Broken Quotes - Page 4

The commendable efforts of preachers to Europe is that Superstition regarding work and wealth was broken. Everybody now knows that wealth comes only from hard work, not from some superstitious beliefs.

She is brave and strong and broken all at once. As she speaks it is as if her existence is no longer real to her in itself, more like a living epitaph to a life that was.

Endings are abstruse, mystic and unreal. They are but depleted beginnings purposed to be substituted with newer ones.A transition of outlook and time, similar to our differing moods before and after slumber. Before the act we witness an exhaustion, a sulkiness but on gaining consciousness, we’re rejuvenated and good humored. The wakefulness is the new beginning whereas the tension the disturbance we perceive each night is the weariness of the beginnings, of each day. So there never really is an end, all that there are are beginnings.Beginnings which are promising, which offer hope, which have a new leash on life, which neither denounce nor belittle rather soothe and console by reconstructing the broken pieces of yesterday, mending them and reinforcing them with courage and beauty like never before.

We are all wonderful, beautiful wrecks. That's what connects us--that we're all broken, all beautifully imperfect.

Everyone gets broken. Everyone. Some grow stronger in those breaks. Others never recover.

When God wants to do an impossible task, He takes an impossible person and breaks her.

Why, oh why was I standing entranced when I should have been releasing my inner she wolf on his arse?

Jealousy is a mortal emotion. One that means I feel I have something to lose--something that, if gone, will tear away a part of me.

I found an empty chairand sat on itto find myself even emptier.I found a broken glassand looked at itto see my dissolved facea little prettierI found a steep doorwayand enteredin order to close my exit.From the poem 'Blue Stanzas

Let someone love you just the way you are- as flawed as you might be, as unattractive as you sometimes feel and as unaccomplished as you think you are. To believe you must hide all the parts of you that are broken, out of fear that someone else is incapable of loving what is less than perfect, is to believe than sunlight is incapable of entering a broken window and illuminating a dark room.

But sometimes it's the sunshine that frightens us more than the big black shadows.

I am a girl in want of complete destruction.

Right now we're both yard sales of emotions. A penny for pain. A dime for bitterness. A quarter for grief. A dollar for silence. It binds us together, but I don't want him to pay the price for the parts of me that are used and broken.

Specific parts of you personality may be angry and are usually easily evoked. because these parts are dissociated, anger remains an emotion that is not integrated for you as a whole person. Even though individuals with dissociative disorder are responsible for their behavior, just like everyone else, regardless of which part may be acting, they may feel little control of these raging parts of themselves.Some dissociative parts may avoid or even be phobic of anger. They may influence you as a whole person to avoid conflict with others at any cost or to avoid setting healthy boundaries out of fear of someone else’s anger; or they may urge you to withdraw from others almost completely.

To heal our world we must be silent; willing to listen to the roars of the wounded. We must teach eachother how to feel, only than can an entire nation grow in peace, as the war within will slowly diminish.

There are things that, when they break, they keep on functioning, just in some other, lesser way. Like an elevator: it breaks, and it's a room. An escalator: it breaks, and it's stairsThe heart is the same.It breaks, and you might not even notice, because you still feel things, you still have emotions.

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.

She looked around the room, glanced over him and Micah waited.Her Gaze passed him, then again. On the third pass she lingered as she continued to watch her, allowing his gaze to memorize those features just before her eyes met his.A jolt od power flashed through him. Her ligth blue eyes flickered with interest, fear, then interest again, as though she wasn't certain which she should feel.He let his gaze continue to hers, let his mind reach out to her, soothe her, ease her. He used his eyes rather than his expression to calm the fear that he knew he would be rising within her.Micah knew the power of a look. When two people touched from across a distance, that touch could be frightening, wary, or a stroke of gentleness. He stroked her gently. He never let his eyes dip below her chin; rather, he let himself take in every nuance of expression, every shift of each facial motion, the flicker of her lashes, the shadows in her eyes, the tension in her small body.She was like a little bird ready to fly. Poised at the edge of her seat.her body stiff and prepared to run.Easy, little bird, he thought, letting his thoughts touch his gaze. There is no pain here; there is no fear.

It is not a surprise that there are people we love and hate at the same time. Not as though we hate them, but we hate how they don't love us.

She wasn't a cruel Bird. But her heart ached so badly for these sad, broken birds that, just as the Puppeteer had planned, she had begun to hate them. She hated them for making her feel so wretched, when she should be happiest. That happens sometimes.

There comes a point where you no longer care if there’s a light at the end of the tunnel or not. You’re just sick of the tunnel.

We do crazy shit because we're broken.

I’ll be fine. I’m always fine.

Even when the strings are broken in our lives, the sweet music plays on in our hearts.

You can live for a long time inside the shell you were born in. But one day it'll become too small.""Then what?" I ask."Well, then you'll have to find a larger shell to live in."I consider this for a moment. "What if it's too small but you still want to live there?"She sighs. "Gracious, child, what a question. I suppose you'll either have to be brave and find a new home or you'll have to live inside a broken shell.

We are all broken in some way. But it’s all the shattered pieces that give us depth. Like stained glass, it’s how the pieces and colors fit together that truly makes us beautiful.

I’m sorry I broke you. It’s just that you’re so pretty, and I break pretty things.

I don't know why, but watching someone else break made me feel a lot less broken.

Growing up in the digital age, I'm expected to embrace all forms of modern technology with blissful ignorance. Books were always one of few escapes from this, because reading a book means not having to look at another damned glowing screen - which is why, no matter how "convenient" or "enhanced" digital enthusiasts claim that Ebooks are, I'll never see them as real books. They're just files of binary data, and while they might be considered books by a large amount of people, Ebooks have lost the human quality that real books have. You can argue that this is pretentious or stupid or nostalgic, but ultimately what will you pass down to your children and grandchildren? A broken old Kindle device with the same files that millions of other people have, or the dog-eared paperbacks that you fell in love with and wrote your name in and got signed by the author and flipped through in the bookstore and kept with you for years, like an old friend?

Everybody’s got sad stories.” Devon’s voice was as ungiving as stone. “And everyone thinks they’re so very special and broken because of them.

You write poems with your fingertipsAnd I keep listening to the songs written on my skinBy some distant dream, similar wordsBut the verses never meet...

We are designed to dance. To use our bodies as weapons of grace, beauty and intrigue. We are designed to stretch until we master growth. To replace old dead cells and be physically renewed each moment. So challenges don’t destroy us, they just should make us dance more swiftly and passionately. For when we dance we please God. Especially when we dance in brokenness.

I may have survived, but I am broken," I remind him sadly."No, Sunny, you're just a bit battered. We both are. Or if we're broken, that's only when we're alone. But now we're together, baby! And together, we're both whole.

I'd never known that I could feel this broken and whole at once.

Bitch, if I ain't a G, I'm an OG

One's suffering, one's melancholy is, in itself, really only looked upon as failure or as punishment, as detestable or sinful or socially unacceptable in the eyes of man; but this is not so in the eyes of God: for He is close to the broken-hearted.

And they can’t understand, what hurts more— Missing the other person, or pretending not to.

I always knew death of this relation would beat the death out of my life.

Don't focus on the words i write,pay attention to the ones i don't.These lines won't tell you much about me,try to read in between these lines.

Please don’t tell me, it was less painful than a broken backbone, a forgotten poem, a lost home.

I've heard you say so many a timeThat I know just the right words to say, just the right lines to rhyme...Today it's been 7 years since we last metI have learnt to say just the wrong words, just the lines you hate....

I feel like crying. There's something so sad about broken concrete.

Broken MelodyBroken melody — tear sparkling in the eyeOf a woman loved…Please past,Jewel lost,A trampled dreamLips unkissedIn the broken melody.With silent sobs the naked shoulders shake,Their whiteness dazzling…Stabbed, stabbed with remorseFor the moments of mindlessness,For her ruined fate,For the happiness lostIn the broken melody.Face hidden in her hands in shame,Remorsefully the woman weeps,With heart despairing(A broken guitar,A voice stifledOn lips kissed by painIn the broken melody).Silent he stands beside the woman weepingScolding tears of shameThat dim her eyes.Some money on the table quickly laysAnd goes away,Leaving the woman lostIn the broken melody.But when another comes, lust mounts again,The heated bloodPounds furiously through the veins,Benumbing mind… and only gaspsAnd grants are heardIn the horrid melody.(Translated by R.Elsie)

He was acting like our kiss had broken him, and his reaction was breaking me.

Astley comes to my side. "Are you well?" "No," I tell him, voice hoarse. "I am not well. I am broken inside. I am broken almost all-the-way deep, and I don't know...I don't know if I can ever be unbroken, let alone well again”.

No, you were certainly not trying to seduce me, more like trying to wound my ego, break my heart, I dunno. Did you like how you felt when you walked away? Do you prefer that emotion to this?

You make me greedy for you. I just can't get enough. I wish you would just accept it for what it is and trust me.

Go to God with your coal, and He will set them to blazing fire.

The journey of reinvention is one of raw emotionsEmerging from dormancySurprising as a paper cutOverwhelming as a hailstormOne part vulnerabilityOne part rageOne part surrenderUncomfortableUnfamiliarUnsureFearfulAloneDamagedBrokenAnd finding a new SelfSlowlyDifferentHealingHumblePresentOpenLongingFree

Trading old broken mirrors that feed lies into our souls for new mirrors of freedom requires choices.

You got beat up. Bones and bruises heal. Those girls didn't win because they didn't do what they wanted. They wanted to break you. I was already broken."You're not broken at all.

God travels wonderful ways with human beings, but he does not comply with the views and opinions of people. God does not go the way that people want to prescribe for him; rather, his way is beyond all comprehension, free and self-determined beyond all proof. Where reason is indignant, where our nature rebels, where our piety anxiously keeps us away: that is precisely where God loves to be. There he confounds the reason of the reasonable; there he aggravates our nature, our piety—that is where he wants to be, and no one can keep him from it. Only the humble believe him and rejoice that God is so free and so marvelous that he does wonders where people despair, that he takes what is little and lowly and makes it marvelous. And that is the wonder of all wonders, that God loves the lowly…. God is not ashamed of the lowliness of human beings. God marches right in. He chooses people as his instruments and performs his wonders where one would least expect them. God is near to lowliness; he loves the lost, the neglected, the unseemly, the excluded, the weak and broken.

At first, you get your jaw broken but next time you know better than anyone how to protect yourself.

I've always loved fixing broken things.If something fixed by myself caused a smile, I'd feel saved. In that case it would be worth it. And I was delighted.

I know all about broken things. I came from a broken house, and a broken land full of broken people. I have a broken soul and a broken heart. This man doesn't know it, but all his cracks align with mine.

I think happy thoughts and feel happy things and I do not let myself near the swirling black edges of the hole that is my soul when I look at them.

One small crack does not mean that you are broken, it means that you were put to the test and you didn’t fall apart.

Often it feels like I am breathing today only because a few years back I had no idea which nerve to cut...

People whose own dreams aren't completed, help others to accomplish their dreams.

Love is as simple as the absence of self given to another. God, when invited, fills the void of any unrequited love; hence loving is how one is drawn closer to God no matter its most horrific repercussions.