Quotes About Healing

Forgiveness is not forgetting

Forgiveness has a vertical and a horizontal dimension

Luke 17:3, on the other hand, is talking about forgiveness as a horizontal transaction between me and the offender. This is often referred to as reconciliation.

When there is no one with time to talk, no chance to find another approach, then we come to feel that we have to choose between pain and pills. [...] When painkillers work, that creates a particular danger, because then we can ignore the deeper sources of suffering. [...] Suffering and self medicating are both lonely activities; they feel like free choices, but they create an imbalance that leaves us in bondage.

Forgiveness is the fruit of understanding

Scratches inside the eye can be covered by a specs but Scratches inside our heart cannot be covered by anything

It is for this reason that art, true art, the one that comes from the soul, is so important in our lives. Art consoles us, it lifts us and directs us. Art cures us. We are not only that which we eat and the air that we breathe. We are also the stories we have heard, the tales we fell asleep listening to when we were children, the books we have read, the music we heard and the emotions that a painting, a statue, or a poem have given us.

If you're betrayed, release disappointment at once. By that way, the bitterness has no time to take root.

Some things don't pass, the injuries don't heal they merely find a place in our guts and in our bones where they fitfully rest, tossing and turning between our knuckles and ribs waiting to wake as the shadows grow long.

He said, You know, whoever hurt you dies every time they look in the mirror. That is how they pay." She crossed her arms. "And one day, Maria, you will die too, but there's no reason for you to die every day.

I think you two forgot how to love each other, and that's just like poison. Worst thing you can do is forgot how to love someone.

My Father Still Sleeping After Surgery In spite of himself, my father loved me. In spite of the hands that beat me, in spite of the mouth that kept silent, in spite of the face that turned cruel as a gold Chinese king, he could not control the love that came out of him. The body is monumental, a colossus through which he breathes. His hands crawl over his stomach jerkily as sand crabs on five legs; he makes a fist like the fist of a newborn.

We are all wounded by racism, but for some of us those wounds are anesthetized. None of us, black or white, wants to feel the pain that racism has caused. But when you feel it, you're awake.

Being poor is a little like having an earache over a Bank Holiday. All you can think about is the pain and how long it will be before a healing hand can be found to take away the anguish.

As we made love, our scars met, grazing long enough for mine to say "He tries to hide me," and for yours to reply "I know I embarrass her." "He never learned how to swim," whispered my scar. "She got picked last in gym class, then cried into her pillow," replied yours. Just then, a huge wound opened in me. You touched it. It closed. I was filled, fully healed, and I knew I would never be able not to love you.

Early hopes when the pandemic first hit that nature was 'healing' had turned on their head and it appeared that in fact the virus was on the side of greed and destruction after all, annihilating all that was small and true and firming up the grip megalomaniacs and madmen had on the planet, in an attempt to push us more quickly towards the abyss.

I would say the worst period of my life was between 1997 and 2000. I was lost, I was all at odds. I needed a family, I guess.

That's all drugs and alcohol do, they cut off your emotions in the end.

People, I think, are more interested in being offended than getting to the heart of a situation. And to go after comedians to me is so counterproductive, because comedy is kind of a medicine.

A woman brought her child with an abscess in the lower part of the back, and offered as much corn as she could carry for some medicine; we administered to it of course very cheerfully.

I think firmly that art is no use to anyone unless it offers some kind of consolation or hope.

I went to this one in Ohio, and then I became a counselor there, and it was just the most fun thing. I was so depressed when I came home from camp.

All of my gifts really come from a place of healing. I have homemade essential oils with a diffuser, which I've given to all my kids.

It's OK to take time off and say to friends that I need to get well.