.

Not until you succeed in being really flexible and soft, can you become really strong and forceful. —Zen Buddhist proverb

the Empress said, her own breath coming in gasps, lips against her daughter's cold forehead and soft hair—her hair at least was still the same, soft, delicate, sweet cobwebs. . . .

Only this is true, that beauty is very beautiful, and softens, and inspires, and rouses, and lifts up, and never fails.

If the object of meditation were something concrete, something solid and graspable - an image or a statue or a dot on the floor or a candle - it would be much more of a concentration exercise. But the breath is very elusive; even if you wanted to give it one hundred percent attention, it would be difficult because it is so ephemeral, so light, so airy and spacious. As the object of meditation, it brings a sense of softness and gentleness.

Pitta types need to remain flexible and soft throughout their lives because if excess Pitta is not softened, it can become stiff, hot, and too tight. It

the killing blow is sometimes the softest

I'm a real pushover for animals.

The harshness of a teacher is better than the reputed softness of the parent.

Her lips were soft, the caress so very light. Intimate. Loving. I love her. He realized the truth in that instant. It wasn't just an obsession. Not for him. He wanted her safe. He wanted her happy. And he never wanted her to fear monsters in the world ever again.

As her gentle voice continued, Rhys had the sensation of floating, the red tide of fever easing. How strange and lovely it was to lie here half dozing in her arms, possibly even better than fucking... but that thought led to the indecent question of what it might be like with her... how she might lie quietly beneath him while he devoured all that petal softness and vanilla sweetness... and slowly he fell asleep in Lady Helen's arms.

Catherine's face was peaceful, her lips slightly parted. Curled among the white bed linens, a glimpse of her pink shoulder visible, that golden hair streaming everywhere, she looked like a confection placed amid swirls of whipped cream.