A Quote by Jean Carroll
[On her husband:] The other day he woke up with a headache. I felt sorry for him. I would like to help him but I can't. I told him so many times. When he jumps out of bed - it should be feet first.
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You wouldn't let him do it, would you, Jamie?" Jamie's expression was very serene. She stared at Andrew when she spoke to her husband. "With your permission, I would like to answer him." "You have it," Alec replied. "Andrew," she called out in a voice as cold and clear as a frigid winter morning, "my husband does whatever he wishes to do. I am sometimes allowed to help, though. If he decides to cut off your feet, I will, of course, offer him my assistance.
She sometimes thought she was going crazy. Her first thought when she woke up was always how to get him out of her thoughts. And she would keep watch, hoping to see him next door, while plotting ways to never have to see him again.
She rested her head against his and felt, for the first time, what she would often feel with him: a self-affection. He made her like herself. With him, she was at ease; her skin felt as though it was her right size.. It seemed so natural, to talk to him about odd things. She had never done that before. The trust, so sudden and yet so complete, and the intimacy, frightened her.. But now she could think only of all the things she yet wanted to tell him, wanted to do with him.
I wish I would have known Kurt Cobain. I would have been the first guy there to get him help, doing anything I could have. I just felt like the people around him kind of let him down.
When it was over my daughter said, 'Oh, I felt so sorry for him - he didn't want to hurt you, he liked you.' That was Victoria. When you visualize him up there on top of the Empire State Building, you do feel sorry for him.
His desperation and misery swept her up like a storm capturing the sea. She turned her mind to even these feelings, because they were his, like his terrified rage in the lift when they had first met, being wrapped in his arms in the cold well, being dazzled by his wonder at the woods and her home and her. Like being a child, awareness of him the morning chorus that woke her and the lullaby that sent her to sleep, his thoughts always her first and last song.I love you, Kami told him, and cut.
She was in a terrible marriage and she couldn't talk to anyone. He used to hit her, and in the beginning she told him that if it ever happened again, she would leave him. He swore that it wouldn't and she believed him. But it only got worse after that, like when his dinner was cold, or when she mentioned that she'd visited with one of the neighbors who was walking by with his dog. She just chatted with him, but that night, her husband threw her into a mirror.
I was hitting him with what I thought was my full strength, I hit him in the head about four times and every time I hit him, I was like, 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry'. And he's like, 'It's fine, it didn't even hurt'. Yeah, that was kind of an ego deflater!
On Bergessio, in 2013, I made a reckless tackle and I was so sorry. I told him I was sorry a thousand times but I couldn't give him back the piece that I broke.
She glared at him, feeling the old frustration. Sometimes in his presence she felt the deepest connection to him, and other times she felt completely alone-as though any bond to him was her own bitter imagination.
There are many times where a woman would gladly drop her husband if she did not feel morally certain that some other woman would come right along and pick him up.
It was a tough situation. A fight that nobody expected to end so abruptly for him because he was really a great fighter. I felt sorry for him and I knew it could happen to anybody. And it could happen to any of us at any time. So when I was in a position to help him, I did what I could to help him.
When I first had a child, I really had a hard time trying to figure out how it was all going to fit together. Because I felt like, when I was with him, I wanted to be writing and I should be writing. And when I was writing, I felt like I should be with him, and wanted to be with him. So I was unhappy a lot.
Forgive a wife-slammer if you can. But you don't have to live with him. Forgive a husband who is abusing your children if you can. But only after you kick him out of the house. And if you can't get him out, get help. It's available. In the meantime, don't let him near the kids, and don't let anyone tell you that if you forgive him it means you have to stay with him. [There's an important difference between forgiving a person and tolerating their bad behavior.]
I put everything in God's hands, asking him to give me strength and understanding. I asked him to help me to be strong for my family and that he would continue to take care of us. One day, shortly after that, I woke up really inspired.
And she loved a man who was made out of nothing. A few hours without him and right away she’d be missing him with her whole body, sitting in her office surrounded by polyethylene and concrete and thinking of him. And every time she’d boil water for coffee in her ground-floor office, she’d let the steam cover her face, imagining it was him stroking her cheeks, her eyelids and she’d wait for the day to be over, so she could go to her apartment building, climb the flight of stairs, turn the key in the door, and find him waiting for her, naked and still between the sheets of her empty bed.
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