You can only really really hurt the ones that you really really love.
She's sensitive, too. Takes to hurt the way water takes to paper.
I found myself grinning until my cheeks hurt, my scalp prickling till I thought it might lift off my head. My tongue ran away from me, giddy with freedom. This, and this, and this, I said to him. I did not have to fear that I spoke too much. I did not have to worry that I was too slender, or too slow. This and this and this! I taught him how to skip stones, and he taught me how to carve wood. I could feel every nerve in my body, every brush of air against my skin.
Things get better--hurt less--over time. If you let them.
I loved Alex so much that it was easier to let him hurt me than to watch him hurt himself.
It still hurts," she whispered. "Even when you're doing it for someone else, that doesn't stop your ribs from getting cracked, or your wrist swelling, or your cuts from bleeding.
Even then, it hurt. The pain was always there, pulling me inside of myself, demanding to be felt. It always felt like I was waking up from the pain when something in the world outside of me suddenly required my comment or attention.
Are you hurting anywhere else?" I asked, feeling so emotionally raw after the long night we'd had. He caught my wrist and pulled my hand down to press flat over his heart. "Here." "So am I." He kissed my fingertips, then linked our hands and led me.
You couldn't do it?" Rob Lynburn sneered. "I know her," Ash said in a low voice. "I can't... hurt someone I know.
I don't know" means "NO!" "I don't know" means "I'm too cowardly to tell you the truth because I can't deal with confrontation." "I don't know" means please do the dirty work for me because I don't want to hurt your feelings even more then I already have.
Vulnerability, like he had the power to hurt her or pleasure her in a way no other man could. For the first time, he was uncomfortable with the idea of having complete power over her
But hurting ourselves to inflict pain on others is just another cry to be loved.
I made such a fool of myself,” she lamented. “Love does not make you a fool.” “He didn’t love me back.” “That does not make you a fool, either.” “Just tell me …” Her voice cracked. “When does it stop hurting?” “Sometimes never.
To love someone so deeply means also that it will hurt a thousand times more when he disappoints or leaves you
I want somebody to love, and I want somebody to love me. And nobody ever will. And that's why it hurts. Because it makes a difference. And when nobody cares, it makes you all mad inside and it makes you want to say things, tear up things, break things, get through the glass.
Surely my macking on some guy in an insane asylum wouldn't hurt him. He'd been living with his stalker, for heaven's sake.
I was angry with myself because I still loved her, or at least I loved that dream of our togetherness. My feelings were unreasonable, irrational, and I couldn't change them. That hurt.
All she wanted was a breathing space in which to hurt.
Fortunately, God made all varieties of people with a wide variety of interests and abilities. He has called people of every race and color who have been hurt by life in every manner imaginable. Even the scars of past abuse and injury can be the means of bringing healing to another. What wonderful opportunities to make disciples!
Will you come with me to the mountains? It will hurt at first, until your feet are hardened. Reality is harsh to the feet of shadows. But will you come?
And maybe that was love. Being so vulnerable and allowing someone else in so far they could hurt you, but they also give you everything.
The only people who think the Internet is a calamity are people whose lives have been hurt by it; the only people who insist the Internet is wonderful are those who need it to give their life meaning.
...Any fool can love somebody who's perfect, somebody who does everything right. But that doesn't stretch your soul. Your soul only gets stretched when you can still love somebody after they've hurt you.
She regarded books as the emblems of secret brotherhood. A man with this sort of library couldn't possibly hurt her.
I remember things like that...A lifetimes accredidation of unkindness, all of those little longering hurts that I carried around like stones sewn into my pockets.
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