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Wound Quotes

Browse 103 quotes about Wound.

Wound Quotes

“Thoughts can only hurt you with your permission, feelings can only wound you with your consent, experiences can only damage you with your authorization; life can only ruin you with your approval.”

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Author:Matshona Dhliwayo
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“Masterfully the manager struggled to control himself. “I…ah…brought bandages and a fresh shirt for you, Mr. Devlin.” “Do you always keep a change of clothes at your place of business, Mr. Devlin?” Amanda asked. “Oh, yes,” Fretwell said cheerfully before Devlin could reply. “Ink stains, spills, marauding aristocrats…one never knows what to expect. It is best to be prepared.” “Out, Fretwell,” Devlin said meaningfully, and the manager continued to grin as he complied. “I like that Mr. Fretwell,” Amanda said, reaching for a rolled bandage when the cut was cleaned. “Everyone does,” rejoined Devlin dryly.”

WoundChildhood FriendsSecret Knowledge
Book:Suddenly You
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“This demotion of the exalted role of the Divine Feminine and the role of women in spirituality is nothing less than a horrible nightmare that Western Society has been experiencing for a very long time. It is the wound that will not heal, as spoken of in the Arthurian Romances.”

WoundWestern SocietyArthurian RomancesDowngrading WomenFemale Demotion
Book:Alien Parasites: 40 Gnostic Truths to Defeat the Archon Invasion!
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“UNDERBELLY Wouldbelove, do not think of me as a whetstone until you hear the whole story: In it, I’m not the hero, but I’m not the villain either so let’s say, in the story, I was human and made of human-things: fear and hands, underbelly and blade. Let me say it plain: I loved someone and I failed at it. Let me say it another way: I like to call myself wound but I will answer to knife. Sometimes I think we have the same name, Notquitelove. I want to be soft, to say here is my underbelly and I want you to hold the knife, but I don’t know what I want you to do: plunge or mercy. I deserve both. I want to hold and be held. Let me say it again, Possiblelove: I’m not sure you should. The truth is: If you don’t, I won’t die of want or lonely, just time. And not now, not even soon. But that’s how every story ends eventually. Here is how one might start: Before. The truth? I’m not a liar but I close my eyes a lot, Couldbelove. Before, I let a blade slide itself sharp against me. Look at where I once bloomed red and pulsing. A keloid history. I have not forgotten the knife or that I loved it or what it was like before: my unscarred body visits me in dreams and photographs. Maybelove, I barely recognize it without the armor of its scars. I am trying to tell the truth: the dreams are how I haunt myself. Maybe I’m not telling the whole story: I loved someone and now I don’t. I can’t promise to leave you unscarred. The truth: I am a map of every blade I ever held. This is not a dream. Look at us now: all grit and density. What, Wouldbelove do you know of knives? Do you think you are a soft thing? I don’t. Maybe the truth is: Both. Blade and guard. My truth is: blade. My hands on the blade; my hands, the blade; my hands carving and re-carving every overzealous fibrous memory. The truth is: I want to hold your hands because they are like mine. Holding a knife by the blade and sharpening it. In your dreams, how much invitation to pierce are you? Perhapslove, the truth is: I am afraid we are both knives, both stones, both scarred. Or we will be. The truth is: I have made fire before: stone against stone. Mightbelove, I have sharpened this knife before: blade against blade. I have hurt and hungered before: flesh against flesh. I won’t make a dull promise.”

WantLoveMelancholyYearningScarsWoundKnifeHearbreakAlmost Romance
Author:Nicole Homer
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“I hurt myself deeply, though at the time I had no idea how deeply. I should have learned many things from that experience, but when I look back on it, all I gained was one single, undeniable fact. That ultimately I am a person who can do evil. I never consciously tried to hurt anyone, yet good intentions notwithstanding, when necessity demanded, I could become completely self-centred, even cruel. I was the kind of person who could, using some plausible excuse, inflict on a person I cared for a wound that would never heal.”

EvilHurtCrueltyLooking BackSelf CenteredGood IntentionsWound
Book:South of the Border, West of the Sun
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“A small hole in his shirt revealed a gooey red blob right in the meaty part above his armpit, blood pouring from the wound. It hurt. It hurt bad. If he’d thought his headache downstairs had been tough, this was like three or four of those, all smashed into a coil of pain right there in his shoulder. And spreading through the rest of his body. Newt was at his side, looking down with worried eyes. “He shot me.” It just came out, a new number one on the list of the dumbest things he’d ever said. The pain, like living metal staples running through his insides, pricking and scratching with their little sharp points. He felt his mind going dark for the second time that day.”

PainHurtDumbWoundThomasNewtThe Maze RunnerMinhoGladersThe Scorch Trials
Book:The Scorch Trials
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“I feigned sleep until my mother left for school, but even my eyelids didn't shut out the light. They hung the raw, red screen of their tiny vessels in front of me like a wound. I crawled between the mattress and the padded bedstead and let the mattress fall across me like a tombstone. It felt dark and safe under there, but the mattress was not heavy enough. It needed about a ton more weight to make me sleep.”

SleepDarknessBedWoundNot SleepingCan T SleepVessels
Book:the bell jar
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“I hid my wound under my clothes. Nobody could see it, including myself, and I completely forgot about it. Then I met someone who, filled with love, held me tight in that point. The pain was devastating, and I hated him, o how much I hated him, the cause of all my suffering. Then I met someone, beautifully dressed, and I loved him so much, holding him tight with all my passion. And he suffered badly, and he hated me, o how much he hated me, the cause of all his pain. So the story went on till I met someone who undressed himself, standing completely naked, with all his horrible wounds. Hence I also undressed, and I saw my horrible wounds, which he could also see. Then...”

LovePainHateRelationshipsEgoShadowTransparencyMasksWound
Author:Franco Santoro
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