No matter how smart she appeared, she was fragile at her core.
When inward tenderness finds the secret hurt, pain itself will crack the rock and Ah! Let the soul emerge.
When you grow up", I said, "do you ever stop feeling little and weak?" "No," she says. "There's always a little frail and tiny thing inside, no matter how grown-up you are.
We are only as emotionally strong as our deepest/biggest secret!
The intricacy and the inherent beautiful fragility of the human soul is such that it is uniquely damaged and only God knows how to heal it, and it's going to take time.
My mother is always the most vulnerable person in any room, and so I definitely have that part of her inside me.
Every man is actually weak, and apparently strong. To himself, he seems weak; to others, formidable.
No woman so naked as one you can see to be naked underneath her clothes.
Because there is something helpless and weak and innocent - something like an infant - deep inside us all that really suffers in ways we would never permit an insect to suffer.
If I can forgive the attachment in myself and open to the vulnerability that's underneath it, then rather than fixating on another person to satisfy my need, I'm actually going right to where the needs come from and able to bring a real healing.
We need a home in the psychological sense as much as we need one in the physical: to compensate for a vulnerability. We need a refuge to shore up our states of mind, because so much of the world is opposed to our allegiances. We need our rooms to align us to desirable versions of ourselves and to keep alive the important, evanescent sides of us.
Simply being myself makes me feel vulnerable.
That a little child will lead us back to the child we will always be, vulnerable and wanting and hurting for love and for beauty.
I simply think God is greater than our weakness. In fact, I think it is our weakness that reveals how great God is.
Praying is no easy matter. It demands a relationship in which you allow someone other than yourself to enter into the very center of your person, to see there what you would rather leave in darkness, and to touch there what you would rather leave untouched.
He clings to his solitude, to his affected indifference and his grown-up ways, but it's just an act, so as never, never to show his real feelings.
