Quotes About Healing

Sometimes when things get taken away from you it feels like there's a hole at your centre where you can feel the wind blow through, that's sure.

I saw kids die of tuberculosis, influenza, pneumonia and broken hearts at St. Jerome's.

I've come to understand that the pain of a wound or a loss is over as it happens. What follows is the pain of getting well.

They scooped out our insides, Saul. We are not responsible for that. We are not responsible for what happened to us. None of us are," Fred said. LBut our healing - that's up to us.

I felt as though nothing had changed. I felt as though the only thing I had done was quit drinking. Only the land offered me any kind of solace.

They scooped out our insides, Saul. We're not responsible for that. We're not responsible for what happened to us. None of us are." Fred said. "But our healing—that's up to us. That's what saved me. Knowing it was my game." "Could be a long game," I said. "So what if it is?" he said. "Just keep your stick on the ice and your feet moving. Time will take care of itself.

I understood then how hard years are to get a hold of, how elusive the life in them can be to capture and retell. I understood then too that time does not heal all wounds. I wanted to say it all in one brilliantly executed sentence, encompass all of it in a succinct, effortless rush. But I couldn't. I was at a loss where to begin.

They scooped out our insides, Saul. We're not responsible for that. We're not responsible for what happened to us. None of us are. Fred said. But our healing--that's up to us. That's what saved me. Knowing it was my game.

Divorce is one of the most financially traumatic things you can go through. Money spent on getting mad or getting even is money wasted.

Where do you flee when facing darkness and shadows in life? Find a favorite photo of a mountain or hill. It could be a photograph from a vacation, nearby sites, or even a postcard, magazine cut-out or greeting card. Put it in a place where you will see it whenever you face difficulties. Then envision Jesus carrying you up the mountain of myrrh where He will bring you refreshment and healing so that you can return to bring His fragrance to others.

And when the sobs finally begin they are long, scalding ones, the kind that come again and again.

He watched as I slipped one of the shoes on. "You have a guardian angel." "I don't believe in angels," I told him. "I believe in what I can do for myself." Well then, you have an amazing body." I glanced up at him with a questioning look. "For healing, I mean. I heard about the accident...

I'm sorry." "Be sorry you lied," he said, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Don't be sorry you loved him. That's part of you, part you have to let go, yeah, but still something that's made you who you are.

I stopped. She was bleeding after all. Perfect lines crossed her wrists, not near any crucial veins, but enough to leave wet red tracks across her skin. She hadn;t hit her veins when she did this; death hadn't been her goal.

No matter how long or how difficult, we will undo whatever that Moroi boy has done to you." I managed a wavering smile, tasting blood in my mouth. "You sure about that, Dad? Because he's done everything to me.

How we love others is affected by how we love ourselves, and for the first time in a long time, I was whole.

I know," she said, guessing my thoughts. "I know exactly how you feel." "Does it get easier?" I asked. Unlike Sydney, Olena had an answer. "Yes. But you'll never be the same.

I sighed and stared off without any particular focus. "I miss him so much." "I'm sorry," she said. "Will it ever get better?" The question seemed to catch her by surprise. "I...I don't know.

I didn't get her cutting at all. She'd done it sporadically, ever since the accident and it scared me each time. She'd try to explain it to me, how she didn't want to die—she just needed to get it out somehow. She felt so much emotionally, she would say, that a physical outlet—physical pain—was the only way to make the internal pain go away. It was the only way she could control it.

I've lost someone, too; someone I loved. I know how you feel." - Does it get easier? "Yes. But you'll never be the same again.

Don't be sorry you loved him. That's part of you, part you have to let go...

My mom beat me up," I informed my reflection. It looked back sympathetically.

Feel guilty. Mourn this. But move on. Don't let it destroy you. Forgive yourself.

You…you need to move on," I managed. Yes, that was a sound reason. "You need to find someone else. You know I don't—that I can't. Well, you know. You're wasting your time with me." He remained firm. "It's my time to waste.