Jealousy has always been my cross, the weakness and woundedness in me that has most often caused me to feel ugly and unlovable, like the Bad Seed.
I’d known cruelty in a school—cruelty that would keep these amateurs up all night. But this kind of scene—crowds batting around a person because they thought he was weak—happened to be my personal trigger.
I thought parenting was going to reveal my strengths, never realizing that God had ordained it to reveal my weaknesses.
A true gangster can smell out a person's strenghts and weaknesses in a matter of minutes, but what they can sense most of all, what their bodies are most attuned to, is the scent of fear.
Lift up the weak; inspire the ignorant... Rescue the failures; encourage the deprived! Live to give... Don't only hustle for survival. Go, and settle for revival!
The forest did not tolerate frailty of body or mind. Show your weakness, and it would consume you without hesitation.
They were conquerors, and for that you want only brute force--nothing to boast of, when you have it, since your strength is just an accident arising from the weakness of others.
A brick could be used to instill courage in the cowardly. But training must begin at birth, and the weak identified while they are still hiding in the womb.
A brick could be used to suppress certain groups of people, particularly those individuals who are too weak to stand up and say Hey, somebody get this brick off of me—it’s crushing me!
I used to think you were weak and just didn't fight back ... but now, honestly, I think you're actually pretty tough. It takes a hell of a lot of strength to not complain and lash out.
Maybe I lacked coping skills. Maybe I was weak. I cared for people for no better reason than they seemed to care for me, acknowledge me. It didn’t seem so dangerous at the time.
She looked at the boy. He knew her weakness for storytelling. And it was, after all, only a story. Still, she wished he had chosen a happier one.
Rafe pulled Cassandra into his arms. "At first, I wanted my arm back to feel whole again and to not appear weak before my enemies. Now I only want it to hold you.
When I wrote 'The Pregnant Widow' three or four years ago, I tried to reread my first novel, 'The Rachel Papers,' because their young heroes are the same age. I couldn't finish it. It seemed to me so technically slapdash and weak.
Technique! The very word is like a shriek of outraged Art. It is the idiot name given to effort by those who are too weak, too weary, or too dull to play the game. The mighty have no theory of technique.
I accept my body and its defects. I accept my character and its weaknesses. I love myself as a perfect part of a perfect Whole.
If you don't kill all of us all at once, those who remain will not be the weak. It's the strong who remain, the bent but unbroken, like the iron rods that used to give this concrete its strength.
Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked this easily — weak people, in other words...
of being strong and brave. The strong can not be brave. Only the weak can be brave; and yet again, in practice, only those who can be brave can be trusted, in time of doubt, to be strong.
All he'd learned was that love was a jewel with too many facets to count. Strength and weakness running side by side through it. And that no one could give or take it with any less than an open hand.
He gave Dancer one last pat. 'You're luckier than you know, pal. Living without a set of balls makes life a lot less complicated.
