Best 127 quotes in «brokenness quotes» category

I choose my attitude. On many mornings, it can be difficult. Yet I choose to be a victor, not a victim. I choose to be better, not bitter. I select life over death. I pick blessings over brokenness. ...when I truly make my home in the presence of God Almighty -- through daily Scripture reading, prayer, and worship -- then I'm able to absolutely trust Him.

I'd never known that I could feel this broken and whole at once.

I found an empty chair and sat on it to find myself even emptier. I found a broken glass and looked at it to see my dissolved face a little prettier I found a steep doorway and entered in order to close my exit. From the poem 'Blue Stanzas

I forced my weary body up from the ground, my eyes burning with rage. I'd had enough of nearly dying. I'd had enough of secrets and mysteries. I was filled to the brim with pain and misery. It had taken its toll on me. It was hard to hold on to the very things that made you human, when there was nothing good left inside of you. In fact, I no longer felt human. I didn't feel anything except anger. It was time to find Kellan.

If you spend time judging and criticizing people, you will not have time to heal from your pain or brokenness. You cannot love yourself when you judge or criticize others who are created in God's image and after His Likeness...in which you are also created. Love cannot operate from a space of pain. Love and hurt cannot reside in the same space.

If we were never led up steep treacherous hills, through deep waters and barren deserts, how would we ever learn to depend on His all-sufficient grace?

If your relationship is draining your energy, making you lose yourself and taking your attention away from God, then you are not in a relationship but a cult. You are busy creating an idol (mini-God) for yourself.

I have broken where I should have bent; and have mused and brooded, when my spirit should have mixed with all God's great creation. The men who learn endurance, are they who call the whole world, brother. I have turned from the world, and I pay the penalty.

I look around at everybody laughing and joking together and struggle to understand my life has become a living hell that nobody present could even begin to imagine

I’m a mess of contradictions and you’re the unlucky one who is caught up in the crossfire.

I'm broken, but I have to learn how to live. I feel stuck together with scotch tape, like after any breath everything could come apart. If it does, if it all comes undone, I think I'll fall down and never rise again.

I may appear to be a broken pencil now but one day you will need me to dot you ‘i’ and cross your ‘t’.

In the contorted bookkeeping of the broken, the distance you hold yourself away from them is your only value.

...imperfections were God's way of demonstrating His perfection and strength in our lives and ... incredible blessings could come through periods of absolute brokenness... It was undeniable to us now that the fruit of such intense toil and heartache was even sweeter when you had to work so hard to harvest it.

In reality, I'm happy without you and I'm less free with your presence.

In some mysterious way, in all his brokenness, he reveals to us our own brokenness, our difficulties in loving, our barriers and hardness of heart. If he is so broken and so hurt and yet is still such a source of life, then I, too, am allowed to look at my own brokenness and to trust that I, too, can give life to others. I do not have to pretend that I am better than others and that I have to win in all the competitions. It’s okay to be myself, just as I am, in my uniqueness. That, of course, is a very healing and liberating experience. I am allowed to be myself, with all my psychological and physical wounds, with all my limitations but with all my gifts too. And I can trust that I am loved just as I am, and that I, too, can love and grow.

In the process of helping others, I helped myself. In acting out of my own brokeness I became whole again. It's the kind of strength and determination you find when you have hit rock bottom and you realize you could die right now - and want to, but realize that even death won't make the difference you were hoping for.

I thought if I could touch this place or feel it this brokenness inside me might start healing. Out here its like I'm someone else, I thought that maybe I could find myself if I could just come in I swear I'll leave. Won't take nothing but a memory from the house that built me.

Is your pathway littered with the debris of brokenness? I want to help you get past all that and learn to be still, and know that He is God.

I see the fragmented beauty of grace in their lives despite continued struggles. Beautiful mosaics formed by broken pieces.

I thought of the pieces of me I'd left behind, a piece here, a piece there, scattered like bread crumbs. How much of me was left?

I want to drag knives over my skin, just to feel something other than shame, but I'm not even brave enough for that

It's painful when the phantom of the past keeps on lingering you even you wanted to move on.

It's possible I've been through too much, lost too much. War damages different people in different ways; Hector taught me that. King Alejandro became spineless and incapable. His father before him was rash and unpredictable, if I'm to believe court gossip. Perhaps this is my damage. Maybe I am numb to fear because I am broken.

I want to share my story, and I want to know yours. I believe with all my heart that sharing our stories, the real, ugly, broken ones, is one of the most powerful things in the world, because to share our story we must first accept it. We must own it. We must stop running from it or shoving it into the corner when company comes over. To share our story is to admit that we've been changed.

Love can only be true and free when you are fully healed from painful past and any form of brokenness.

Maybe when we say we want to fall in love, we really mean we just want a place to fall apart.

May the Lord heal the broken hearted.

My dearest friend Abigail, These probably could be the last words I write to you and I may not live long enough to see your response but I truly have lived long enough to live forever in the hearts of my friends. I thought a lot about what I should write to you. I thought of giving you blessings and wishes for things of great value to happen to you in future; I thought of appreciating you for being the way you are; I thought to give sweet and lovely compliments for everything about you; I thought to write something in praise of your poems and prose; and I thought of extending my gratitude for being one of the very few sincerest friends I have ever had. But that is what all friends do and they only qualify to remain as a part of the bunch of our loosely connected memories and that's not what I can choose to be, I cannot choose to be lost somewhere in your memories. So I thought of something through which I hope you will remember me for a very long time. I decided to share some part of my story, of what led me here, the part we both have had in common. A past, which changed us and our perception of the world. A past, which shaped our future into an unknown yet exciting opportunity to revisit the lost thoughts and to break free from the libido of our lost dreams. A past, which questioned our whole past. My dear, when the moment of my past struck me, in its highest demonised form, I felt dead, like a dead-man walking in flesh without a soul, who had no reason to live any more. I no longer saw any meaning of life but then I saw no reason to die as well. I travelled to far away lands, running away from friends, family and everyone else and I confined myself to my thoughts, to my feelings and to myself. Hours, days, weeks and months passed and I waited for a moment of magic to happen, a turn of destiny, but nothing happened, nothing ever happens. I waited and I counted each moment of it, thinking about every moment of my life, the good and the bad ones. I then saw how powerful yet weak, bright yet dark, beautiful yet ugly, joyous yet grievous; is a one single moment. One moment makes the difference. Just a one moment. Such appears to be the extreme and undisputed power of a single moment. We live in a world of appearance, Abigail, where the reality lies beyond the appearances, and this is also only what appears to be such powerful when in actuality it is not. I realised that the power of the moment is not in the moment itself. The power, actually, is in us. Every single one of us has the power to make and shape our own moments. It is us who by feeling joyful, celebrate for a moment of success; and it is also us who by feeling saddened, cry and mourn over our losses. I, with all my heart and mind, now embrace this power which lies within us. I wish life offers you more time to make use of this power. Remember, we are our own griefs, my dear, we are our own happinesses and we are our own remedies. Take care! Love, Francis. Title: Letter to Abigail Scene: "Death-bed" Chapter: The Road To Awe

My parents are humans too. This has been one of my greatest awakenings in adulthood: my parents being regular people, too. They have baggage and losses, grown up in imperfect homes with imperfect families just as I did. Life hasn’t been easy on either of them between the mixture of poor decisions and bad breaks; this world lacks perfection for us all.

Nothing slips by God. Nothing catches Him off guard or takes Him by surprise, as it does us. He is always in control, always prepared and always waiting and able to meet your particular need, whatever that may be.

She couldn't get that a wanted a car that was a little broken. When something starts out perfect, it usually lets me down.

People aren’t broken. They’re just interestingly wired.

Rigorously comb through the pages of your life until you can even speak its broken dialects fluently.

Seriously, how many times can a person break before the only things left are shattered fragments too small to piece back together?

She is brave and strong and broken all at once. As she speaks it is as if her existence is no longer real to her in itself, more like a living epitaph to a life that was.

Plus, once he did the requisite double-take and recognized me, he’d probably beat the crap out of any guy who looked at me in all my Snow White meets Frederick’s of Hollywood glory.

She knew the difference between brokenness and people who were not real and all of that, but she just invited you in.

She made broken look beautiful and strong look invincible.

Some broken vases can still hold beautiful flowers

singing has to come from the inside, and i don’t have anything left inside.’ ‘really? How did that happen?’ ‘it all just drained out.

Some days punch us in the gut so hard it seems we can feel the whole universe gasp with despair.

Sometimes, it only seems that the hurt wins.

some of the people with the best smiles are actually broken inside

Sometimes broken people teach broken people how to be whole again.

Suffering reminds us of our brokenness, our humanity. It disarms us of our self-absorption and magnifies our need for one another.

(speaking of insecurity) "It's broken greater spirits than ours, and robbed the world of God knows how much beauty. I've seen it happen more times than I like to think about." --"$10,000 A Year, Easy

Suddenly, he felt a tremendous stirring of hope inside his heart; it filled his whole body with its warmth. I may not be that much of a broken man, he thought to himself.

Sometimes we have to sing through the scars. Sometimes a song is the only thing that heals the broken places in us. Only thing that breaks the chains on the heart.

There at the cross, we see all pain and darkness conquered in such a way that it is defeated forever. Not by disregarding it. Not by denying it. But by giving value even to our tears. By loving everything about us, including our very worst hurts.