A Quote by Tom Spanbauer

I was wounded by a blow of love. — © Tom Spanbauer
I was wounded by a blow of love.

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Women love the last blow as well as the last word, and when they fight for love they are pitiless as a wounded buffalo.
From suffering I have learned this: that whoever is sore wounded by love will never be made whole unless she embraces the very same love which wounded her.
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.
A wounded healer, I think, is a lot more powerful than a healer that has not been wounded. In 'Weaker Girl,' I was coming from a wounded healer's perspective.
I feel like I delivered a blow, an unfortunate blow to a profession that not only did I personally love doing but that I value for society.
I met a young man who was wounded in love, I met another man who was wounded in hatred.
For girls and women, talk is the glue that holds a relationship together - and the explosive that can blow it apart. That's why you can think you're having a perfectly amiable chat, then suddenly find yourself wounded by the shrapnel from an exploded conversation.
But as for me: I must ask the wounded man where he is hurt, because I cannot become the wounded man. The only wounded man I can be is me.
Gonna be a twister to blow everything down That ain't got the faith to stand its ground Blow away the dreams that tear you apart Blow away the dreams that break your heart Blow away the lies that leave you nothing but lost and brokenhearted.
I think when you love a child, it's a different kind of love. You think, 'I love more every day. I love more every day, more every day, I couldn't possibly love any more, I'm going to blow up.' And then you blow up. Your chest actually starts to hurt. You love so much, you think I can't love any more.
I think what's happening in the world - there's nothing more dangerous than a wounded beast, and the patriarchy is wounded.
You cannot learn a lesson of profound forgiveness unless you understand what it is to be wounded and forgive that which has wounded you.
If your body is damaged, wounded, it can be fixed, but if inside, mentally, you are wounded you cannot fix it, it's hard.
Love is not love that wounded bleeds And bleeding sullies slow. Come death within my hands and I Unto my love will go.
You think, I love more everyday. I love more everyday, more everyday, I couldn't possibly love any more, I'm going to blow up. And then you blow up. Your chest actually starts to hurt. You love so much you think I can't love any more. And then you love so much more than you ever dreamed possible.
When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains, and the women come out to cut up what remains, jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains and go to your gawd like a soldier.
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