A Quote by Ovid

The wounded limb shrinks from the slightest touch; and a slight shadow alarms the nervous. [Lat., Membra reformidant mollem quoque saucia tactum: Vanaque sollicitis incutit umbra metum.]
We are dust and shadow. [Lat., Pulvis et umbra sumus.]
The dove, O hawk, that has once been wounded by thy talons, is frightened by the least movement of a wing. [Lat., Terretur minimo pennae stridore columba Unguibus, accipiter, saucia facta tuis.]
His heart was like a sensitive plant, that opens for a moment in the sunshine, but curls up and shrinks into itself at the slightest touch of the finger, or the lightest breath of wind.
The body loaded by the excess of yesterday, depresses the mind also, and fixes to the ground this particle of divine breath. [Lat., Quin corpus onustum Hesternis vitiis, animum quoque praegravat una Atque affigit humo divinae particulam aurae.]
I typically set at least three alarms. I have two alarms set on my iPhone, I still use a Blackberry for work, so I set my alarm on that, and then if I'm staying in a hotel, I request a wake-up call. I've never overslept - knock on wood. But I have had an instance where one of my four alarms has failed, so that's why I stand by the multiple alarms.
Nervous alarms should always be communicated, that they may be dissipated.
Who feels injustice, who shrinks before a slight, who has a sense of wrong so acute, and so glowing a gratitude for kindness, as a generous boy?
In nearly everything I write, I am like a ventriloquist, throwing my voice into my characters, animating them by the slightest twitch as I register my anxieties and alarms. This is true even in my comedies.
A pleasing countenance is no slight disadvantage. [Lat., Auxilium non leve vultus habet.]
Fame is the shade of immortality, And in itself a shadow. Soon as caught, Contemn'd; it shrinks to nothing in the grasp.
I can't experience my brain because I'm inside of it. If you're imaging your brain, you can also find scary things. As one ages, your brain shrinks. And how much it shrinks, and where it shrinks, relates to conditions like Alzheimer's and dementia.
Do not pursue with the terrible scourge him who deserves a slight whip. [Lat., Ne scutica dignum horribili sectere flagello.]
Deference often shrinks and withers as much upon the approach of intimacy as the sensitive plant does upon the touch of one's finger.
People always say it's harder to heal a wounded heart than a wounded body. Bullshit. It's exactly the opposite—a wounded body takes much longer to heal. A wounded heart is nothing but ashes of memories. But the body is everything. The body is blood and veins and cells and nerves. A wounded body is when, after leaving a man you’ve lived with for three years, you curl up on your side of the bed as if there’s still somebody beside you. That is a wounded body: a body that feels connected to someone who is no longer there.
I thought the most beautiful thing in the world must be shadow, the million moving shapes and cul-de-sacs of shadow. There was shadow in bureau drawers and closets and suitcases, and shadow under houses and trees and stones, and shadow at the back of people's eyes and smiles, and shadow, miles and miles and miles of it, on the night side of the earth.
We have this wild life experience that is full of fantastic minutiae and banal, huge events at the same time. Yet, all of it shrinks in the shadow of death. It's hard to argue with death as a game-changer.
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