Best 5825 quotes in «hurt quotes» category

Rigor Mortis.” I say, almost as an apology. But he won’t have any of it. He locks onto my gaze. He doesn’t lean forward, but he doesn’t need to, suddenly the room feels like it’s filled with him. His presence floats in the air like a noxious gas, and I’m breathing it in. “Ike, you don’t get it. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. Do you think I have the right to talk to anyone? Do you think its fun to have a ‘human’ brain in a pet’s body? Sure, I have Kamu. And that’s fugging great, but guess what? Kamu is queen to be, and emotionally unstable.” I've never heard Rig talk this powerfully before, but he doesn’t seem scary, just sad. “And then I get someone else I can actually talk to, Ike, I get you. And you don’t treat me like I’m a pet and you talk about Kamu like she needs to be protected and you are there. You are there, and you keep being there, and the only one who’s ever there is Kamu, but now there is Ike. And Ike is perfect, albeit a bit dense, but perfect.” “Rig, I’m really sorry bu-“ I start, I don’t know how much more of this I can take. With each sentence Rig loses some of his force, he sounds more pathetic and lost. “I’m not done.” He pronounces the words in such a voice that it makes me shut up more than the context of the sentence does. “And all I want is to be with this boy who is there, this boy who is my friend, this boy who isn’t always caught up in politics. All I want is to have my one good break.” He finishes. I keep holding his eye contact, and his eyes, they already reflect hurt and rejectment. I don’t know if from me…or from life.

Riluci d'oro dove la vita ti ha scheggiato

Saat kita sudah lebih dewasa, saat ambisi dan harga diri tidak ada lagi di antara kita, apakah kita bisa kembali bersama?

RYLAN!" The yell comes out of nowhere and nearly gives me a heart attack. Tearing my eyes away, I watch as Babette comes crashing through the undergrowth. With no regard that I might be severely injured, she bounds over and grabs me in a bear hug. "Rylan! Oh my God, Rylan," Babette whimpers. She gently rocks me like I'm five years old again. There are some more footsteps, and Aidan and Nadia soon appear. Relief fills both their faces, with Nadia crying happily on Aidan's shoulder. Just as I think she's going to crush me, Babette finally pulls back, her face shiny with tears. "Rylan, I thought I'd lost you. I thought I was never going to see you again. I—" I hold up a hand. "Babette, it's okay. I'm alive. Not perfect, but I'm alive." I gesture to my leg. "Holy crap!" the twins say together, staring at my leg in horror and disgust. It only takes one glance for Nadia to really start sobbing. "Nadia! Nadia...don't cry," I murmur in an attempt to comfort her. Since she's such a happy person most of the time it hurts to see her like this. "It'll heal up. It's fine." "B-but it-it's horrible! You near-nearly drowned an-and now you're hurt!" Aidan pulls her into an awkward hug, trying to calm her down.

Sakit itu biasanya dari pikiran.

Samuel," Amelie said, and her voice was low and quiet and warm. She bent closer to him. "Samuel. Come back to me." His eyes opened, and they were all pupil. Scary owl eyes. Claire bit her lip and thought again about running, but Hans and Gretchen were at her back and she knew she didn't have a chance, anyway. Sam blinked, and his pupils began to shrink slowly to a more normal size. His lips moved, but no sound came out. "Breathe in," Amelie said, in that same quiet, warm tone. "I'm here, Samuel. I won't leave you." She stroked fingers gently over his forehead, and he blinked again and slowly focused on her. It was like there was nobody else in all the world, just the two of them. Amelie was wrong, Claire thought. It isn't just that Sam loves her. She loves him just as much.

Sam, I know you’re upset over what happened with you and Drake,” Astrid began. “Upset?” Sam echoed the word with an ironic smirk. “But that’s no excuse for you keeping secrets from us.” “Yeah,” Howard said, “Don’t you know only Astrid is allowed to keep secrets?” “Shut up, Howard,” Astrid snapped. “Yeah, we get to lie because we’re the smart ones,” Howard said. “Not like all those idiots out there.” Astrid turned her attention back to Sam. “This is not okay, Sam. The council has the responsibility. Not you alone.” Sam looked like he could not care less about what she was saying. He looked almost beyond reach, indifferent to what was going on around him. “Hey,” Astrid said. “We’re talking to you.” That did it. His jaw clenched. His head snapped up. His eyes blazed. “Don’t push me. That wasn’t you with your skin whipped off and covered in blood. That was me. That was me who went down into that mine shaft to try to fight the gaiaphage.” Astrid blinked. “No one is minimizing what you’ve done, Sam. You’re a hero. But at the same time—” Sam was on his feet. “At the same time? At the same time you were here in town. Edilio had a bullet in his chest. Dekka was torn to pieces. I was trying not to scream from the…You and Albert and Howard, you weren’t there, were you?” “I was busy standing up to Zil, trying to save Hunter’s life,” Astrid yelled. “But it wasn’t you and your big words, was it? It was Orc who stopped Zil. And he was there because I sent him to rescue you. Me!” He stabbed a finger at his own chest, actually making what looked like painful impact. “Me! Me and Brianna and Dekka and Edilio! And poor Duck.

Saya boleh dengar bunyinya, hati yang meretak, membisik, macam tilde-tilde.

Saying that you do not remember something or someone is a less embarrassing or hurtful way of saying that you do not know it or them anymore.

Screw the daring tough guy image, what happened with us broke me.

Search the whole world until you meet yourself.

Secrets only ended up hurting other people.

Selfish love hurts, selfless love heals.

Semua orang akan melukan engkau, semua orang akan membuatkan engkau kecewa. Yang itu engkau tak boleh nak elak, Dentang. Yang boleh engkau buat adalah memilih, luka dari siapa yang engkau sanggup tahan.

S'en est allée l'amante Au village voisin malgré la pluie Sans son amant s'en est allée l'amante Pour danser avec un autre que lui Les femmes mentent mentent

She ached: oh, how she ached. Her soul was like one big bruise.

She didn't care about anything, or maybe she cared too much.

She had loved him, she thought now, because, just at that time, she had had to have something else, someone else, to love, a private place for wounded love to go. But that had been, as she had then suspected and now knew, a device, a dream.

She felt justified in hurting him, because he had hurt her...but now all her justifications fell away like dead butterflies...

She had the blood of the sun running through her veins and the dust of stars at her fingertips. Her every breath birthed new cosmos and her thoughts were the super moon of the darkest night. Every word was a supernova and every step an inescapable singularity. Her touch though...it was soft.

She had the prettiest eyes & prettiest smile with Wounds on her heart and bruises on her soul~

She knew nothing of the massacre that went on around her, but when she released the wail of a broken hearted mother, one man heard her. The one who took her son's life.

She is beyond any mortal structure of words, yet she inspires the effort to try anyway.

She is not with me,this grief is not bigger then this happiness that she is with her choice

She looked at him with so much love that I had to turn away. At least I know what love looks like, I told myself. That's something. No one had ever looked at me like that, but I'd be able to recognize it if they ever did.

She realized the hurt from loss had never completely left. Instead, it had just scabbed over the hole hidden beneath the scar tissue.

She felt damned. As though she were marching to her death. She felt like had been sentenced. And yet she felt eerily free.

She has shared her hurt with me, and now a little bit of it is mine. This thing she couldn't bear alone, I can bear some of it, I can be hurt, too, and here's the thing you'd never expect about this kind of second-hand-hurt - it feels so good, it makes you feel whole, it makes you feel necessary, and even if you don't realize it right away, you'll find, as time passes, as the bearing of the hurt further intoxicates you, makes you more fully hers and she more fully yours, that you'll do anything to keep it; you'll say anything, you'll believe anything, you'll compromise anything, you'll build your self-worth around that tiny grain of hurt she lent you, and in return you'll hold her chin in your hand and run your thumb over the corner of her mouth and tickle the back of her earlobe with your finger and whisper to her over and over and over that "it's okay, it's okay, it's okay -

She, herself, had only been in love once and it ended worse than a train wreck would, and she hated herself for what she had become because of it. Because of her ex-boyfriend, she didn’t trust easily, she didn’t date as much anymore, and she found herself not believing in love anymore. She told herself that after him, she was never going to put her heart through love again.

She is not with me this grief is not bigger then this relax that she is with her choice

She laid in the rubble of the vengeant storm that passed by. They found nothing on her breathing body, except the stains of her predator

She puts her head on his shoulder, and for a second, it's like the other good night, the night of the bonfire, the brief lifting of the yoke, freedom from the circle: Marco hurting Anna, Anna hurting Ted, Ted hurting Rachel, these endless rounds of jealousy and harm.

She realized that her undiluted love had also given him the power to hurt her but she decided that spirit of the soul can always transcend the pain of the ego.

She's an array of undiscovered words, of feeling beyond my threshold. I'm just a man, trying to hold himself together in her wake.

She stares at it for several moments before taking it out from underneath the plastic film that covers it. Then she holds it with the affection of a mother for her new-born child, tender and loving; Preeti’s eyes soften briefly just for that moment. The lava of hurt makes way into her throat, setting ablaze all that she has held within. As memories meet sentience, the apartment echoes with her muffled cries. The photograph, a silent spectator, drenches in her grief as the tears start their descent.

She used to think alone was the answer. Alone would stop the whispers and the taunts. Alone couldn't get her into any more trouble. Alone meant not getting hurt. Now, she'd give anything to see another human being. To hear someone call her name

She swung her fist at Nicolae’s head. He raised an arm to block the blow, and she delivered a killing stab with her wooden dagger. Nicolae laughed, staggering dramatically to the ground. “Dead, again, at the hands of the ugliest girl in creation.” He stuck out his tongue, face contorted in a grimace. Lada kicked him in the stomach. “I am no girl. Who is next?” The other Janissaries, gathered in a loose circle around Lada and Nicolae, shuffled their feet and avoided eye contact. Nicolae pushed himself up on an elbow. “Really? Cowards!” “I still have bruises from the last time.” “I cannot sit without pain.” “She fights dirty.” Ivan did not even respond, having never forgiven Lada for besting him when they were introduced. He refused to fight her and rarely acknowledged her presence. Lada laughed, showing all her sharp teeth. “Because when you are on the battlefield, honor will mean so much. You will die with a blade between your ribs, secure in the knowledge that you fought with manners.” She picked up her dull practice sword, abandoned on the edge of the circle, and swung it through the air, sweeping it across the line of the Janissaries’ collective throats.

She wanted to hurt him. Hurt him bad. But she knew that his heart would forgive. So she hurt his mind. The mind that doesn't forgive. It remembers, for a very long time. And that's what she wanted. For him to remember always. What it means to get hurt, experience pain inside the brain, all the time. This would ensure that he never ever forgets her. The heart was weak, it always had room for forgiveness. But the mind did not.

She was beauty and intelligence stitched together with no seams She lived in a world with no difference between reality and dreams Excellence as habit, she was much more than simple flesh and bone She walked in the way that forced her presence to be known If I viewed the world in melody, she is the only one I would see She could conquer that world in a day and still have time for tea Soft lips curved in confidence spilling sweetness with every breath Ideas remaining and growing even after the revolving dance of death Fingers curled with the power of creation and the ease with which it came She sat upon a throne as a queen playing the world like a simple game She was fire, and laughter, and the warmth both of them brought She made the idea of perfection appear as a simple afterthought Her body danced with the tidal currents of marvelous desire She could reach the sky in a day and then push on even higher She was the best getting better, the absolute antonym of threshold The words she wrote were gilded, laid heavy with amber glow gold She was one of very many, and yet, she was the only one of them all Her taste made my mouth water, her effect hit me harder than alcohol She was quality, and substance, an actual angel in every way real Her word was solid, it was a better guarantee than a devil with a deal She was better than just human, more like power that has taken shape and form And I the lucky one who holds her close, feels her heartbeat quicken like a storm

She was a mimicry of a facade fashioned from the half-truths of her life. She was a beautiful abomination, patched together from the most pristine and terrible parts she could find. She was a black crystal of many cuts and facets whose dark glow suffocated and entranced those it washed over. There was a pointlessness in her eyes and apathy in her stature, and further in, past the symphonies of nightmarish screams was a blinding light. All the capability she could ever ask for kept in a place she would never reach. She chose the ice rather than the fire, shivering and hard with heat sparse, for while a flicker can exist in freeze's cold, it's heat will not radiate, no matter how bold. She took my face in hands that would make ice seem warm and whispered a blizzard into my ear, a cascading song of fear after fear. The lies she spilled, mixed with regrets and appeal, were cloaked in the inferno of her rage, the anger, the only thing that really made her real. This was her one semblance of life, a bottomless and endless void of proportions vast with a calamity of fusion and fission streaking through, a mindless hue, an emotion with a face, a darling of her race. The cracks spew darkness from within her ever so pale skin. They congregated on her curves and flesh in black and churning rivers and streams. They flooded every dip with blackness. They filled every hollow with unstable curiosity, this is her release, this is when she is free. The faces of deceit always laugh, they never wallow for their lies are a pleasure tool, her insides are contorted in laughter the same way, just as slick, just as cruel. A crude combination of fascination, of animation, of the darkest demons of them all. She was poetry written in pen, scratched and scribbled again and again. Ink splattered across the page, and within those scrawled words, those small, sharp incisions, an image can be seen, and you're left to wonder what, in the end, this all could mean...

She was an echo masquerading as a shadow and she followed me just the same. The night and its moon were her favor while the sunrise and sunlight the daggers that sliced her to ribbons. She looked through half closed eyes at a blind world filled with wide eyes staring at walls. She felt pity with no care while around here steamed a burden too dense to bear. In the hours before dawn her tears slide to her jaw as a soft song escapes from between her cracked lips. A barbed song of glory and woe that hugs her tight and steals her breath, each line a quiver, every word a bind. A cage in her image meant to be broken. Destroy and recreate, scar after scar shallow and deep, her dreams were her life and the nightmares her sleep. Dark circles under eyes that truly see, time while awake moves more slowly. It trickles past her, eroding her being and pulling on her delicate seams. She unravels a little each day, tucking the threads back in every which way. In the night she is flawless and clear, the moonlight dancing in swirls, throwing half formed monograms against her wall. She traces these curves and whispers her story, an imprint in an ocean of churning shadows. Her imagination plays a scene of a teary-eyed embrace on the shores of a former dream, where droplets of her soul fell wildly below, where they and her became a part of a much larger whole. A smile rips her taunt and clenched face, the memory of the feeling of an unreal embrace. She holds herself tightly in a corner with no light and shudders with every pinprick of the downpour of night. Though muffled by the glass of her self imposed flask, she hears the birds singing their song, the natural alarm of impending light. She waits patiently for the sun, counting the half seconds and making time slow, her grey eyes less than aimless and staring at the clouds. With half closed eyes now shining a golden haloed blue, she watches the sky change colors from soft to brilliant hue. The flood of life and color takes her by surprise every day and which way. The rip cuts a little more, her restless thoughts take note and pause. She just wants to scream. To swallow the vibrant light and flood her veins with all the color ever seen, a strange desire to fix what is broken and yet wanting to break. She loses count of the seconds in the wrinkles of her palms, mere dust to wind, ashes to gale. She recites the deadly seven and stops at lust, how different from love while still the same in a twisted way. Her knees press against the worn, wooden floor with no intent to pray, she just wants the numbness and the pain. There are some things right and a few that are wrong, feeling the breath of freedom tapered against the need to belong, The sun now vomits its light across the cragged horizon, illuminating manmade lines and verdurous fuzz, her rip widens in distaste and her mind frowns in disgust. Her heart hangs limp as a shattered mirror reflecting its own cracks, each inaudible beat a glimmer of a glimpse of something more than her created deceit. This is hope. In a fragile and faceted way, the reflects are abyss and ascension portrayed intertwined with no ties holding them together. She is the half second of the transition of the beat, the moment her heart begins to flex and show more than bones and maneuverable meat. She wonders about the subtle difference between spirit and soul and whether she needs only one or both to be whole. Shaking her head as if to dislodge her thoughts, they steer from the tracks and tumble and crash, destruction and turmoil birthing creation and a new path. She thinks about the way she thinks and comes full triangle, it feels right to be so jagged rather than unburdened as a circle. With a sigh and a breath, she stands against the weight of her shoulders and the unbalance of her feet. Her half closed eyes slowly fade to grey as the light and color in the sky changes and decays. She is the moments before the sun rises and sets-1-2-3

She was exactly right and wrong in the perfect sort of way. This kiss would be the first of many, she was the type of girl I would desperately fight for to stay.

She was the half-whispers born from half-thoughts, the half-breaths of dying half-hearts.

She wasted my heart, my time.

Shine in any season of your life! Head on with confidence in your life’s pilgrim! In deep faith, countless hope and unconditional love blessed by the Almighty. Newness of each rising day, bringing forth colourful sunsets. Enkindle your soul once more with courage, joy and love, flowing in a river of awakening & sharing: with a heart who once knew that hurt, pain, loss… means to SHINE!

So... Dell had been a good boy with bad friends. I knew this – I used to be one of them. I’d always known Dell would disappear one day; he was too decent, too golden. This place never tainted that, and I don’t know why. He made me feel dirty. Dark and corrupt. It hadn’t always that way, and I don’t know when it changed... but I felt it now. I only knew I couldn’t hold onto him tight enough to stop those long legs carrying him away somewhere better. A day’ll come when everybody’s had you and nobody wants you anymore... As Dell drove Erin away in their rent-a-car from the Holiday Inn into the early evening traffic, I felt the walls closing in, the world swelling around me, and I knew that day had finally come. Tomorrow, I leave Paradise. It’s true. Shanise was right. I turned away as the car disappeared up the slushy street. That was the last time I saw them alive.

She's hurt and still imagines I'd worry about him for even a second ? I touch her shoulder. Her touch her shoulder. Her dark hair brushes the back of my hand. Her dark eyes shine. Their brightness goes all the way down. "You found me," she says. I kneel beside her. I take her hand. "I found you". "My back is broken,"she says. "I can't walk." I slide my arms beneath her. "I'll carry you".

She speaks in heartbeats and the rises of her chest, words forever seared in thoughts that will never rest.

She's proud of you. She said so herself. And she knows you deserved a chance to be happy. I know that, too" I added. "I just wish Henry could look at me the way he looks at you." Persephone wrapped her fingers around mine. "You should be glad he doesn't. When he looks at me, he hurts. But when he sees you..." She smiled faintly "He has hope. I'm not surprised you don't notice it. It took me a while to read him, too. I spent thousands of years with him though, and I know that look. I saw it the day we got married. You don't forget the first time someone looks at you like that.

...she took away my yesterdays. But that's OK. Because now I am a person made of tomorrows.