Quotes About Comfort

But the truth is, home's an illusion. We try to create this place that's supposed to make us feel happy or safe, when in truth it's the people who are around us that matter. Where we are has nothing to do with it.

She felt safer back here, separated from this man by four feet of shining wood.

Because being with her felt so right. It was right.

You have to leave the city of your comfort & go into the wilderness of your intuition. What you'll discover will be wonderful. What you'll discover is yourself. -Alan Alda

My nightmares are usually about losing you. I'm okay once I realize you're here.

I can feel Peeta press his forehead into my temple and he asks, 'So now that you've got me, what are you going to do with me?' I turn into him. 'Put you somewhere you can't get hurt.

I clench his hands to the point of pain. "Stay with me." His pupils contract to pinpoints, dialate again rapidly, and then return to something resembling normalcy. "Always," he murmurs.

In the end, the only person I truly want to comfort me is Haymitch, because he loves Peeta, too.

You're not going to die. I forbid it. All right?" "All right," he whispers.

In stark contrast to two nights ago, when I felt Peeta was a million miles away, I'm struck by his immediacy now. As we settle in, he pulls my head down to use his arm as a pillow; the other rests protectively over me even when he goes to sleep. No one has held me like this in such a long time. Since my father died and I stopped trusting my mother, no one else's arms have made me feel this safe.

Go to sleep," he says softly. His hand brushes the lose strands of my hair off my forehead. Unlike the staged kisses and caresses so far, this gesture seems natural and comforting. I don't want him to stop and he doesn't. He's still stroking my hair when I fall asleep.

Several sets of arms would embrace me. But in the end, the only person I truly want to comfort me is Haymitch, because he loves Peeta, too. I reach out for him and say something like his name and he's there, holding me and patting my back. "It's okay. It'll be okay, sweetheart." He sits me on a length of broken marble pillar and keeps an arm around me while I sob.

Sometimes when things are particularly bad, my brain will give me a happy dream. [...] When I fully awaken, I'm momentarily comforted. I try to hold on to the peaceful feeling of the dream, but it quickly slips away, leaving me sadder than ever.

There's no point in comforting words, in telling her she'll be all right. She's no fool. Her hand reaches out and I clutch it like a lifeline. As if it's me who's dying instead of Rue.

I miss home badly sometimes. But then I remember there's nothing left to miss anymore. I feel safer here.

I don't know what I expected from my first meeting with Peeta after the announcement. A few hugs and kisses. A little comfort maybe. Not this. I turn to Haymitch. "Don't worry, I'll get you more liquor.

I drink in his wholeness, the soudness of his body and mind. It runs through me like the morphling they give me in the hospital, dulling the pain of the last weeks.

I reach for Prim in the twilight, clamp my hand on her leg and pull myself over to her. Her voice remains steady as she croons to Buttercup. "It's all right, baby, it's all right. We'll be OK down there." My mother wraps her arms around us. I allow myself to feel young for a moment and rest my head on her shoulder.

Vorrei poter fermare il tempo e vivere così per sempre" Di solito questi riferimenti al suo imperituro amore nei miei confronti mi fanno sentire in colpa e a disagio. Ma mi sento così tranquilla e rilassata e al di là di qualsiasi preoccupazione per un futuro che comunque non avrò che mi lascio sfuggire due semplici parole: "Va bene" Sento il sorriso nella sua voce. "Allora sei d'accordo?" "Sono d'accordo" dico io.

Peeta crouches down on the other side of her and strokes her hair. When he begins to speak in a soft voice, it seems almost nonsensical, but the words aren't for me. "With my paint box at home, I can make every color imaginable. Pink. As pale as a baby's skin. Or as deep as rhubarb. Green like spring grass. Blue that shimmers like ice on water.

Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes, and when again they open, the sun will rise.

Since my father died and I stopped trusting my mother, no one else's arms have made me feel this safe.

And when again it's morning, they' ll wash away. Here it's safe, here it's warm Here the daisies guard you from every harm

Tick, tock," whispers Wiress. I guide her in front of me and get her to lie down, stroking her arm to soothe her. She drifts off, stirring restlessly, occasionally sighing out her phrase. "Tick, tock." "Tick, tock," I agree softly. "It's time for bed. Tick, tock. Go to sleep.