Quotes about Vulnerability

He could only say the one thing he was afraid to say: Will you hide in my house, master?

Agonies are one of my changes of garments; I do not ask the wounded person how he feels . . . . I myself become the wounded person, My hurt turns livid upon me as I lean on a cane and observe.

God gave people tear ducts for a good reason, and folks shouldn't be too stubborn to use them.

Let me say from conviction that tears are the outlet of the heart.

You rescued me when I thought nobody would. When I thought I wasn't worth the effort. You gave me everything and asked for nothing.' She pressed her face to mine. 'If this is love on the other side of the rescue, then I want to live it. With you. But,' She shook her head. 'But if you give you to me, then'- she placed her palm flat across my chest -'come heavy

All hearts have but one request. One simple, unspoken, undeniable need. One undeniable fear. "To be known.

Stripped bare, the human soul has one real desire: to know and be known.

All hearts have but one request. One simple, unspoken, undeniable need... To be known.

In my experience, it's those words on the tip of the tongue that we most need to hear. They are the key. The thing that's missing. But you can't pull them out. They have to be offered. Freely. And they won't be offered until the owner trusts you with them. And to do that means they've got to break through a world of hurt and pain just to get them out of their mouth. I caught my reflection in the mirror.

All hearts have but one request. One simple, unspoken, undeniable need. One undeniable fear. To be known. You can stamp it out. Kill it. Box it up and hem it in. Numb it and close the door. Bury it and nail it shut. Encase it in stone. But eventually, the needs of the heart will tear the door off the hinges, unearth it, and crack the stone. No prison ever built could house it. Those of us who think we can are lying to ourselves. And those next to us. Hope never dies.

I do know this: most people, myself included, are at their most vulnerable in a journal. They pour it all out. Sometimes a journal is the only ear that will listen, or at least the only one that you want to talk to.

It is a flower that sprouts and grows when others pour water upon it. I think sometimes that I spent so much time worrying about how to protect and strengthen the flower—even going so far as to graft in a new stem and root system—that I forgot to simply water it.