191 Vulnerability Quotes

A man who publishes his letters becomes a nudist - nothing shields him from the world's gaze except his bare skin. A writer, writing away, can always fix things up to make himself more presentable, but a man who has written a letter is stuck with it for all time.

My problem was that I felt ashamed of feeling sad or angry. Now, I don't hide my vulnerability in my lyrics. There's no way I was going to get raped and not get something out of it. I learned about power and hope and forgiveness. I like who I am now and I wouldn't be who I am if that hadn't happened.

He submits to be seen through a microscope, who suffers himself to be caught in a fit of passion.

I was demanding of myself a deeper and greater honesty, more and more revelation in my work in order to give it back to the people where it goes into their lives and nourishes them and changes their direction and makes light bulbs go off in their head and makes them feel. And it isn't vague, it strikes against the very nerves of their life and in order to do that you have to strike against the very nerves of your own.

It is not good to see people who have been pretending strength all their lives lose it even for a minute.

I'm just like anyone. I cut and I bleed. And I embarass easily.

When we ignore the body, we are more easily victimized by it.

Whether you call my heart affectionate, or you call it womanish: I confess, that to my misfortune, it is soft.

I was terrorized by the emotional requirements of being an actor. Acting is like letting your pants down; you're exposed.

Love is something difficult and it is more difficult than other things because in other conflicts nature herself enjoins men to collect themselves, to take themselves firmly in the hand with all their strength, while in the heightening of love the impulse is to give oneself wholly away.

If we admit our depression openly and freely, those around us get from it an experience of freedom rather than the depression itself.

Sometimes a neighbor whom we have disliked a lifetime for his arrogance and conceit lets fall a single commonplace remark that shows us another side, another man, really; a man uncertain, and puzzled, and in the dark like ourselves.

Let's not beat around the bush; I love life - that's my real weakness. I love it so much that I am incapable of imagining what is not life.

'What is love?' 'The total absence of fear,' said the Master. 'What is it we fear?' 'Love,' said the Master.

Writers must fortify themselves with pride and egotism as best they can. The process is analogous to using sandbags and loose timbers to protect a house against flood. Writers are vulnerable creatures like anyone else. For what do they have in reality? Not sandbags, not timbers. Just a flimsy reputation and a name.

Love comes when manipulation stops; when you think more about the other person than about his or her reactions to you. When you dare to reveal yourself fully. When you dare to be vulnerable.

Accept that all of us can be hurt, that all of us can - and surely will at times - fail. Other vulnerabilities, like being embarrassed or risking love, can be terrifying, too. I think we should follow a simple rule: if we can take the worst, take the risk.

In this love you are like a knife, with which I explore myself.

You saw his weakness, and he will never forgive you.

'You know, we all have our inner demons. I, for one -- I can`t speak for you, but I`m on the verge of moral collapse at any time. It can happen by the end of the show.'

My manners, abominable at times, can be sweet. As I grew older I became a drunk. Why? Because I like ecstasy of the mind. I'm a wretch. But I love, love.

If one really wishes to know how justice is administered in a country, one does not question the policemen, the lawyers, the judges, or the protected members of the middle class. One goes to the unprotected - those, precisely, who need the law's protection most! - and listens to their testimony.

What is our innocence, what is our guilt? All are naked, none is safe.

I always felt insecure and in the way - but most of all I felt scared. I guess I wanted love more than anything else in the world.

The Indian who was laid under a curse, that the wind should not blow on him, nor water flow to him, nor fire burn him, is a type of us all. The dearest events are summer-rain, and we the Para coats that shed every drop. Nothing is left us now but death. We look to that with a grim satisfaction, saying, there at least is reality that will not dodge us.

To love means to open ourselves to the negative as well as the positive - to grief, sorrow, and disappointment as well as to joy, fulfillment, and an intensity of consciousness we did not know was possible before.

Blessed are the cracked, for they let in the light.

'Love you will find only where you may show yourself weak without provoking strength.'

'I was the only boy in our school what had asthma,' said the fat boy with a touch of pride. 'And I've been wearing specs since I was three.'

'To be loved is a strength. To love is a weakness.'

These things bring you to reality as to how fragile you are; at the same moment you are doing something that nobody else is able to do. The same moment that you are seen as the best, the fastest and somebody that cannot be touched, you are enormously fragile. Because in a split second, it's gone. These two extremes are feelings that you don't get every day. These are all things which contribute to -how can I say?- knowing yourself deeper and deeper. These are the things that keep me going.

Nothing is surer than that the people will be weak. (330)

I started hearing from families who had missing members, many of them young kids on our campus, and they all would describe the same sorts of things. A sudden change of personality, a new way of talking...and then they would disappear. And bingo, it was the same sort of thing as with the Korean War prisoners, the same sort of thought-reform and social controls. You find it again and again, any time people feel vulnerable. There are always sharpies around who want to hornswoggle people.

The public takes care of their fear by thinking only crazies and stupid people wind up in cults. I've interviewed over 4000 ex-cult members. There's no one type of person who is vulnerable.

If I may, and if I might Lay me down, weeping.

I only met Kurt once...I was touched by him. He seemed a little shell shocked as though he felt yet another show might drop at any time.

It (insecurity) is a feeling that is deeply felt and is shared by most members of my community, irrespective of religion, status, education, background or place of origin.

...it was nearly a crime that they came launch to the attack, mainly because they were incapable of counterattack... and they fell, one after the other, easy prey under the Germanic blows of hunting.

Desire was only another weapon, like hunger, loneliness, and cold arrayed against him by his tormentors

I'd smile so much my face would crack in two Then you could fix it with your kissing glue I'd like that Yes, I'd like that

Janis knew more than I did about 'how it was', but she lacked enough armor for the inevitable hassles. She was open and spontaneous enough to get her heart trampled with a regularity that took me thirty years to experience or understand. On the various occasions when we were together, she seemed to be holding in something she thought I might not want to hear, like older people do when they hear kids they love saying with absolute youthful confidence, 'Oh, that'll never happen to me.' Sometimes you know you can't tell them how it is, they have to find out for themselves. Janis felt like an old soul, a wisecracking grandmother whom everybody loved to visit. When I was with her, I often felt like a part of her distant family, a young upstart relative who was still too full of her own sophistry to hear wisdom. Did we compliment each other? Yes, but not often enough. ~ On Janis Joplin

Janis knew more than I did about 'how it was', but she lacked enough armor for the inevitable hassles. She was open and spontaneous enough to get her heart trampled with a regularity that took me thirty years to experience or understand. On the various occasions when we were together, she seemed to be holding in something she thought I might not want to hear, like older people do when they hear kids they love saying with absolute youthful confidence, 'Oh, that'll never happen to me.' Sometimes you know you can't tell them how it is, they have to find out for themselves. Janis felt like an old soul, a wisecracking grandmother whom everybody loved to visit. When I was with her, I often felt like a part of her distant family, a young upstart relative who was still too full of her own sophistry to hear wisdom. Did we compliment each other? Yes, but not often enough. ~ Grace Slick

About two years ago a young lady came into my office, and I knew immediately something was wrong. Her eyes were kind of glazed, and her head was nodding, and I asked, 'What's the matter'' She replied, 'Oh, Dr. Buscaglia, in order to get enough courage to come to see you, I had to drink a whole bottle of Ripple! And I think I am going to be sick!' Imagining... having to drink a bottle of Ripple to summon up the courage to come to see me. All I do is put my hands out and say, 'Hi.' I cover their hands with mine and lead them into my office, and I can see a look of panic on their faces, 'What's he going to do to me?' I am not going to do anything to you! I just want you to know that I cry, too, and I feel, too, and I care, too, and I don't know everything, too, and therefore, we can start with a common frame of reference - human being to human being. If anybody tries to play the game of 'follow the guru' with me, they will be lost, for they will learn that I am just as confused as they are. The difference may be that I know it. A Buddhist teacher once said to me, 'Why do you keep moving? You are already there.' And all of a sudden it occurred to me - my goodness, I am!

trouble me disturb me with all your cares and you worries trouble me on the days when you feel spent

let me have a look inside these eyes while I'm learning please don't hide them just because of tears

o, I need the darkness the sweetness the sadness the weakness I need this

who'll save the poor little girl? oh, Henry... who'll tell the story of her? Henry Darger

I wish I had died before seeing him, he will surely undo me before he's through

Miro expected him to be wise. He had not expected him to be so intrusive, so dangerous. Yes, he was wise, all right, he kept seeing past pretense, kept saying or doing outrageous things that were, when you thought about it, exactly right. It was as if he was so familiar with the human mind that he could see, right on your face, the desires so deep, the truths so well-disguised that you didn't even know yourself that you had them in you

Don't hurt each other any more, children How could I hurt her? She'd have to love me before I could do that

That was the most terrible thing that a woman could to a decent man: look vulnerable and ask him for mercy. If he refused her he'd be denying all his instincts as a provider and protector

Embarrassing as it had been to break down like that in front of [her], he knew that it had been a good thing. A wall inside himself had been broken

He looked away to hide his face from her. By habit, really, his old habit of hiding his emotions. There was nothing she hadn't seen of his emotions by now. No weakness she didn't already know

He shuddered at his own fragility. He had thought he was a stronger man than that

So what's one little kiss, one tiny little touch? Aah, he's wanting it so much I swear that this is royal blood, running through my skin Oh, can you see the state I'm in Kiss it better, kiss it better

Don't f**k with me Nigga you're barely livin, don't you got sickle cell?/See me have a seizure on stage, you ain't feelin well, hell

I fall on my knees and beg for mercy, not knowin if I'm worthy/Livin life thinkin no man can hurt me

See they ask me if I shed a tear, I ain't lie/See you gotta get high or die, cause even thugs cry

'I'd like to say we have fixed these problems, but we haven't. We have very real vulnerabilities. We have not diminished in any way the fervor and ideology of our enemy. .... Today, probably 50 or more states have schools that are teaching jihad, preaching, recruiting, and training. We have absolutely no successful programs even begun to remediate against those efforts. .... Nobody paid attention. Presidents in four administrations put their arms around Saudi ambassadors, ignored the Wahhabi jihadism, and said these are our eternal friends.'

You're so exposed in acting--it's so dangerous, it's so sexy.

Defenceless, adj. Unable to attack.

To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket - safe, dark, motionless, airless - it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside of Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell.

And me I'm in the bathroom crying out my eyelids because it's hard to be a man when you're scared, just like a little kid.

In a coma, you don't dream, you just hope that someone sits with you.

You took off your clothes and left on the light, You stood there so brave, you used to be shy, Each feature improved, each movement refined, And eyes like a showroom.

Don't be so amazing or I'll miss you too much.

I used to be scared of pretty girls, until one confessed they're just as scared of me.

Rohm deceived himself when he thought when he thought that his closeness to Hitler would allow him to survive while other German homosexual men were being persecuted. Rohm was not murdered because he was homosexual, but the fact that he was so gave his enemies a means of turning Hitler against him and securing his destruction.

Justice is taking care of those who aren't able to take care of themselves. [1]

Innocence always calls mutely for protection when we would be so much wiser to guard ourselves against it: innocence is like a dumb leper who has lost his bell, wandering the world, meaning no harm.

The terrible fluidity of self-revelation.

Jack: I'm scared, I'm frightened.

Ah, how often I've cursed those foolish pages, That showed my youthful sufferings to everyone! If Werther had been my brother, and I'd killed him, His sad ghost could hardly have persecuted me more.

I am two fools, I know, For loving, and for saying so In whining poetry.

Full nakedness! All joys are due to thee, As souls unbodied, bodies unclothed must be, To taste whole joys.

I used to look at homeless peopleand try to imagine what they had once looked like. It's not easy. Beneath the grime and degradation is a face once adored by someone. It's a truth that tricks the eye; our glances slide away. But something happened to ruin that life, to strip it bare; and it was something small, something that but for the grace of God could take us, too.

Sugar is gone; silk has gone; iron is threatened; wool is threatened; cotton will go! How long are you going to stand it? At the present moment these industries...are like sheep in a field.

You are never so alone as when you are ill on stage. The most nightmarish feeling in the world is suddenly to feel like throwing up in front of four thousand people.

I've never looked through a keyhole without finding someone was looking back.

'We all self conscious I'm just the first to admit it'

'The one thing I fear for [Kanye] the most is if you keep talking about being the greatest, people eventually are going to want to watch you fail.' - John Mayer (From MTV.com)

Children show scars like medals. Lovers use them as secrets to reveal. A scar is what happens when the word is made flesh. It is easy to display a wound, the proud scars of combat. It is hard to show a pimple.

No one says naked like Leonard Cohen.

Among other evils which being unarmed brings you, it causes you to be despised.

And down the long and silent street, The dawn, with silver-sandalled feet, Crept like a frightened girl.

A poet can survive everything but a misprint.

'Jeeves,' I said, and I am free to admit that in my emotion I bleated like a lamb drawing itself to the attention of the parent sheep, 'what the dickens is all this?'

A young man with dark circles under his eyes was propping himself up against a penny-in-the-slot machine. An undertaker, passing at that moment, would have looked at this young man sharply, scenting business. So would a buzzard.

When stripped, I looked less like 'Il David' than a plucked chicken that died of myxomatosis.

The little blonde at the PBX cocked a shell-like ear and smiled a small fluffy smile. She looked playful and eager, but not quite sure of herself, like a new kitten in a house where they don't care much about kittens.

With so many mind-bytes to be downloaded, so many mental codons to be replicated, it is no wonder that child brains are gullible, open to almost any suggestion, vulnerable to subversion, easy prey to Moonies, Scientologists and nuns. Like immune-deficient patients, children are wide open to mental infections that adults might brush off without effort.

What is this talked-of mystery of birth but being mounted bareback on the earth?