Wound Quotes
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It turned out that time doesn't heal the wound , but in its so merciful way, blunts the edges ever so slightly.
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Where the wound had been given, there must the cure be found, if any where.
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She was too intent upon her work, and too earnest in what she said, and too composed and quiet altogether, to be on the watch for any look he might direct towards her in reply; so the shaft of his ungrateful glance fell harmless, and did not wound her.
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Hope is what happens when a wound starts to heal; Whether skin-deep or soul-deep, you begin to feel real.
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I think you learn to live with the pain of miscarrying. The open wound heals and becomes a scar. Not as raw, but always there. A part of you- your heart.
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A timid mind is apt to mistake every scratch for a mortal wound.
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It harms a man more to wound his heart than to hurt his body.
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How sweet, the presence of Jesus to the longing, harassed soul! It is instant peace, and balm to every wound.
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The face of the night will be an old wound that reopens each evening, impassive and living. The distant silence will ache like a soul, mute, in the dark. We'll speak to the night as it's whispering softly.
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Wound me . . . I can only feed on my humiliated blood.
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You can't just wound the bear and run. He'll come after you.
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I thought of what my father had told me one summer day. I’d fallen down, and my knee was all scraped up and bleeding. We sat on the back porch, and he cleaned my wound and put a Band-Aid on it. The sky had cleared after a summer storm. I’d been crying, and he tried to get me to smile. “Your eyes are the color of sky. Did you know that?” I don’t know why I remembered this. Maybe it was because I knew he was telling me he loved me.
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Art is a wound turned into light.
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Because the truth is - and we know it - we were born to die without regrets. Regret is the only wound from which the soul never recovers.
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The wound is the place where the Light enters you.
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For every wound, the ointment of time.
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God who gives the wound gives the salve.
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Whether we wound or are wounded, the blood that flows is red.
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Within every word there is the unhealable wound of language.
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Then she took my hand and touched it to the wound beside her eye. I caressed the half-inch scar. As I did so, the waves of her consciousness pulsed through my fingertips and into me - a delicate resonance of longing. Probably someone should take this girl in his arms and hold her tight, I thought. Probably someone other than me. Someone qualified to give her something. "Goodbye, Mr. Wind-Up Bird. See you again sometime.
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Reproach is infinite, and knows no end So voluble a weapon is the tongue; Wounded, we wound; and neither side can fail For every man has equal strength to rail.
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I am going a long way With these thou seëst-if indeed I go (For all my mind is clouded with a doubt)- To the island-valley of Avilion, Where falls not hail or rain or any snow, Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard lawns And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea, Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.
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Time, time will heal the wound.
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On speaking of family secrets. I don't know how you heal a wound and not let it get some air.
