Best 5825 quotes in «hurt quotes» category

Cripples are not the stuff of romance. Only Lord Byron, dragging his club foot, springs to mind as an exception to the rule, but such a failing in a man is regarded as interesting, even provocative, rather than disfiguring. Women must submit to a more exacting measure.

Cry For Those Who Cares For You And Not For Them Those Who Makes You Cry

Cut anyone and everyone out of your life that makes you feel small, hurt, humiliated, stupid, worthless, etc. do it swiftly and violently and without remorse.

Cuz how do you know yer alive if you don't hurt?

Dads. Do you not realize that your child needs to feel your skin on his? Do you not realize the incredible and powerful bond that skin on skin contact with your daughter will give you? Do you not understand the permanent mental connections that are made when you stroke your son’s bare back or rub your daughter’s bare tummy while you tell bedtime stories? And if any idiot says anything about that being inappropriate, you’re gonna get kicked in the face, first by me, and then by every other good dad out there. Touching your child is your duty as a father.

Dads. It’s time to tell our kids that we love them. Constantly. It’s time to show our kids that we love them. Constantly. It’s time to take joy in their twenty-thousand daily questions and their inability to do things as quickly as we’d like. It’s time to take joy in their quirks and their ticks. It’s time to take joy in their facial expressions and their mispronounced words. It’s time to take joy in everything that our kids are.

Dads. Do you honestly expect anybody to believe that you can’t find 20 minutes to step away from your computer or turn off the television to play with your child? It has to happen every single day. Do you not understand that children will hinge their entire facet of trust on whether or not their dad plays with them and how involved he is when he plays with them? Do you know the damage you do by not playing with your children every day?

Dads. Do you not realize that a child is what you tell them they are? That people almost always become what they are labeled? Was whatever your child just did really the “dumbest thing you’ve ever seen somebody do”? Was it really the “most ridiculous thing they ever could have done”? Do you really believe that your child is an idiot? Because she now does. Think about that. Because you said it, she now believes it. Bravo.

Dads. Do your faces light up when you first see your child in the morning or when you come home from work? Do you not understand that a child’s entire sense of value can revolve around what they see in your face when you first see them?

Daniel in the den; a champion in the den

Dante laughed. "No cold soup, no goat cheese. I'll make a mental note. And no Gottfried Curse." "And for you it's no food at all. No sleep. And no tunnels." "I'm low maintenance." "Is that what you are? Because I've been trying to figure it out all semester." "And what have you concluded?" "A mutant. A rare disease. A creature from the inferno. Dante." "And what if you found out you were right?" he asked. "What if it meant that I could hurt you?" "I would say that I'm not scared. Everyone has the ability to hurt. It's the choice that matters.

DANTE: And what if you found out you were right? What if it meant that I could hurt you? RENEE: I would not say that I'm not scared. Everyone has the ability to hurt. It's the choice that matters.

Darling, I don't want you; I've got no place for you; I only want what you give. I don't want the whole of anyone. I haven't wanted to hurt you; I haven't wanted to touch you in any way. When I try and show you the truth I fill you with such despair. Life is so much more impossible than you think.

Das Mädchen […] hatte wasserblaue Augen, die so klar waren, als hätten sie noch nie im Leben Leid oder Schrecken gesehen. Und dennoch spiegelte sich darin auch Härte. Was hast du erlebt, dass du dich nun an einen Krieg verkaufst?, hätte Summer sie am liebsten gefragt. Weißt du, was du tust? Weißt du, wie es ist, grausam zu sein, zu leiden und zu sterben?

Dimka, not you too.

Distance yourself from the ones who have the power to hurt you!

Does it scare you to break inside or are you hiding the remnants of a broken you?

Domestic violence does not discriminate. Anyone of any race, age, sexual orientation, religion or gender can be a victim – or perpetrator – of domestic violence. It can happen to people who are married, living together or who are dating. It affects people of all socioeconomic backgrounds and education levels.

Don’t ask why people keep hurting you. Ask yourself why are you allowing it to happen.

Don't go for a man's throat when he hasn't hurt you.

Don’t break my heart. Crush it. Destroy it. Let me wallow it until I feel hollow in it. I’ll bash in the pain. I’ll scream your name and then one day I suddenly won’t.

Don't even try making out I’m making this up. I’ve got proof. Evidence.

Don’t ever forget you are beautiful, although your life, your past and your present situation may be ugly. You are beautiful.

Don't let anyone or anything to dull your sparkle.

Don’t live your life with anger and hate in your heart as you will only be hurting yourself more than the people you hate.

Don’t hold on because you think there will be no one else. There will always be someone else. You’ve got to believe you are worth more than being repeatedly hurt by someone who doesn’t really care. Believe that someone will see what you are really worth and treat you the way you should be treated.

Don’t want no more rock,” Orc repeated. The bleeding stopped almost immediately. “Does it hurt?” Lana asked. “I mean the rock. I know the hole hurts.” “No. It don’t hurt.” Orc slammed his fist against his opposite arm, hard enough that any human arm would have been shattered. “I barely feel it. Even Drake’s whip, when we was fighting, I barely felt it.” Suddenly he was weeping. Tears rolled from human eyes onto cheeks of flesh and pebbles. “I don’t feel nothing except…” He pointed a thick stone finger at the flesh of his face. “Yeah,” Lana said. Her irritation was gone. Her burden was smaller, maybe, than Orc’s.

Drake's whip hand spun Diana like a top. She cried out. That sound, her cry, pierced Caine like an arrow. Diana staggered and almost righted herself, but Drake was too quick, too ready. His second strike yanked her through the air. She flew and then fell. “Catch her!” Caine was yelling to himself. Seeing her arc as she fell. Seeing where she would hit. His hands came up, he could use his power, he could catch her, save her. But too slow. Diana fell. Her head smashed against a jutting point of rock. She made a sound like a dropped pumpkin. Caine froze. The fuel rod, forgotten, fell from the air with a shattering crash. It fell within ten feet of the mine shaft opening. It landed atop a boulder shaped like the prow of a ship. It bent, cracked, rolled off the boulder, and crashed heavily in the dirt. Drake ran straight at Caine, his whip snapping. But Jack stumbled in between them, yelling, “The uranium! The uranium!” The radiation meter in his pocket was counting clicks so fast, it became a scream. Drake piled into Jack, and the two of them went tumbling. Caine stood, staring in horror at Diana. Diana did not move. Did not move. No snarky remark. No smart-ass joke. “No!” Caine cried. “No!” Drake was up, disentangling himself with an angry curse from Jack. “Diana,” Caine sobbed. Drake didn’t rely on his whip hand now, too far away to use it before Caine could take him down. He raised his gun. The barrel shot flame and slugs, BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM. Inaccurate, but on full automatic, Drake had time. He swung the gun to his right and the bullets swooped toward where Caine stood like he was made of stone. Then the muzzle flash disappeared in an explosion of green-white light that turned night into day. The shaft of light missed its target. But it was close enough that the muzzle of Drake’s gun wilted and drooped and the rocks behind Drake cracked from the blast of heat. Drake dropped the gun. And now it was Drake’s turn to stare in stark amazement. “You!” Sam wobbled atop the rise. Quinn caught him as he staggered. Now Caine snapped back to the present, seeing his brother, seeing the killing light. “No,” Caine said. “No, Sam: He’s mine.” He raised a hand, and Sam went flying backward along with Quinn. “The fuel rod!” Jack was yelling, over and over. “It’s going to kill us all. Oh, God, we may already be dead!” Drake rushed at Caine. His eyes were wide with fear. Knowing he wouldn’t make it. Knowing he was not fast enough. Caine raised his hand, and the fuel rod seemed to jump off the ground. A javelin. A spear. He held it poised. Pointed straight at Drake. Caine reached with his other hand, extending the telekinetic power to hold Drake immobilized. Drake held up his human hand, a placating gesture. “Caine…you don’t want to…not over some girl. She was a witch, she was…” Drake, unable to run, a human target. The fuel rod aimed at him like a Spartan’s spear. Caine threw the fuel rod. Tons of steel and lead and uranium. Straight at Drake.

Do we not see the influence we have when we say we believe in one thing, but our children see us living something else? Do we not realize how little we encourage our children to actually decide what they believe, declare what they believe, and then live by it? Whether it’s religion, politics, sports, or societal norms. It is not our place to tell our kids what to think. It is our place to teach our kids to think correctly. If we do this, we need have no fear of what they will decide for themselves and how strongly they’ll stand behind it. A man will follow his own convictions to his death, but he’ll only follow another man’s convictions until he steps in manure.

Down the road of hate, at every busted corner lurks the need for love.

Do you ever feel as if everything surrounding you is in slow motion, moving through tar? There you are - and there's the world. You're outside staring in the window, observing reality happen, but you don't exist in it. You just watch, and watch. That's how I feel, like the dead butterfly staring back at you through the glass.

Do you think you can wait - because I don't want you to stop loving me. I keep remembering us and how it was. I don't want to hurt you...not ever...

Don't win someone you're willing to lose

Dotakne ti neko srce, posle je sve nebitno. Jedna osoba ga promeni i srce ostaje takvo. Obelezeno do kraja svih emocija.

Do you know something about the broken people? They are exactly like a mirror that is been punched and dropped on the floor into pieces and been joined back together. When you stand in front of them they create hundreds of your reflections, but still none of them complete and the moment you try to touch them they will try to hurt you, not because they don't like your reflection in them, it is just because they are afraid of falling again and breaking into more pieces. If you could only see how it feels to be that broken mirror you would never do something that would break a mirror again.

Dream hurts; yet we never stop dreaming; just like the way love hurts but we still love to love

Drowning in silence; for in silence I shall never be disappointed …

Each day we kill a compulsive love with our impulsive actions.

Each Fable is inspired by some true stories which doesn't have an happy ending, unlike the Fable.

Eliza: The problem with YOU is that you don't take the RESPONSIBILITY for anything@ You think you can just run around, doing whatever you want to whoever you want, and that it's going to be fine. That everything is just going to be TAKE CARE of for you, with no consequences. Cooper: No. I don't, and I have had consequences from what happened with me and you. Eliza: Yeah? Like what? Cooper: I lost you, that was my consequence.

Enough tiny sharp jabs can cut as deeply as any knife.

Embrace all. Help some. Trust few. Harm none.

Escapaba a su comprensión el que un ser, independiente del parentesco que pudiera tener con otro, así no más, con la mano en la cintura rechazara de una manera tan brutal una atención.

Even if my wings broken, even if i couldn't fly anymore, I would rather to stay here, with you, with all your wounded stories, that slowly began to hurt me.

Even the strongest hearts can be fragile. It takes only seconds to hurt someone. But sometimes it takes years to repair the damage. Cherish the hearts that love you.

Even in the running away from hurting, there is hurting. In opening unprotected to the experience that is enslaving you with its torment, there is the willingness to be free. Are you willing? Or do yo just want to wait until the world finally gets it and does it your way?

Even the very best people found ways to hurt the ones they loved.

Even though your words hurt the most, I still want to hear them everyday.

Even when someone hurts you, you choose how to struggle, resist, deny and receive.

Everybody hurts, sometimes.