The key problem I encounter working with wounded, depressed, and unhappy people is a lack of connection…starting from a disconnection from themselves and then with others. This is why love often becomes so distorted and destructive. When people exp...
I've never owned an actual trail-running shoe myself, but maybe I should. My favorite paths are fraught with peril, much of it skulking at shoelace level. A rock, a root, an errant pine cone. Wham, and you're down, choking in dust and picking pebbles...
[Kirk has been informed of an incoming transmission from Dr. Carol Marcus] Dr. McCoy: It never rains but it pours. Kirk: As a doctor, you of all people should be aware of the dangers of reopening old wounds.
Gilbert Huph: [in Huph's office] You know, Bob... a company... Bob: Is like an enormous clock. Gilbert Huph: ...Is like an enormous cl... Yes, precisely. It only works if all the little cogs mesh together. A clock must be clean, well lubricated, and ...
[after the final battle, Taylor picks up an AK-47 and encounters a wounded Barnes] Sgt. Barnes: Get me a medic. Go on, boy! [Taylor refuses to budge, and aims the AK-47 at Barnes] Sgt. Barnes: Do it. [Taylor shoots Barnes three times, killing him]
When my TV show, 'Sports Jobs with Junior Seau,' assigned me to be a 'Sports Illustrated' reporter for a weekend, I didn't realize I'd have to squeeze it in around another sports job. I had planned to retire from the NFL to enjoy the cushy lifestyle ...
Kind words are the music of the world. They have a power which seems to be beyond natural causes, as if they were some angel's song, which had lost its way and come on Earth, and sang on undyingly, smiting the hearts of men with sweetest wounds, and ...
Byron McElroy: [while observing various drawings on Potter's wall that show the anatomies of various animals, while Potter treats McElroy to a bullet wound] What the fuck kind of doctor are you anyway? Doc Potter: It's nice to have a conversation wit...
[last lines] Japanese newscaster: Susan Jones, who was wounded in a terrorist attack in Morocco, was discharged from a Casablanca hospital this morning, local time. The American people finally have a happy ending, after five days of frantic phone cal...
The dog leash was still tied tight around the oak tree in the back, stretched worn and limp across the green grass as if trying to escape to freedom; and he buried his wife without a tombstone. Where before, she sat most times in his home, licking he...
Time didn’t heal my heal wounds but it lent me perspective. My vision was no longer clouded and I saw what I’d become. I’d let inspiration become obsession. Tunnel vision had hindered all progress. I was so fixated on you, I got stuck.
Post office closures in the Dakotas and Minnesota will impact many communities, but the White Earth reservation villages, and other tribal towns of Squaw Lake, Ponemah, Brookston in Minnesota, and Manderson, Wounded Knee and Wakpala (South Dakota) as...
Be grateful for every scar life inflicts on you. Where we’re unhurt is where we are false. Where we are wounded and healed is where our real self gets to show itself. That’s where you get to show who you really are
Oh, I'm just checking out books." I glanced at the one I was holding. Somehow, of all the places I could duck into, I'd wound up in the erotica section. In my hands was a book about bondage. Somebody kill me now.
I want you to learn that if you don't keep picking at old wounds, over time they will eventually heal. Oh sure, sometimes they will leave a nasty, jagged scar, but at least it won't hurt like it did anymore, and if you don't look at it, sometimes you...
Revenge writing is a female genre. Men who have been left by women or made cuckolds by rivals either lick their wounds in humiliated silence or start the Trojan Wars. Having no other power or public voice, the betrayed woman reaches for her pen.
It was suicide, wasn't it?" "In an involuntary sort of way," said Vorob'yev. "These Cetagandan political suicides can get awfully messy, when the principal won't cooperate." "Thirty-two stab wounds in the back, worst case of suicide they ever saw?" m...
The truth had lacerated him to the bone, had punctured his heart, and had ripped through his soul. The truth had slain him and tended to his wounds. The truth had hated him and loved him. The truth had opened his eyes to his own faults.
Scars exist to show that I existed. I myself don’t have any scars, but every single one of my friends has a healed up knife wound deep in their back.
I’d once heard a spiritual “riddle” that went like this: “What’s the only thing in heaven that’s the same as it was on earth?” The answer: the wounds in Jesus’ hands and feet.
I felt a splinter of guilt wedge into my heart. Charlotte had hurt me; in return, I'd hurt Rob. Maybe that's what we do to the people we love: take shots in the dark and realize too late we've wounded the people we're trying to protect.
