Are you hurt? Are you injured?" / "No, just a bruise or two. I'm fine, really. You don't have to worry about me." / "Stephanie, you jumped off a building." / "Yes, but the branches broke my fall. Every one of them." / "And how were the branches?" / "A lot unlike pillows.
I refuse to let past bruises cover the light. It ain't all good, but it's all good enough so I know I'm alright
Words can bruise and break hearts, and minds as well. There are no black and blue marks, no broken bones to put in plaster casts, and therefore no prison bars for the offender.
Life has good and bad times. And to get through them you have to battle. Life is not all smooth. I've had my bumps and bruises, like anybody, but I've always tried to look at life like a glass that's half full.
I believe that people need to get their worth and value from knowing that God loves them. I believe that all healing in our inner man and even, we know Christ also heals people's physical diseases, but the Bible says he heals our wounds and bruises. Don't worry about what's wrong with you right now, God accepts you just the way you are and he will help you be what he wants you to be.
When I am assailed with heavy tribulations, I rush out among my pigs rather than remain alone by myself. The human heart is like a millstone in a mill: when you put wheat under it, it turns and grinds and bruises the wheat to flour; if you put no wheat, it still grinds on, but then 'tis itself it grinds and wears away. So the human heart, unless it be occupied with some employment, leaves space for the devil, who wriggles himself in and brings with him a whole host of evil thoughts, temptations, and tribulations, which grind out the heart.
The hardest thing to accept as a parent is that you cannot apply the bandage before the bruise.
The bruise on the heart which at first feels incredibly tender to the slightest touch eventually turns all the shades of the rainbow and stops aching. We forget about it. We even forget we have hearts until the next time. And then we wonder how we ever could have forgotten. We think this one is better, because, in fact, we cannot fully remember the time before.
What happened to your face?" Harriet asked. "It was a misunderstanding," Daniel said smoothly, wondering how long it might take for his bruises to heal. He did not think he was particularly vain, but the questions were growing tiresome. "A misunderstanding?" Elizabeth echoed. "With an anvil?" "Oh, stop," Harriet admonished her. "I think he looks very dashing." "As if he dashed into an anvil." "Pay no attention," Harriet said to him. "She lacks imagination.
My new year's resolution: Never be afraid to be kicked in the teeth. Let the blood and the bruises define your legacy.
If the Universe came to an end every time there was some uncertainty about what had happened in it, it would never have got beyond the first picosecond. And many of course don't. It's like a human body, you see. A few cuts and bruises here and there don't hurt it. Not even major surgery if it's done properly. Paradoxes are just the scar tissue. Time and space heal themselves up around them and people simply remember a version of events which makes as much sense as they require it to make.
Do not despair, dear heart, but come to the Lord with all your jagged wounds, black bruises, and running sores. He alone can heal, and He delights to do it. It is our Lord's office to bind up the brokenhearted, and He is gloriously at home at it.
The battles, the fights, the bruises, the bites. That's the way true love grows.
Artists hold out the mirror to the bruises on the face of the world.
Writing well involves walking the path of most resistance. Sitting still, being patient, allowing the lunatic dream to take shape on the page, then the shaping, the pencil on the page, breathing, slowing down, being willing–no, more than willing, being wide open–to press the bruise until it blossoms.
Once again, God to all glory, because I didnt feel one thing. I didnt hurt it one time. I actually argued with my equipment staff to take it off half way through the game, because I thought I didnt need it. I was trying to tell them it was stopping me from extending, but you know what, Ive always trusted them with their advice. It was kind of important to keep it on, and for me to come out and not have a bruise, not tweak it, not do anything like that, is just really awesome.
When my kids were in preschool, I was part of a carpooling group. One mother sometimes showed up with bruises on her body. She always had an excuse. Then one morning, she didn't show up. Later, I learned she'd fled a violent marriage. I've always thought, If only I'd known, maybe I could have helped.
A friend of mine was married to an assistant church pastor who regularly beat her up. He was smart ?- he'd do it in a way that the bruises didn't show. For the longest time, she dealt with it. Who would believe the minister was a wife beater?! Meanwhile, my friend ? - An attorney! ? - Suffered in silence.
Such is the grace and power of baptism; not an overwhelming of the world as of old, but a purification of the sins of each individual, and a complete cleansing from all the bruises and stains of sin. And since we are double-made, I mean of body and soul, and the one part is visible, the other invisible, so the cleansing also is twofold, by water and the Spirit; the one received visibly in the body, the other concurring with it invisibly and apart from the body; the one typical, the other real and cleansing the depths.
I stayed under the moon too long.I am silvered with lust.Dreams flick like minnows through my eyes.My voice is trees tossing in the wind.I loose myself like a flock of blackbirdsstorming into your face.My lightest touch leaves blue prints,bruises on your mind.Desire sandpapers your skinso thin I read the veins and arteriesmaps of routes I will traveltill I lodge in your spine.The night is our fur.We curl inside it licking.
If a piece of worthless stone can bruise a cup of gold, its worth is not increased, nor that of the gold diminished.
I had the misfortune of getting what skateboarders call hippers. It's when you fall on your hip again and again and again, just the same spot. It turns into like a blue purple bruise and it's just torture because I had to keep on doing the same move, going around in the pool again.
When it's all over I won't miss the bruises he gave me to impress girls, or the occasional scar which will give me a story to tell my grandchildren, but I'll definitely miss the pranks and the laughing and all the making fun of each other. I'll miss the funky advice he gives me about everything - football, girls, video games, clothes. Most of all, I'll miss having an older brother.
And while some healing does happen, it isn't a healing of redemption or epiphany. It's more like the slow absorption of a bruise.
Bees work for man, and yet they never bruise Their Master's flower, but leave it having done, As fair as ever and as fit to use; So both the flower doth stay and honey run.
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