Quotes about wound

There are various wounds to describe our hurtsthe deepest one is the most painful.

I died of a broken heart.Oh! And the gunshot wound to the chest!

The wound can be healed by the word of God.

He wounds but he heals.

The wound is the seed of wonder.

Every wound is a word.

Hearts Live By Being Wounded

Amma and Malati called her a beggar, a whore, and it was clear from the disbelief on her face that she had never been spoken to in such manner. [....] On that day I became convinced that it is the words of women that deeply wound other women.

Lust is a mysterious wound in the side of humanity; or rather, at the very source of its life! To confound this lust in man with that desire which unites the sexes is like confusing a tumor with the very organ which it devours, a tumor whose very deformity horribly reproduces the shape.

You're badly wounded.You're bleeding but not cut.You feel like dying but you're not.It’s a Love accident an emotional injury.You are not going to the hospital, aren't you?You don't need medicines and first aides, don't you?You just need to move on. Accept it, forgive and forget it.

Joanna Macy writes that until we can grieve for our planet we cannot love it—grieving is a sign of spiritual health. But it is not enough to weep for our lost landscapes; we have to put our hands in the earth to make ourselves whole again. Even a wounded world is feeding us. Even a wounded world holds us, giving us moments of wonder and joy. I choose joy over despair.

A soul wound doesn't grow a new layer of normality overnight" Cinderella in Focus: Cindy'Secret

...when you enter a room, my wound opens, but there is light, always light, when you come in...

For it was the light, that was flowing in her veins but not blood. Every time she was wounded, she killed the demons in the dark, rather than feeding and keeping them alive.

I have learned that I should be careful with the words I choose to say when I am angry because later, those words always leave a huge wound of regrets in my heart besides hurting the loved ones. Those wounds can't be healed!

Maybe that's what we do to the people we love: take shots in the dark and realize too late that we've wounded the people we are trying to protect.

Be careful of broken people. Their sharp edges may cut you.

Child, child, love while you can The voice and the eyes and the soul of a man; Never fear though it break your heart-Out of the wound new joy will start; Only love proudly and gladly and well, Though love be heaven or love be hell.Child, child, love while you may, For life is short as a happy day; Never fear the thing you feel-Only by love is life made real; Love, for the deadly sins are seven, Only through love will you enter heaven.

Night-time is being brushed aside like so much cobweb. The day is wound up and begins even before the last haunted dreams, the last of the fog, those spectral and evanescent residues, have faded away.

Time heals all wounds.

Oh, the pain of it, thought Lee, thinking about his children, oh! the exquisite pain of unrequited love. The only authentic wound, the sweet curse they inflict on you, the revenge of heterosexuality.

Sure that there was an attainable bliss somewhere beyond the decimal point in the p of his sexual trysts, I felt that maybe he had already attained what I was looking for, a more instinctual regard for sex, an equality among thirsts. He had done what I wanted to do: washed the wound of appetite in a relentless waterfall of sweat and semen.

Sex before love is like a bandage before a wound.

A wound won't heal if you keep touching it.

Give it air & let the scar on your soul reveal itself, because, like the body, it too was made to heal itself.

A simple touch of kindness can heal a wound of the soul which no medicine can touch.

Love is a fire that burns unseen,a wound that aches yet isn’t felt,an always discontent contentment,a pain that rages without hurting,a longing for nothing but to long,a loneliness in the midst of people,a never feeling pleased when pleased,a passion that gains when lost in thought.It’s being enslaved of your own free will;it’s counting your defeat a victory;it’s staying loyal to your killer.But if it’s so self-contradictory,how can Love, when Love chooses,bring human hearts into sympathy?

The death of Nighteyes gutted me. I walked wounded through my life in the days that followed, unaware of just how mutilated I was. I was like the man who complains of the itching of his severed leg. The itching distracts from the immense knowledge that one will forever after hobble through life.

Everyone experiences pain and most suffer from patterns that continue to make life miserable unless something or someone intervenes. The pain we feel comes from the cross-wise energies that keep curving back and cancelling the wise self and the good word that wait to be expressed from within us. Persistent pain is usually the indication that we have become trapped in a life too small for our true nature. That is the usual human fate and the common predicament where the little-self obscures the g

If itWere lighter touchThan petal of flower restingOn grass, oh still too heavy it were,Too heavy!

A small hole in his shirt revealed a gooey red blob right in the meaty part above his armpit, blood pouring from the wound. It hurt. It hurt bad. If he’d thought his headache downstairs had been tough, this was like three or four of those, all smashed into a coil of pain right there in his shoulder. And spreading through the rest of his body.Newt was at his side, looking down with worried eyes.“He shot me.” It just came out, a new number one on the list of the dumbest things he’d ever said. The

... some wounds refuse the remedy of time.

A torn jacket is soon mended, but hard words bruise the heart of a child.

A timid mind is apt to mistake every scratch for a mortal wound.

The wound made by hurting with fire will heal but the wound created by harsh words uttered using out tongue leaves an indelible scar.

Some pain has no relief,it can only be sealed You can grasp the wound to feel the scar unhealed.

I hid my wound under my clothes. Nobody could see it, including myself, and I completely forgot about it. Then I met someone who, filled with love, held me tight in that point. The pain was devastating, and I hated him, o how much I hated him, the cause of all my suffering. Then I met someone, beautifully dressed, and I loved him so much, holding him tight with all my passion. And he suffered badly, and he hated me, o how much he hated me, the cause of all his pain. So the story went on till I m

I hurt myself deeply, though at the time I had no idea how deeply. I should have learned many things from that experience, but when I look back on it, all I gained was one single, undeniable fact. That ultimately I am a person who can do evil. I never consciously tried to hurt anyone, yet good intentions notwithstanding, when necessity demanded, I could become completely self-centred, even cruel. I was the kind of person who could, using some plausible excuse, inflict on a person I cared for a w

What she did not know, and would never have believed, was that though her soul seemed to have been grown over with an impenetrable layer of mould, some delicate blades of grass, young and tender, were already pushing their way upwards, destined to take root and send out living shoots so effectively that her all-consuming grief would soon be lost and forgotten. The wound was healing from inside.

The body protects itself, and the same happens in the mind. It occurs sluggishly and imperfectly, a bad job done by indifferent craftsmen, but within minutes an accretion of defence mechanisms starts to form around the trauma, blunting its edges, eventually sealing it away inside scar tissue. Like a sliver of glass buried deep in a cut, the event will never go away, and often a movement will cause it to nudge a nerve ending and burn like fire for a while. However much it hurts when that happens,

Pain will come with time, but time will heal the pain.

Scar tissue — it’s a new layer of tender skin, lightly covering the wound. Still a vulnerable spot, the slightest little knock might tear the skin so it bleeds and the remembered ache from the old wound intensifies the pain from the latest blow.

Darkness moves like a pack of wild dogs.The wind moves like a wounded animal.The ground must be full of teeth by now.

It’s only a scratch, don’t cut my arm off!

Have you ever sat on a window seat, in the train of your memories while it's raining heavily? Rain has this ridiculous power of waking up all the angels and demons inside us at once, doesn't it? All of a sudden there is a war inside us, between both the sides. We can do nothing but clench our fists and watch our train derail and take a path we have never come across before. All we know at that point of time is that we are going to crash somewhere. Either our demons win or the angels, we are goin

The truth can be very sharp. But it makes a cleaner wound than lies. It will not fester

I have noticed that doctors who fail in the practice of medicine have a tendency to seek one another's company and aid in consultation.

In the last photograph of her, the bullet wound looked like a cheerful summer rose arranged just above her left ear. A few petals had fallen on her kaffan, the white shroud she was wrapped in before she was laid to rest.

Not without a wound in the spirit shall I leave this city.

When men feel the wound that cannot heal, they either bury themselves in woman's arms and ask her for healing, which she cannot provide, or they hide themselves in macho pride and enforced loneliness.

Men have healed me. Men have wounded me. One man healed me by wounding me.

We may be closest to hearing the call when we feel most alone or in trouble, for genius hides behind the wound and one of the greatest wounds in life is to not know who we are intended to be or what we are supposed to serve in life.

Wounds are inspirations to make us stronger than the sun which blazes the day to be longer

What deep wounds ever closed without a scar? The hearts bleed longest and but heal to wear That which disfigures it.

A certain Samaritan... bound up his wounds pouring in oil and wine.

I was wounded in the house of my friends.

A knife wound heals, but a tongue wound festers.

the sapphire depthof my own love...startlesand warmsand wounds my soul.

Love is a wound," the assassin said. " Neither life nor death.

Night is brushed aside like so much cobweb. The day is wound up and begins even before the last haunted dreams, the last of the fog, those spectral and evanescent residues, have faded away.

Turn your wound into wisdom, then help people to find true freedom.