Sometimes you must shed your skin to save it.
Because sometimes that is the only way to remember what is in your bones. You must peel off your skin, and that of your mother, and her mother. Until there is nothing. No scar, no skin, no flesh. -An-mei
Physically it's kind of lassitude, the apathy and tiredness that precedes the flu or some other illness, or death. My legs ache and feel heavy, my skin has become more sensitive to cold and to heat, to the hardness or rigidity of things. Nothing interests me, I feel uncomfortable being still but would feel even more uncomfortable if I moved. I don't know whether speaking is painful or just boring. I sit here, staring straight ahead, with no desires, no needs, hollow. I'm not even sad. I feel only passivity and indifference.
Worried about dry skin? Concerned about lines and wrinkles? Then visit a burns unit and get some perspective.
I'd rather bare skin than wear skin.
The problem was that I'd never worn a bikini before. My dad doesn't allow them. He thinks even one-pieces show too much skin and constantly suggests that Jane and I wear wet suits.
And what is it, thought I, after all! It’s only his outside; a man can be honest in any sort of skin.
I used to love the feeling of running, of running too far. It made my skin tingle.
Dressed in the lion's skin, the ass spread terror far and wide.
I'm on a diet as my skin doesn't fit me anymore.
I'm comfortable in my own skin, no matter how far it's stretched. Ha ha.
Growing up in the suburbs of Chicago, the color of my skin and my rather peculiar background as an Ethiopian immigrant delineated the border of my life and friendships. I learned quickly how to stand alone.
guileless and without vanity,we were still in love with ourselves then. We felt comfortable in our own skins, enjoyed the news that our senses released to us, admired our dirt, cultivated our scars, and could not comprehend this unworthiness.
You have to be really comfortable in your skin. You have to start with being in love with you are, with who you've become.
Then I placed the blade next to the skin on my palm. A tingle arched across my scalp. The floor tipped up at me and my body spilled away. Then I was on the ceiling looking down, waiting to see what would happen next.
Le langage est une peau: je frotte mon langage contre l'autre. Language is a skin; I rub my language against another language.
I've noticed that the less makeup I wear, the less I need it because my skin starts to look better - my face doesn't break out as often and I have fewer skin problems because I'm not clogging your pores every single day with makeup.
The heart never knows the colour of the skin
I think I've evolved into someone pretty confident - in myself and in my skin.
The devil is everywhere under the skin of things, searching for a way into the light.