They died hard, those savage men - like wounded wolves at bay. They were filthy, and they were lousy, and they stunk. And I loved them.
I will not eat oysters. I want my food dead - not sick, not wounded - dead.
The best people possess a feeling for beauty, the courage to take risks, the discipline to tell the truth, the capacity for sacrifice. Ironically, their virtues make them vulnerable; they are often wounded, sometimes destroyed.
You can't patch a wounded soul with a Band-Aid.
Turn your wounds into wisdom.
No person, possession, profession, or position ever fills the cup of a wounded, empty heart. It's an emptiness only God can fill.
A wound that goes unacknowledged and unwept is a wound that cannot heal.
A wounded deer leaps the highest.
Bury my heart at Wounded Knee.
Wakening from the dreaming forest there, the hazel-sprig sang under my tongue, its drifting fragrance climbed up through my conscious mind as if suddenly the roots I had left behind cried out to me, the land I had lost with my childhood - and I stopped, wounded by the wandering scent.
It is usually the imagination that is wounded first, rather than the heart; it being much more sensitive.
Leave it all in the Hands that were wounded for you
The wounded gladiator forswears all fighting, but soon forgetting his former wound resumes his arms.
Americans are the great Satan, the wounded snake.
As the eagle was killed by the arrow winged with his own feather, so the hand of the world is wounded by its own skill.
We are not meant to stay wounded. We are supposed to move through our tragedies and challenges and to help each other move through the many painful episodes of our lives. By remaining stuck in the power of our wounds, we block our own transformation. We overlook the greater gifts inherent in our wounds - the strength to overcome them and the lessons that we are meant to receive through them. Wounds are the means through which we enter the hearts of other people. They are meant to teach us to become compassionate and wise.
He jests at scars that never felt a wound.
I want my food dead. Not sick, not dying, dead.
I am tired and sick of war. Its glory is all moonshine. It is only those who have neither fired a shot nor heard the shrieks and groans of the wounded who cry aloud for blood, for vengeance, for desolation. War is hell.
The doctor is effective only when he himself is affected. Only the wounded physician heals.
Only the wounded physician heals.
When someone's wounded, the first order of business is to stop the bleeding. You can figure out later how best to help them heal.
I was assigned to a medical unit and was part of a group receiving men returning from theater headed to hospital care, many forever maimed with life-altering wounds. It made a strong impression because wounded men and body bags come back to home districts, not Washington, D.C., and accordingly, there is no more sacred vote than those surrounding war where life hangs in the balance.
Soldiers may be wounded in battle and sent to a hospital. A hospital isn't a shelf. It's a place of repair. And a soldier in the spiritual army is never off his battlefield. He is only removed to another part of the battlefield when a wound interrupts what he was meant to do, and sets him doing something else.
Books are many things: lullabies for the weary, ointment for the wounded, armour for the fearful and nests for those in need of a home.
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