Best 65 quotes in «bruises quotes» category

I used to pray you know, pray to God that He would somehow stop it. All the nights of listening to my mother scream and things breaking. Of holding my brother and sister and listening to them cry and begging me to stop it.' My voice is slow and steady like a freight train at night. 'I was too young, and we were always told that they'd put us in foster homes where people would rape us if we ever said anything. So we explained away the bruises and my mom wore big sunglasses whenever she left the house. And we invented car accidents if the bruising was too bad to cover with make-up.

She met a boy and called him Stargazer because instead of poems he recited the names of constellations. He said the freckles on his arms were roadmaps to the sky, and the bruises that he carried were supernovas in disguise. "Stargazer

it was the kind of moon that I would want to send back to my ancestors and gift to my descendants so they know that I too, have been bruised...by beauty.

Someday those bruises inside you will heal. You can't know when someday will come, or what life will look like when it finally does. ... But in a way it doesn't even matter because someday isn't what we have. What we have is right now, this moment, when things aren't okay yet, but in a way they are already, because in the end they will be, and as long as that's true, it's enough.

What the hell was that?” he asked no-one in particular. “Did they ram us?” “Uh – negative, sir.” Marnetti offered, reading an instrumental assessment from his display, “It seems we were hit by some kind of pulse wave generated by their jump.” “Their jump? – You mean by arriving they nearly killed us?” Marnetti nodded, continuing, “Range 0.5 kilometers, Captain. Holding steady. No recognized weapons activity.” “Damage report.” He ordered, feeling his way back into his seat, eyes glued to the viewscreen. “Shield 2 down, 1 is buckling.” Pluddeman choked. “Power stable, all systems holding steady,” Marnetti added, now rubbing some bruises. “Any communications?” “Nothing, sir. Static on all frequencies.” “What are they doing?” “Nothing, sir. Waiting maybe.” “Waiting, my ass!” Dayne barked. “They must be sizing us up!

And while some healing does happen, it isn't a healing of redemption or epiphany. It's more like the slow absorption of a bruise.

Artists hold out the mirror to the bruises on the face of the world.

you are ever the only one i want to give all the peaches in my heart to the only one by whom i want them bruised.

A flower, if you bruise it under your feet, rewards you by giving you its perfume.

But when I thought I hit bottom, it started hitting back. There is no bruise like the bruise loneliness kicks into your spine.

Bruises fade. Death is permanent.

For the people of God, the Word of God leaves pleasant bruises.

Authority without wisdom is like a heavy ax without an edge -- fitter to bruise than polish.

Comedy to me is all about the bumps and bruises and weird tics.

don't make me regret this" I said, breathless. " You haven't regretted me once". He kissed me, and I answered so hungrily I thought my lips would bruise. Patch&Nora ( p. 180)

He always apologized, and sometimes he would even cry because of the bruises he'd made on her arms or legs or her back. He would say that he hated what he'd done, but in the next breath tell her she'd deserved it. That if she'd been more careful, it wouldn't have happened. That if she'd been paying attention or hadn't been so stupid, he wouldn't have lost his temper.

God in Christ has taken into Himself the brokenness of the human condition. Hence, human woundedness, brokenness, death itself are transformed from dead ends to doorways into Life. In the divinizing humanity of Christ, bruises become balm.

Hey I bruise," Hale said. "Also, you are freakishly strong.

God has mercifully ordered that the human brain works slowly; first the blow, hours afterwards the bruise.

Hearts don't break, y'all. They bruise and get better.

I bruise easily so be gentle when you handle me.

His brows rose. “And how is it that you have come to be such an expert on scrapes and bruises?” “I’m a governess,” she said. Because really, that ought to be explanation enough.

I can't stop thinking about cutting myself up. Visual bruises can be covered with make-up, but down to the core, I'm all bruises.

I could only stare, any sense that maybe I understood him evaporating as it always did. I'd glimpse something underneath, and he'd snatched it away so fast it left bruises that called me a fool for hoping for more.

I feel like I envision a lot of hamstrings getting pulled and a lot of bumps and bruises out there.

Hollywood sucks. I've got the bruises to prove it.

I have to admit, that's a remarkable bruise. You should be proud; it's quite a feat to get injured in the manner you did and in that...particular...place.

I have no real tattoos. I wear my bruises and tons of scars as my tattoos.

I'm the most uncoordinated clumsy, klutzy person. I always had a bruise, I always tripped and fell.

If a piece of worthless stone can bruise a cup of gold, its worth is not increased, nor that of the gold diminished.

I'll never forget one morning I walked in and I had a hell of a bruise - it had been a difficult night the night before - and a client said to me, 'Good God, Vidal, what happened to your face?' And I said, 'Oh, nothing, madam, I just fell over a hairpin.'

Let's just say it was damn hard [to make the Hangover]. I've got the bumps and bruises to show for it. It's funny because things that don't even look that bad on screen were still extremely painful.

Injuries, burns, and bruises will heal. But victory lasts forever.

I must fling myself down and writhe; I must strive with every piece of force I possess; I bruise and batter myself against the floor, the walls; I strain and sob and exhaust myself, and begin again, and exhaust myself again; but do I feel pain? Never. How can I feel pain? There is no place for it.

In order not to feel time's horrid fardel bruise your shoulders, grinding you into the earth, get drunk and stay that way. On what? On wine, poetry, virtue, whatever. But get drunk!

Let the blood and the bruises define your legacy.

I wish emotional bruises healed like physical ones.

She fell asleep, leaning on his chest, and he edged her a little off a particularly painful bruise, leaned his head back against the tree he had propped them up against, and closed his own eyes.

Life might hurt, might bruise, might forever scar, but it was for living.

No matter how much I feel, I’m not going to let it out. If I have to cry, I’m gonna cry on the inside. If I have to bleed, I’ll bruise. If my heart starts going crazy, I’m not gonna tell everyone in the world about it. It doesn’t help anything. It just makes everyone’s life worse.

Ow!" said Horace as the Ranger's fingers probed and poked around the bruise. Did that hurt?" Halt asked, and Horace looked at him with exasperation. Of course it did," he said sharply. "That's why I said 'ow!

Just because I do what I do doesn't mean I escaped adolescence, all the bumps and bruises that go along with it.

Men have feelings too, you know. You bruise the petals of my manflower.

Nobody cares that you're smart and nobody cares that your kids don't have bruises.

Okay, yeah, he staggered back and fell into the condiments. Big deal. There wasn't any blood. I didn't even get him in the face. He saw my fist coming, and at the last minute he ducked, so instead of punching him in the nose, like I intended, I ended up punching him in the neck. I highly doubt it even left a bruise.

Tate grabbed me, hugging me so hard, I knew I'd have bruises. He was probably unaware of it, not having had much time to get used to his new strength. I pushed at him, "Tate...you're squeezing me too hard." He let go of me so fast I almost staggered. "Oh Christ, I can't do anything right!

The human heart is like a millstone in a mill: when you put wheat under it, it turns and grinds and bruises the wheat to flour; if you put no wheat, it still grinds on, but then 'tis itself it grinds and wears away.

Sarcasm is not the rapier of wit its wielders seem to believe it to be, but merely a club: it may, by dint of brute force, occasionally raise bruises, but it never cuts or pierces.

There should be a drama series about women trying to figure out their mystery leg bruises.

The handkerchief dabbed at my forehead. 'Ouch! You'll have a fine-looking bruise tomorrow.' 'Then you'll be able to distinguish me from Rose.' The handkerchief paused. 'I could tell you apart from the beginning. You're quite different to each other, you know.' Perhaps he could tell, in the obvious ways. The odd one was Rose; the other odd one was Briony.