I woke up, a bag of bones. Literally. They had gathered up my bones and put them in a bag and thrown the bag into a river.
People say sticks and stones may break your bones, but names can never hurt you, but that's not true. Words can hurt. They hurt me. Things were said to me that I still haven't forgotten.
I don't want to hurt you, Mistress Weatherwax," said Mrs Gogol. "That's good," said Granny. "I don't want you to hurt me either.
Mencheres dropped his hands from my shoulders. “You know that’s what he wants. He’ll want to trade, you for her.” “Then I’ll do it,” I said. Bones’s grip on me turned to steel. “No, you won’t.
Be careful you don't cut yourself. The edges are sharp enough to shave with.' 'Girls don't shave', Arya said. 'Maybe they should. Have you ever seen the septa's legs?
I want a room decorated with bones!" Dan said. "Where'd they come from?" "Cemeteries," Amy said. "Back in the 1700s, the cemeteries were getting overcrowded, so they decided to dig up tons of old bodies–all their bones–and move them into the Catacombs. The thing is...look at the dates. See when they started moving bones into the Catacombs?" Dan squinted at the screen. He didn't see what she was talking about. "Is it my birthday?
My parents said sticks and stones will break your bones but names will never hurt you. But I always felt a sense of exhilaration after a fight; it was the names that really hurt me.
I hurt myself today to see if I could feel. I hurt myself, you said to try to make him feel. So I hurt myself again to see if he'd see me. I hurt myself again and no, he never could see me.
Like I said, I'm a professional; I don't want to hurt myself nor the team.
I'll tell you, my friends: it's all in the nerves. The nerves that tense and relax as you approach the edges of companionship and love. The razor-sharp edges of companionship and love.
I zipped myself all the way into the sleeping bag of myself, not because I was hurt, and not because I had broken something, but because they were cracking up.
The base paths belonged to me, the runner. The rules gave me the right. I always went into a bag full speed, feet first. I had sharp spikes on my shoes. If the baseman stood where he had no business to be and got hurt, that was his fault.
I've never stabbed, hurt, killed, stolen, anything, but I went to jail for a year. What is that? My pastor said to me the fact that I'm not living under a bridge as a crazy woman, talking to myself, is amazing.
For me, writing is an experience. It's an exercise in which I want to discover myself by taking my characters to the edges of human experience, to the edges of themselves and then, asking certain questions - about love, what does it mean to love? What's beauty? What is true beauty?
I like skateboarding. I'm here on this planet to skateboard; I feel this is what God wants me to do. I just live it. I get hurt all the time. I break bones. It's just all part of the process.
What people want is perfection," said the man. "In themselves." "But they need the steps to it to be pointed out," said the woman. "In a simple order," said the man. "With encouragement," said the woman. "And a positive attitude.