Quotes About Wounded

I feel very small. I don't understand. I have so much courage, fire, energy, for many things, yet I get so hurt, so wounded by small things.

I don't understand. I have so much courage, fire, energy, for so many things, yet I get so hurt, so wounded by small things.

The unexpected makings of a smile tugged at her lips. Here he was, hurt and wounded, and he was concerned about his horse. How very like a man.

Solitude There is a charm in Solitude that cheers A feeling that the world knows nothing of A green delight the wounded mind endears After the hustling world is broken off Whose whole delight was crime at good to scoff Green solitude his prison pleasure yields The bitch fox heeds him not -- birds seem to laugh He lives the Crusoe of his lonely fields Which dark green oaks his noontide leisure shields

There is a charm in Solitude that cheers A feeling that the world knows nothing of A green delight the wounded mind endears After the hustling world is broken off

But he was wounded, and tired, and winter was still upon him.

I am wounded by theology, unhinged and uprooted by the blow it has delivered to my heart. Theology is my weakness, the way one has a weakness for sex or money, what I secretly desire, or maybe not so secretly, even as it desires everything of me. Still, with all due deference, like Johannes Climacus speaking of being a Christian, I would say that on my best days I am working at becoming theological.

Is not wounded vanity the mother of all tragedies?

she projects her own disability onto inanimate objects, painting clay idols, tables and various other artefacts with broken feet or wounded legs.

Don't be ashamed to need help. Like a soldier storming a wall, you have a mission to accomplish. And if you've been wounded and you need a comrade to pull you up? So what?

7. Don't be ashamed to need help. Like a soldier storming a wall, you have a mission to accomplish. And if you've been wounded and you need a comrade to pull you up? So what?

They meet in church basements and offer bandages to those wounded by the shrapnel of exploding families.

It was no longer her absence that wounded me, but my growing indifference to it. Forgetting, however calming, was also a reminder of infidelity to what I had at one time held so dear.

In this dark and wounded society, writing can give you the pleasures of the woodpecker, of hollowing out a hole in a tree where you can build your nest and say, "This is my niche, this is where I live now, this is where I belong.

A critic is someone who comes onto the battlefield after the battle is over and shoots the wounded"?

Her longing for him was unbearably painful. In truth, she looked at the beautiful, spoiled, self-indulgent man and saw a wounded, angry child. One who needed her.

the 1,323 soldiers who were wounded in that war and

It wasn't a question of luck, the way some folks will tell you; they will tell you it's back luck to be near the wounded. It was just that we didn't want to be close to them any longer than it took to run past, the way you wouldn't want to be near someone who had something catching, like smallpox

Like officer Dave.He's never said much about his life, but I can tell he's scarred. And he knows I'm scarred too. The wounded always recognize the wounded. We can smell each other.

Has anyone ever won an argument with you? (Syd) Just Tee, and I was drunk and wounded at the time. (Joe)

There is always inequality in life. Some men are killed in a war and some men are wounded and some men never leave the country. Life is unfair.

O Cisne Foi em abril, eu me lembro, embora em meu espírito fosse dezembro, Que um pássaro ferido foi retirado da escuridão do lago, As penas brancas brilharam ao sol, e de sua boca escorreu a água negra, Enquanto por dentro minha voz gritava até pensar que meu coração iria se partir; Fui eu quem assistiu à sua morte, seguindo à deriva, à deriva, esperando em sua vigília Que Deus levasse sua alma.

My poor Flush has fallen into tribulation. Think of Catiline, the great savage Cuba bloodhound belonging to this house, attempting last night to worry him just as the first Catiline did Cicero. Flush was rescued, but not before he had been wounded severely: and this morning he is on three legs and in great depression of spirits. My poor, poor Flushie! He lies on my sofa and looks up to me with most pathetic eyes.

There was a dark satisfaction in choosing to remain wounded, yet he had seen what happened to Henry when he cut himself off from love.