There are a lot of myths about my injuries. They say I have broken every bone in my body. Not true. But I have broken 35 bones. I had surgery 14 times to pin and plate. I shattered my pelvis. I forget all of the things that have broke.
When our tools are broken, we feel broken. And when somebody fixes one, we feel a tiny bit more whole.
I think that there's a difference between getting your heart broken and getting let down.
A new breeze is blowing--and a nation refreshed by freedom stands ready to push on: there is new ground to be broken, and new action to be taken.
The amazing thing is that we're right to hold onto hope. The world may be broken but hope is not crazy.
The moment you go in, all connections with the outside world are broken; all bridges are broken. In fact, the whole world disappears.
It is not, truly speaking, the labour that is divided; but the men: divided into mere segments of men - broken into small fragments and crumbs of life, so that all the little piece of intelligence that is left in a man is not enough to make a pin, or a nail, but exhausts itself in making the point of a pin or the head of a nail.
Maybe that's why a broken machine always makes me a little sad, because it isn't able to do what it was meant to do. . . Maybe it's the same with people," Hugo continued. "If you lose your purpose. . . it's like your broken.
Frequently, as so many poets and psalmists and songwriters have said, the invisible shift happens through the broken places.
The physical powers of the body cannot be separated from the rationale of the mind and the emotions of the heart. They are one and the same, a compilation of a singular being. It is in the harmony of these three-body, mind, and heart- that we find spirit. . . . Spirit. In every language in all the Realms, surface and Underdark, in every time and every place, the word has a ring of strength and determination. It is the hero's strength, the mother's resilience, and the poor man's armor. It cannot be broken, and it cannot be taken away.
Oh, I wouldn't mind, Hazel Grace. It would be a privilege to have my heart broken by you.
To me, a forever love is a bond that can't be broken.
It's been a prevalent notion. Fallen sparks. Fragments of vessels broken at the Creation. And someday, somehow, before the end, a gathering back to home. A messenger from the Kingdom, arriving at the last moment. But I tell you there is no such message, no such home -- only the millions of last moments. . . nothing more. Our history is an aggregate of last moments.
Inertia is so easy—don't fix what's not broken. Leave well enough alone. So we end up accepting what is broken, mistaking complaining for action, procrastinating for deliberation.
This is a good sign, having a broken heart. It means we have tried for something.
The deep parts of my life pour onward, as if the river shores were opening out. I feel closer to what language can't reach. With my senses, as with birds, I climb into the windy heaven. . . in the ponds broken off from the sky. . .
Social change can be seen as a mosaic, taking that which is broken and creating something new.
I don't write songs about a specific, elusive thing. I write about love, and everyone knows what it is like to have your heart broken.
Records are made to be broken. It is in man's nature to continue to strive to do just that.
We are all of us, gods and mortals, made up of many pieces, some of them broken, some of them scarred, but none of them the total sum of who we are.