Quotes About Healing

My little brother is in rehab. My little brother is in rehab. I feel like these words are written on my arms whenever I push up my sleeves, written on my cheeks whenever they relax out of my fake smile. They want to come out of my mouth, all the time. When I am called upon in class, or when someone says, "Hey, what's up?" - that's what I want to answer. "My little brother's in rehab." But I never do.

Don't cause distress, she said. Don't remind people of a loss. "Do you understand, Cady? Silence is a protective coating over pain.

I had lost my dad. I had come here to this island from a house of tears and falsehood and I saw Gat, and I saw that rose in his hand, and in that one moment, with the sunlight from the window shining in on him, the apples on the kitchen counter, the smell of wood and ocean in the air, I did call it love.

Do you still miss Gran?" I ask him as we head toward New Clairmont. "Because I miss her. We never talk about her." "A part of me died," he says. "And it was the best part.

She wanted to see all his scars, see all of him, and she felt suddenly, intensely certain that he was a safe person to show her own scars to.

At least for today. Let's pretend I'm not a mess, let's pretend you're not angry. Let's act like we're friends and forget what happened

Do you understand, Cady? Silence is a protective coating over pain.

As if talking about something could make it better. As if wounds needed attention.

Gat almost always saw, though. When blood dripped on my bare feet or poured over the book I was reading, he was kind. He wrapped my wrists in soft white gauze and asked me questions about what had happened...as if talking about something could make it better. As if wounds needed attention.

Do you still miss Gran?" I ask him as we head toward New Clairmont. "Because I miss her. We never talk about her." "A part of me died," he says. "And it was the best part." "You think so?" I ask "That is all there is to say about it," says Granddad.

Gat almost always saw, though. When blood dripped bare feet or poured over the book I was reading, he was kind He wrapped my wrists in soft white gauze and asked me ques tions about what had happened. He asked about Dad and about Gran as if talking about something could make it better. As if wounds needed attention.

We believe in outdoor exercise. We believe that time heals. We believe, although we will not say so explicitly, in prescription drugs and the cocktail hour.

We have to forget a little bit before we can forgive; when we no longer experience the pain as fresh, the insult is easier to forgive.

Sessizlik, ac?n?n üzerindeki koruyucu bir z?rh gibidir.

It was important, she said; it was kind; it was best. Don't cause distress, she said. Don't remind people of a loss. "Do you understand, Cady? Silence is a protective coating over pain.

Silence is a productive coating over pain." -We Were Liars

Be sad. Be sorry. But don't shoulder it." -We Were Liars

Silence is a protective coating over pain." I understood, and I managed to erase Granny Tipper from conversation, the same way I had erased my father. Not happily, but thoroughly.

Silence is a protective coating over pain. (p.29)

Be sad, be sorry - but don't shoulder it.

No one can keep his griefs in their prime; they use themselves up.

A Rattlesnake, if Cornered will become so angry it will bite itself. That is exactly what the harboring of hate and resentment against others is — a biting of oneself. We think we are harming others in holding these spites and hates, but the deeper harm is to ourselves.

A Rattlesnake, if Cornered will become so angry it will bite itself. That is exactly what the harboring of hate and resentment against others is - a biting of oneself. We think we are harming others in holding these spites and hates, but the deeper harm is to ourselves.

So it's true, when all is said and done, grief is the price we pay for love.