A Quote by Maggie Stiefvater
sloughing my skin / escaping it's grip / stripped of my wit / it hurts to be me .
Related Quotes
By wit we search divine aspect above,
By wit we learn what secrets science yields,
By wit we speak, by wit the mind is rul'd,
By wit we govern all our actions;
Wit is the loadstar of each human thought,
Wit is the tool by which all things are wrought.
Jack, get a grip of yourself.' I have a grip of myself.' Jack took a grip of himself. It was a most intimate grip; not the kind of grip that you usually take of yourself in public.
My senses have been stripped, my hands can't feel to grip, my toes to numb to step, wait only for my boot heels to be wandering.
Nobody taught me my slider. I mean, if you look at my grip, I don't think anyone has the same grip as I do. It's a separate grip. I hold it kind of weird and everything. When I started throwing it, I just wanted to start throwing something different and came up with that. I turned it a little bit.
I want to die, stripped, by myself, of all fantasies. That's the goal. I want to feel what is real, at the end, and only what is real. Grip fiercely with my eyes all that is around me--the people of my intimate life, the objects in the room, without the evasions of fantasies.
Good writing and dark wit always excite me and they come together thrillingly in this book. It has a quiet grip on the strangeness of the interior and exterior worlds of love and politics. I delighted in the writing and the scope.
One day you fall for this boy. And he touches you with his fingers. And he burns holes in your skin with his mouth. And it hurts when you look at him. And it hurts when you don’t. And it feels like someone’s cut you open with a jagged piece of glass.
When you drive a car, either you manage it and feel it with the grip of the car, or, like me, you fix it on visual speed. If you do it through the grip, you lose it very quickly - because when the track changes, you can have scares. I do it visually, so if I am going too fast I fight to get the car back, but I do not do it by feeling the grip.
Meditation is nothing but coming to terms with your inner emptiness: recognizing it, not escaping; living through it, not escaping; being through it, not escaping. Then suddenly the emptiness becomes the fullness of life.
I have always been fascinated by the life cycle, the way skin metamorphoses over time. I am mesmerized by skin and that's why I've been attracted to the nude. I do think people show their soul when they are stripped down psychically. There is something wondrous that happens when we relate on that level - and I am interested in that depth.
Everything he had ever done that had been better left undone. Every lie he had told — told to himself, or told to others. Every little hurt, and all the great hurts. Each one was pulled out of him, detail by detail, inch by inch. The demon stripped away the cover of forgetfulness, stripped everything down to truth, and it hurt more than anything.
Life hurts at times. It hurts to have a body at times, hurts to be born, hurts to live, hurts to die, but it can be ecstasy beyond comprehension. You can know that ecstasy. It is inside of you.
When your outlet is taken away from you, when your catharsis is stripped from you and you don't understand why, and you're so disappointed, and you're so blindsided by it, it hurts.
Christmas begins what Easter celebrates. The child in the cradle became the king on the cross. And because he did, there are no marks on my record. Just grace. His offer has no fine print. He didn't tell me, "Clean up before you come in." He offered, "Come in, and I'll clean you up." It's not my grip on him that matters but his grip on me. And his grip is sure. So is his presence in my life.
It's like he has emotional amnesia... I think you have to accept that the person you knew isn't there at the moment. I was witness to how much he loved you. I have the photos. This isn't the person we knew. I don't recognize this person. He's shed his skin." Her heart is broken too. She has to say the thing that will give me back my life. She draws on every reserve. I see how much it hurts her and it hurts me too. I came from her joy and her pain, I lived in it and I live in it now.
Wit is artificial; humor is natural. Wit is accidental; humor is inevitable. Wit is born of conscious effort; humor, of the allotted ironies of fate. Wit can be expressed only in language; humor can be developed sufficiently in situation.
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