Best 70 quotes in «numb quotes» category

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    A lecturer often makes you feel dumb at one end and numb at the other.

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    He was numb except for dreading the loss of numbness.

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    It seems to me that violence against women has been tolerated for so long that the world has become numb to it.

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    If something anticipated arrives too late it finds us numb, wrung out from waiting, and we feel - nothing at all. The best things arrive on time.

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    Knowledge can be a subtle curse. When we learn about the world, we also learn all the reasons why the world cannot be changed. We get used to our failures and imperfections. We become numb to the possibilities of something new

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    I'm drinking champagne, got the head phones up high, can't numb you out.

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    My philosophy on getting knocked out is that it renders you unconscious and numb, so why worry about it.

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    Loyal companions are an unequaled grace, stanching fear before it bleeds you numb, a reliable antidote for creeping despair.

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    Playing live is very exhausting, which is partly why I feel so tired today. But I've always wanted to live like that. I'd rather feel the experience than to be sort of feeling something in between and dull and numb. I love feeling the highs and the lows, it makes life far more exciting.

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    Sometimes sadness is appropriate. Not something to run from, not something to numb...just something to feel.

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    People are sort of numb to watching violence, but sexual activity is still as strong as it ever was in terms of generating response.

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    You can't fix stupid, but you can numb it was a 2 by 4.--T-SHIRT

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    That I would be loved even when I numb myself. That I would be good even when I am overwhelmed. That I would be loved even when I was fuming. That I would be good even if I was clingy.

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    When I look at a pie chart, I just go numb.

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    As I looked out at the water, I realized there was nowhere to go, nowhere left to run. And I just had to stay here facing this terrible truth. I felt, as more tears fell, just how tired I was, a tiredness that had nothing to do with the hour. I was tired of running from this, tired of pretending that things were okay when they had never, ever been less okay.

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    A torpid heart in agony needs a pen to bleed

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    Bad is the world; and all will come to nought, When such ill dealing must be seen in thought.

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    And with every step I took it became more impossible for me to turn back. And my mind was empty—or it was as though my mind had become one enormous, anaesthetized wound. I thought only, One day I'll weep for this. One of these days I'll start to cry.

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    Certain parts of me became a little bit forgotten, a little bit numb, a little bit dead, and it was nice to have some dead places in me for a little while, to lose a little bit of my broken mind.

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    Better to feel nothing, to be numb, than to lose control. It's the only way I know to deal with it.

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    You're kind of numb after 50 shots to the head.

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    Every single ounce of pain focused on the left part of the head. Feels like whole body except left part of head is in fucking numb state.

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    Dissociation, a form of hypnotic trance, helps children survive the abuse…The abuse takes on a dream-like, surreal quality and deadened feelings and altered perceptions add to the strangeness. The whole scene does not fit into the 'real world.' It is simple to forget, easy to believe nothing happened.

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    Do you want me to have them sedate you until it's over?

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    Girls are genius at getting through sexual abuse. Often the only way to get through is not to feel. And that is exactly what these fantasy worlds allow: They give girls a place to go so they don't have to be present in their violated bodies. Brilliant.

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    Dissociation gets you through a brutal experience, letting your basic survival skills operate unimpeded…Your ability to survive is enhanced as the ability to feel is diminished…All feeling are blocked; you ‘go away.’ You are disconnected from the act, the perpetrator & yourself…Viewing the scene from up above or some other out-of-body perspective is common among sexual abuse survivors.

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    Emily woke to shadows and their voices. They looked different today, because the entire world hurt. The numbness had worn off sometime between sleep and awake, and she was seeing red. The shadows on the walls were not shadows at all, but red blobs consisting of teeth and claws. Her house reeked of pain. The whole world was fucking bleeding.

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    He thought perhaps it was a woman's way, to come out of such a storm of emotion and pain as if she were a ship emerging onto calm seas. She had seemed, not at peace, but emptied of sorrow. As if she had run out of that particular emotion and no other one arose to take its place.

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    He lost his mind trying to understand hers. He set his heart on fire so that his love could warm the coldness of her heart. But coldness and numbness were just walls that she hid behind. And it’s kind of strange how the woman who holds the love of the world in her heart, she is the scariest to love….

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    Her expression almost never changed. Made it hard to tell what she was thinking. But also made her seem separate from the rest of the world. It was like she lived so deep in the ocean even light couldn’t reach her. Like a fish that couldn’t see the dark lonely depths, because it was always dreaming about sunlight.

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    I couldn't believe I let him see me like this, unable to fend for myself. I fumed in disgust at my vulnerability. I didn't want Evan to think I needed protecting. I pulled back my torment and let the numb blanket envelop me, pushing away the stirred memories, the noise of the crowd, and the trembling that still lay beneath the surface. I stared at the flames licking at the darkness and everything was lost as I sank deeper into nothingness.

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    I feel something change in me... I feel a flat calm, a detachment, the way I get when something is too much and yet l must function and in fact function at the highest level. I know what I'm in for, only a fool wouldn't know that...

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    I am not angry, I am not sad, I have no questions, I need no answers, For, I am numb. I can’t cry, I can’t smile, I can’t laugh, I can’t giggle, For, I feel numb. I don’t argue, I don’t think, I don’t talk, I can’t fight, For, I feel numb and Somehow, I just know Being ‘numb’ is worse Than anything else!

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    How can you see into my eyes like open doors Leading you down into my core Where I've become so numb without a soul My spirit sleeping somewhere cold Until you find it there and lead it back home

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    I don't sleep. I just let my body lie itself into numbness and lie to myself that I can't hear, see, or feel anything.

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    I feel no emotional connection to these outwardly human gestures. I am not there, because I never left Afghanistan.

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    I felt like I had been numb most of my life, and now I craved being able to have real feelings: the joy, the sadness, and everything in between.

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    Maybe I needed that somebody else could cry over my pain, to become able to cry over it myself. Nobody ever cried or was moved when I suffered as a child. (Lisa)

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    I lived my grief; I slept mourning and ate sorrow and drank tears. I ignored all else.

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    I felt a catch in my chest and a pulsing in my ears and then I felt calm and numb, with a fuzziness that I couldn't think through, much thicker than before.

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    In the dead of night I stirred. Wakefulness flowed back into me. I was a cup full of sorrow, but that sorrow was stilled, like a pain that abates as long as one does not move.

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    I think the best shaped box ever on earth is a coffin which can be handmade to escort the forever numb-hands.

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    It was strange how in that moment of tragedy, it had seemed so unreal, like an old-fashioned movie reel playing on a screen for my eyes only. The pain and broken heart were blocked off for a little while, leaving me numb with disbelief. Shock is what Dad called it. But after a while, the cruel reality started to seep into my tissues, and my body became a sponge, just sucking it all up until, finally, there was so much grief inside, I couldn't help feeling it. That's how it happened for me. First, the numbness right after she died, next the agonising pain and then the place I was at now—the land of perpetual depression.

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    I was last. Sam walked up and held me for a long time. Finally, she whispered in my ear. She said a lot of wonderful things about how it was okay that I wasn't ready last night and how she would miss me and how she wanted me to take care of myself while she was gone. 'You're my best friend,' was all I could say in return. She smiled and kissed my cheek, and it was like for a moment, the bad part of last night disappeared. But it still felt like a goodbye rather than a 'see ya.' The thing was, I didn't cry. I didn't know what I felt. Finally, Sam climbed into her pickup, and Patrick started it up. And a great song was playing. And everyone smiled. Including me. But I wasn't there anymore.

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    I was enveloped in numbness, and absence of feeling so deep the bottom was lost from view.

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    I think that certain emotions can compromise you when you’re at war. If you stop to mourn the dead, or even to breathe in what you’ve done, you’ll be dead as well. Your brain goes to a primitive region, one inaccessible to feelings beyond pure anger and pure fear. Your brain is reduced to two impulses: fight or flight. Kill or be killed. No room for more delicate feelings. No room for a soul. All you’re thinking about is how to maneuver your body in space so it will survive.

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    Miranda was dark, like a midnight sky. But as she fell, her eyes shone like stars themselves.

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    no concept of danger, reality, flow or compassion. you can feel the despair escaping from their machines, their lives as hopeless and as numbed as yours.

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    Please thaw my permafrost heart.

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    Nothing much bothered you for a while and you kept walking like a silhouette through this town, saying hi’s and goodbyes, acting polite at all times. But there is no fire in your heart; you are not very concerned.