Best 404 quotes in «vulnerability quotes» category

Love is not love until love's vulnerable.

Suffering is a call to conversion: it reminds us of our frailty and vulnerability.

Trust is the glue that holds relationships together.

True power is given to the vulnerable.

Vulnerability isn't a bad thing. Everyone's vulnerable and it only makes you human.

Vulnerability is a wonderful thing. We're all so afraid to be vulnerable in this world.

Vulnerability is not weakness.

What makes you vulnerable makes you beautiful.

Above all is the centrality of love at the heart of vulnerable faith. Vulnerability will thrive only where love abounds—a love that is generous, gracious, patient, compassionate, humble, curious, joyful, and full of hope. In the absence of fear and the bondage it inflicts on us, love will put down roots, grow, and extend its reach far beyond our expectations or natural capacity. Love we once reserved only for those closest to us can be offered even to those who would persecute us. Enemies are transformed into sisters and brothers and friends.

A culture of a shame and secrets is bound to hide its dirty laundry and continue the same offences for generations. You can't healthfully and successfully sweep your dysfunctions under the carpet and pretend nothing has happened. Whether it's your family culture, or your religious culture, or both, this is a great way to grow deep roots of poison and toxic dysfunction in all of your close relationships. It's a great way to destroy yourself and your loved ones. End the culture of secrecy. End the follied pride that seeks to cover up its shame rather than admit it. Face your offenses head on with a desire to fix them and heal.

A great need of something to lean on, and a great weariness of independence and responsibility took possession of my soul; and looking round for support and comfort in that transitory mood, the emptiness of the present and the blankness of the future sent me back to the past with all its ghosts.

To be is to be vulnerable.

Vulnerability can be empowering as a songwriter and storyteller.

Vulnerability is not a weakness but a faculty for understanding.

When we admit our vulnerability, we include others. If we deny it, we shut them out.

Where there is love, there is vulnerability to pain.

A happy person is not without sorrow or grief. Happiness is the acceptance of pain, not the lack of it.

A heart that can break is better than no heart at all.

All his life Harry Bosch believed he had a mission. And to carry out that mission he needed to be bulletproof. He needed to build himself and his life so that he was invulnerable, so that nothing and no one could ever get to him. All of that changed on the day he was introduced to the daughter he didn’t know he had. In that moment he knew he was both saved and lost. He would be forever connected to the world in the way only a father knew. - "Nine Dragons" by Michael Connelly

All of us risk being taken advantage of to some degree, but what would it be like to go through life this irremediably vulnerable, biologically unable to peel your heart from your sleeve and lock it safely inside?

...allowing yourself to be vulnerable makes you weak but also opens you to the nuances of beauty...

All the romantic lore of our culture has told us when we find true love with a partner it will continue. Yet this partnership lasts only if both parties remain committed to being loving. Not everyone can bear the weight of true love. Wounded hearts turn away from love because they do not want to do the work of healing necessary to sustain and nurture love. Many men, especially, often turn away from true love and choose relationships in which they can be emotionally withholding when they feel like it but still receive love from someone else. Ultimately, they choose power over love. To know and keep true love we have to be willing to surrender the will to power.

All the things that people do in order to show that they don't need anybody... meanwhile, all they really want to do is say, "Please keep me." We all want to be kept. The problem is we are too afraid to let anyone know about it. What are these fragile things in our hearts that have so much fear of being broken?

A love I was in no position to receive despite desperately needing it. No. Not I with my castaway, homeless body. Where would I store it? It would fall right through me, sink into the depths of my void. I would have needed so much love, more than any one person is capable of giving, to fill that gaping hole at the center of my life. And, besides his love had been capricious, inconsistent, flighty.

Amalia smiled, and that smile, although a sad one, lit up her sombre face, made her silence eloquent and her strangeness familiar. It was like the telling of a secret, a hitherto closely guarded possession that could be taken back, but never taken back entirely.

Amazing relationships aren't about making one perfect choice in your choice of partner. They're about the infinite amount of choices you make in each conflict, each conversation, and each moment to open yourself and to stay open, even when it's hard.

A mortifying sense of porousness.

Als het niets meer kan schelen wat anderen denken, verliezen we ons vermogen tot verbinding. Maar als we onszelf laten bepalen door wat anderen denken, verliezen we de moed om ons kwetsbaar op te stellen. De oplossing is om heel duidelijk voor ogen te krijgen wiens mening voor jou echt telt. Het moeten de mensen zijn die niet van je houden óndanks je onvolmaaktheden en kwetsbaarheden, maar óm je onvolmaaktheden en kwetsbaarheden. Als je op je gezicht ligt in de arena, zijn dat de mensen die je overeind zullen helpen en zullen bevestigen dat de val echt klote was, en je er vervolgens aan herinneren dat je dapper bent geweest en dat zij er ook de volgende keer zullen zijn om het zand van je af te kloppen. Neem ook mensen op die dapper genoeg zijn om te zeggen: ‘Daar ben ik het niet mee eens,’ of: ‘Ik denk dat je ernaast zit,’ en die je vragen zullen stellen als ze je dingen zien doen die indruisen tegen je waarden en normen.

and everyone wants to read the poem we’re afraid to write.

An artist is vulnerable and their craft truthful when he/she resists the desire to meddle with the wholesome expression of the soul

And so we exchange privacy for intimacy. We gamble with it, hoping that by exposing ourselves, someone will find a way in. This is why the human animal will always be vulnerable: because it wants to be.

And that reminds me of another memorable thing Linda once said to me: "There's so much strength in vulnerability. It's the ultimate gift you can give yourself because you allow yourself to open up; to invite someone in.

[A]nger in its pure state is the measure of the way we are implicated in the world and made vulnerable through love in all its specifics: a daughter, a house, a family, an enterprise, a land or a colleague.

Another great example of the power of vulnerability -- this time in a corporation -- is the leadership approach taken by Lululemon's CEO, Christine Day. In a video interview with CNN Money, Day explained that she was once a very bright, smart executive who "majored in being right." Her transformation came when she realized that getting people to engage and take ownership wasn't about "the teling" but about letting them come into the idea in a purpose-led way, and that her job was creating the space for others to perform. She chracterized this change as the shift from "having the best idea or problem solving" to "being the best leader of people.

All art is a form of vulnerability because at least part of the artist goes into the piece.

A poet is someone who never forgets they were born naked.

Apologies require vulnerability.

Armed I am with love. Disarmed I am.

Art evokes the suburb of our experiences, emotions, and longings; it transcendence beyond personal preference. Art is vulnerability. Art is intimacy. Art is mystery. Art is indefinite. Art evokes the truth.

A pastor from another church approached me and said, “Well, you got to remember one thing: Don’t become friends with those you minister to. Staff are employees and you just want to keep a professional relationship.” This left me in a dilemma.

Anthropologist Victor Turner writes that we are most free to explore identity in places outside of our normal routines, places that are in some way "betwixt and between." Turner calls them liminal, from the Latin word for "threshold.

As children, a great number of us were taught by our parents, carers, extended family members, and teachers, that showing any form of emotional vulnerability was “not OK.” We were conditioned to believe that in order to be acceptable as human beings, we had to be like the other children. We were taught to “suck it up,” “stop being cry babies,” “get thicker skin,” “stop being so sensitive” and go participate with the other kids, even if they overwhelmed us with their energy.

As women, wea re given a great give: our purity. And everything that makes us who we are emotionally - our feminine nature, our sensitivity, our vulnerability, and our desire to give ourselves fully to one man - is part of that gift. Our purity is a treasure. it is so much more than just our physical virginity, it starts with who we are on the inside.

(A)t least simulated vulnerability is bearable/for those/who cannot/withstand unreasonable tenderness.

A true friendship is one where you share both Philosophies and Vulnerabilities”.

As historian Albert L. Hurtado wrote, "War, pestilence, and famine blow books around the planet like so many hostages to uncertain fortune. Thieves steal, vandals deface, pious clergy burn, and worms eat books. Whether threatened by worms or war, there is nothing permanent about books and libraries.

A weak and dying Messiah is the very antithesis of a man-made cure.

Babies are soft. Anyone looking at them can see the tender, fragile skin and know it for the rose-leaf softness that invites a finger's touch. But when you live with them and love them, you feel the softness going inward, the round-cheeked flesh wobbly as custard, the boneless splay of the tiny hands. Their joints are melted rubber, and even when you kiss them hard, in the passion of loving their existence, your lips sink down and seem never to find bone. Holding them against you, they melt and mold, as though they might at any moment flow back into your body. But from the very start, there is that small streak of steel within each child. That thing that says "I am," and forms the core of personality. In the second year, the bone hardens and the child stands upright, skull wide and solid, a helmet protecting the softness within. And "I am" grows, too. Looking at them, you can almost see it, sturdy as heartwood, glowing through the translucent flesh. The bones of the face emerge at six, and the soul within is fixed at seven. The process of encapsulation goes on, to reach its peak in the glossy shell of adolescence, when all softness then is hidden under the nacreous layers of the multiple new personalities that teenagers try on to guard themselves. In the next years, the hardening spreads from the center, as one finds and fixes the facets of the soul, until "I am" is set, delicate and detailed as an insect in amber.

Beautifully Human We are all beautifully human. Sometimes we break, Sometimes we get angry, Sometimes we lose hope, But most importantly, We are still beautifully human. Vulnerable. Unique. Enduring. We are no less a person for our hurt.

As is often the case when I travel, my vulnerability -- like not knowing what the hell I'm going to do upon arrival -- makes me more open to outside interactions than I might be when I'm at home and think I know best what needs to be done. On the road, serendipity is given space to enter my life.