A Quote by Ginn Hale
Tell me." Edward had to raise his voice a little. "Do you live by the principle that what people don't know can't hurt them?" "No," Harper replied. "What people don't know can't hurt me.
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Why are you leaving me? He wrote, I do not know how to live. I do not know either but I am trying. I do not know how to try. There were some things I wanted to tell him. But I knew they would hurt him. So i buried them and let them hurt me
I-" said Nick, his voice halting. "I don't mind it as much when - when people touch me. Some people." Mae looked down, and Nick, who looked more relaxed when he'd been stabbed, slowly lifted his hand from his chest and laid it on the tumbled sheets between them, fingers half-curled into his palm. He was still regarding the ceiling with a fixed glare. "Because you trust them not to hurt you?" Mae asked tentatively. "No," Nick said, his voice harsh. "Because I'd let them hurt me.
I think I live in this mythical world where doing the parts I do is not going to hurt me, and telling people my age is not going to hurt me. And it actually does. It's a bit sick-making but, you know, I can't change who I am.
Will’s voice dropped. “Everyone makes mistakes, Jem.” “Yes,” said Jem. “You just make more of them than most people.” “I —” “You hurt everyone,” said Jem. “Everyone whose life you touch.” “Not you,” Will whispered. “I hurt everyone but you. I never meant to hurt you.” Jem put his hands up, pressing his palms against his eyes. “Will —” “You can’t never forgive me,” Will said in disbelief, hearing the panic tinging his own voice. “I’d be —” “Alone?” Jem lowered his hand, but he was smiling now, crookedly. “And whose fault is that?
I was afraid. Of getting hurt in other ways. To be truthful, I still am." His thumb stroked her cheek. "I would never hurt you." "I don't think you can promise me that." She squeezed his bruised fingers. "But it makes things a bit more equal, to know that I can hurt you, too." His gaze fell to her lips. He said simply, without any trace of irony, "You are killing me.
I get to keep you,” he said, staring at me with an intensity that made me shiver. “Keep me?” I asked, reaching up to kiss his chin and trail kisses down his perfect neck. “Not here. I can’t take much more, Pagan. I’m only so strong,” he said in a husky voice as he pulled me against his chest. “You’re mine now. While you walk the Earth you belong to me. Nothing can hurt you.” I heard a touch of humor in his voice. “It’s pretty impossible to hurt what Death protects.
Why do you tell me... so much?" Luthe considered her. "I tell you... some you need to know, and some you have earned the right to know, and some it won't hurt you to know--" He stopped.... "Some things I tell you only because I wish to tell them to you.
My old man taught me a lot of stuff in his death that I don't even know if he would have been able to teach me had he been alive. And that was to never do stuff that can jeopardize the people you love and hurt them.
I get people who come up to me and are like, 'You make me wanna live my dream.' I was them, so I'm like, 'Me, out of all people? No way.' Eddie Guerrero did that for me, so to have little girls and guys tell me I inspire them, I didn't know that came with the job, but it's so cool.
I don't go out there to hurt people, I don't even know how to attempt to hurt somebody. I play hard, bring the edge. I'm an instigator. That gets me going.
Most of my tattoos have a story. When people ask me, I tell them whatever they want hear. 'What's this tattoo? What does this mean? Does it hurt?' I tell them everything they want to know.
She grabbed his arm. "Let it be, son!" she cried. "That child ain't hurt!" "Not hurt! You look into her eyes and tell me she ain't hurt!
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 needed to let them know they couldn't hurt me. I've learned that the best way to stay safe is to make your enemies think you can't be hurt.
I love fighting. I don't know what it is in me, whether it's a sickness or a gene, but I just love standing in front of another fighter and going for it: they can hurt me, and I can hurt them.
I've hurt you terribly my love, and I'll hunt you again during the next fifty years. And you are going to hurt me, Ian-never I hope as much as you are hurting me now. But if that's the way it has to be, then I'll endure it, because the only alternative is to live without you, and that is no life at all. And the difference is that I know it, and you don't... not yet.
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