I Am Bleeding Quotes & Sayings

O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth, / That I am meek and gentle with these butchers! — William Shakespeare

This obsession is a curious thing. Sometimes wonder about the merits of devoting so much of myself to a singular climbing objective. Much of the time it beats me down, leaves me hanging my head in despair. But then there are the moments that bring me to life. When excitement wells up inside my chest in a way that doesn't happen in every day life. Today my fingertips were cracked and bleeding. I made no progress despite great conditions. Now I am on the ground and can hardly contain my excitement to get back on the wall. It's a crazy rollercoaster and I owe my family and partners a great deal for encouraging me through it all. — Tommy Caldwell

We need a god who bleeds now
a god whose wounds are not
some small male vengeance
some pitiful concession to humility
a desert swept with dryin marrow in honor of the lord
we need a god who bleeds
spreads her lunar vulva & showers us in shades of scarlet
thick & warm like the breath of her
our mothers tearing to let us in
this place breaks open
like our mothers bleeding
the planet is heaving mourning our ignorance
the moon tugs the seas
to hold her/to hold her
embrace swelling hills/i am
not wounded i am bleeding to life
we need a god who bleeds now
whose wounds are not the end of anything — Ntozake Shange

Toxic shame, the shame that binds us, is experienced as the all-pervasive sense that "I am flawed and defective as a human being." Toxic shame is no longer an emotion that signals our limits; it is a state of being, a core identity. Toxic shame gives you a sense of worthlessness, a sense of failing and falling short as a human being. Toxic shame is a rupture of the self with the self. It is like internal bleeding - exposure to oneself lies at the heart of toxic shame. A shame-based person will guard against exposing his inner self to others, but more significantly, he will guard against exposing himself to himself. Toxic shame is so excruciating because it is the painful exposure of the perceived failure of self to the self. In toxic shame the self becomes an object of its own contempt, an object that can't be trusted. As an object that can't be trusted, one experiences oneself as untrustworthy. — John Bradshaw

I don't think my work is so much about opening up wounds. I think it's about understanding the nature of the wound. I'm not bleeding on the canvas. I, like most people, have suffered traumatic events. The character of a person's life is determined by the way they deal with those events. I am a creative person and I deal with it creatively. — Eric Fischl

Perhaps i am a masochist.
No. Not Possible. If I were basically a masochist then most of my life would have been just nothing but concentrated fun. Every time I woke up, bleeding from my heart and soul, I'd find myself barely able to hide my joy. — A. L. Kennedy

The other Max looked at me, and her eyes narrowed. 'They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,' she said snidely. 'So I guess you're really sucking up.'
'Who are you?' I gasped, my eyes wide. 'You're an impostor!'
'No she isn't.' The little creepy one, Angel, turned to look at me. Her arm was still bleeding where Ari had bitten it. 'You are.'
I swallowed my anger. Who did she think she was, her and her stupid dog? I gave a concerned smile. 'But Angel,' I said, sincerity dripping from my voice, 'how can you say that? You know who I am.'
'I think I'm Angel,' she said. 'And my dog isn't stupid. You're the stupid one, to think that you could fool us. I can read minds, you idiot. — James Patterson

Are you anything akin to me, do you think, Jane?"
I could risk no sort of answer by this time; my heart was full.
"Because," he said, "I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you - especially when you are near to me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous Channel, and two hundred miles or so of land, come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapped; and then I've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly. — Charlotte Bronte

I know who you are," he says.
Something about his tone causes my heart of smoke to flicker in response, and I throw my guard up. "Oh? And who, O boy of Parthenia, am I?"
He nods to himself, his eyes alight. "You're her. You're that jinni. Oh, gods. Oh, great bleeding gods! You're the one who started the war!"
"Excuse me?"
"You're the jinni who betrayed that famous queen - what was her name? Roshana? She was trying to bring peace between the jinn and the humans, but you turned on her and started the Five Hundred Wars."
I turn cold. I want him to stop, but he doesn't.
"I've heard the stories," he says. "I've heard the songs. They call you the Fair Betrayer, who enchanted humans with your . . ." He pauses to swallow. "Your beauty. You promised them everything, and then you ruined them. — Jessica Khoury

I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you - especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous Channel, and two hundred miles or so of land come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt; and then I've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly. As for you, - you'd forget me." "That I never should, sir: you know - " Impossible to proceed. — Charlotte Bronte

Puppy, I am getting so tired of listening to you whine about this," he snarled at Zeke. "This isn't rocket science. If you don't want to be a monster, don't be a bloody monster! Be an uptight stick in the mud like Kanin. Be a self-righteous bleeding heart like Allison. Or you can stop agonizing about it and be a fucking monster. — Julie Kagawa

I am the bridge between the bleeding edge and the dead center. I stand between the Wizard of Oz and the man behind the curtain.
I am the curtain. — Peter Watts

I am only certain of one thing. If we are the sum total of our relationships, my balance sheet is bleeding red ink. — Cindy Cruciger

His feet went banging down some stairs. He closed his eyes. They went through cinders and dirt, his heels gathering small windrows of trash. A dim world receded above his upturned toes, shapes of skewed shacks erupted bluely in the niggard lamplight. The rusting carcass of an automobile passed slowly on his right. Dim scenes pooling in the summer night, wan ink wash of junks tilting against a paper sky, rorschach boatmen poling mutely over a mooncobbled sea. He lay with his head on the moldy upholstery of an old car seat among packingcrates and broken shoes and suncrazed rubber toys in the dark. Something warm was running on his chest. He put up a hand. I am bleeding. Unto my death. — Cormac McCarthy

Keep it always with you that laughter who knock at your door and say, 'May I come in?' is not the true laughter. No! he is a king, and he come when and how he like. He ask no person; he choose no time of suitability. He say, 'I am here.' ... Oh, friend John, it is a strange world, a sad world, a world full of miseries, and woes, and troubles; and yet when King Laugh come he make them all dance to the tune he play. Bleeding hearts, and dry bones of the churchyard, and tears that burn as they fall - all dance together to the music that he make with that smileless mouth of him. And believe me, friend John, that he is good to come, and kind. Ah, we men and women are like ropes drawn tight with strain that pull us different ways. Then tears come; and, like the rain on the ropes, they brace us up, until perhaps the strain become too great, and we break. But King Laugh he come like the sunshine, and he ease off the strain again; and we bear to go on with our labour, what it may be. — Bram Stoker

I know, to the deepest marrow of my bones that I love you, that I want you, that I could not do, not a'tall, without making you mine one day. So call me weak, I don't bleeding care. Call me greedy, for I am that. I want you now, forever and always. — Eden Butler

Let me not be weak and tell others how bleeding I am internally; how day by day it drips, and gathers, and congeals. — Sylvia Plath

I must warn you right here and now that I am a 'wet leftie,' a 'leftist' and also a member of the 'bleeding heart liberal left.' I had no say in it whatsoever. I woke up one morning, and these things were tattooed across my forehead. — Michael Leunig

My nails are broken, my fingers are bleeding, my arms are covered with the welts left by the paws of your guards - but I am a queen! — Sophocles

I feel incredibly successful. I make a living as a writer and am able to help support a big family, my church, my bleeding-heart causes. — Anne Lamott

If I am frightened then I can hide it
If I am crying, I'll call it laughter
If I am haunted, I'll call it my imaginary friend
If I am bleeding I'll call it wine
But if you leave me then I am broken
And if I'm broken then only death remains — Elvis Costello

some food for thought, if you're able to digest it. I believe you're completely out of ammunition and have been for the last few minutes. Am I right?" He waited for an answer he wouldn't get. "No matter. The only reason I haven't rushed you, or had one of my men roll a hand grenade your way is because you have something of mine. I wish it back unharmed." He meant the data disk I'd stolen; he didn't know I'd already hidden it. "So let's take a moment to pause in this fracas for some itemization. First, you're bleeding. I should know; I inflicted your wounds. Plus you're afraid. And who wouldn't be in your position? Finally, you and I — Cameron Bane

His first stretch alerted me to a concerning issue. "Um, Raphael, I think you should change."
Biceps bulged, thigh muscles popped, and I was fairly certain he just added another pack to his abs. "I am quite comfortable, Abigail Miller."
I crossed my arms. "Well, I'm not. I know you go commando under your skirt and I don't want to see angel parts I wasn't meant to see."
He shot me a sideways glance. "You have seen said angel parts on Alexander. Mine are much more impressive, however."
My mouth and eyes widened. "Oh my gosh! I cannot believe you said that, Raphael. And it was an accident!"
He continued to stare.
"I was bleeding to death!"
He tilted his head at me, remaining silent.
I threw up my arms. "Fine, wear the damn skirt. But you had better keep things tucked in. Any hint of said angel parts and this is over."
Raphael smiled. He won? How did he do that? He was diabolical. — Ashlan Thomas

You're bleeding," he said. "A thorn prick, no more," she stated. "I didn't know fairy creatures could bleed. I always fancied them spun of mist and moonlight, not flesh and blood." "Let go." "No, my love - " "I'm not a fairy creature, and I am surely not your love." "It's just an expression." "It's a lie. But 'tis no high wonder to me. I'd be expecting falsehoods from a Sassenach." "Poor Caitlin. Does it hurt?" Very slowly, with his eyes fixed on hers, he put her finger to his lips and gently slipped it inside his mouth. Too shocked to stop him, she felt the warmth of his mouth, the moist velvet brush of his tongue over the pad of her finger. Then with an excess of gentleness he drew it out and placed her hand in her lap. "I think the bleeding's stopped," he said. — Susan Wiggs

Apprehensions"

There is this white wall, above which the sky creates itself-
Infinite, green, utterly untouchable.
Angels swim in it, and the stars, in indifference also.
They are my medium.
The sun dissolves on this wall, bleeding its lights.

A grey wall now, clawed and bloody.
Is there no way out of the mind?
Steps at my back spiral into a well.
There are no trees or birds in this world,
There is only sourness.

This red wall winces continually:
A red fist, opening and closing,
Two grey, papery bags-
This is what i am made of, this, and a terror
Of being wheeled off under crosses and rain of pietas.

On a black wall, unidentifiable birds
Swivel their heads and cry.
There is no talk of immorality among these!
Cold blanks approach us:
They move in a hurry. — Sylvia Plath

I need a soul mate so that I can be who I am, naked. I want there to be someone who picks up my heavy, bleeding heart and takes it somewhere safe and warm. — Ville Valo

I beheld before me an animated Corse. Her countenance was long and haggard; Her cheeks and lips were bloodless; The paleness of death was spread over her features, and her eye-balls fixed stedfastly upon me were lustreless and hollow.
I gazed upon the Spectre with horror too great to be described. My blood was frozen in my veins. I would have called for aid, but the sound expired, ere it could pass my lips. My nerves were bound up in impotence, and I remained in the same attitude inanimate as a Statue.
The visionary Nun looked upon me for some minutes in silence: There was something petrifying in her regard. At length in a low sepulchral voice She pronounced the following words.
Raymond! Raymond! Thou art mine!
Raymond! Raymond! I am thine!
In thy veins while blood shall roll,
I am thine!
Thou art mine!
Mine thy body! Mine thy soul!
— Matthew Gregory Lewis

God still speaks to us. He speaks not from a life of ease, far removed from our suffering. He speaks from the cross, the same place of agony where we live. He speaks as one who joins our suffering wherever we are. He blesses us as he says, "I am with you now in your suffering. Take courage. Soon you will be with me in Paradise." So we realize that from the cross Jesus enacts the words of Aaron's benediction. Lifted on the rough beams, Jesus is yet God shining on us in favor. Even when we killed him, Jesus was gracious to us. Lined with pain, cut and bleeding, his countenance yet radiated love. The most shameful thing human beings have ever done, putting the incarnate Son of God to death, has become the greatest sign of his blessing grace. — Gerrit Scott Dawson

He tried to remove it as gently as he could, but it wouldn't budge so he gave it a pretty good jerk and it ripped the skin on my lip. He got the butt all right, only now I could feel and taste the blood that was starting to drip down from my lip onto my survival vest. "Christ, you're bleeding, am I gonna have to Medivac you as well? Hey Doc, Captain Spicer is bleeding heavily from his lip, what should I do?" "Well Captain, you could put a tourniquet around his neck." "Naw, he looks gray in the face already. — W.R. Spicer

My country is bleeding, my people are perishing around me. But I feel as a South Carolinian, I am bound to tell the North, go on!go on! Never falter, never abandon the principles which you have adopted. — Angelina Grimke

Lula hauled herself up off the floor and put her hand to her neck. "Do I got holes? Am I bleeding? Do I look like I'm turning into a vampire?"
"No, no, and no," I told her. "He doesn't have his teeth in. He was just gumming you."
"That's disgustin'," Lula said. "I been gummed by a old vampire. I feel gross. My neck's all wet. What's on my neck?"
I squinted over at Lula. "Looks like a hickey."
"Are you shitting me? This worthless bag of bones gave me a hickey?" Lula pulled a mirror out of her purse and checked her neck out. "I'm not happy," Lula said. "First off I don't know if I got vampire cooties from this. And second, how am I gonna explain a hickey to my date tonight — Janet Evanovich

I'm falling for Kate. How could I? My best friend is in love with her. And she with him. You must never let them know - the words sizzle through my mind, and I feel like I am bleeding internally. — Amy Plum

It was called 'We Wear the Mask', by Paul Laurence Dunbar. I transcribed the first stanza and then started jotting down my reaction to it.

We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes, -
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.

I used to wear masks so subtle I barely noticed them. A compliment to my mother after a dismal meal, a smile at my best friend when she sang out of tune, a forced laugh at my uncle's bad jokes. I wore small masks that came and went, like fleeting expressions.

I am stuck inside the mask I wear now. I want to rip it off. I want to show my scars to the world, to unveil the ugliness that breathes inside me. I want to be unashamed. I want to be unafraid. But every day the mask gets tighter, and I suffocate a little more.

I stopped writing. — Catherine Doyle

You realize we can't go back to Sheridan."

"I know."

"Have to keep heading southwest now, and I don't know anything about the area. We'll probably get lost or walk into a road and a patrol."

"Well"-Hadrian looked down at Royce's side-"you're bleeding again, and I think I am, too, so the good news is we'll likely die before morning. Still, I suppose it could be worse."

"How?"

"They could have caught us at the tavern, or we could have drowned in that river."

"Either way we'd be dead. At this point I'm inclined to see that as better off."

"Anything can always be worse," Hadrian assured him.

They lay staring up at the sky and watching clouds blot out the stars. Royce heard it before he felt it. A distant patter on the blades of grass along the hillside. He turned once more to Hadrian. "I'm really starting to hate you. — Michael J. Sullivan

It is a long way to Ireland, Janet, and I am sorry to send my little friend on such weary travels: but if I can't do better, how is it to be helped? Are you anything akin to me, do you think, Jane?"
I could risk no sort of answer by this time: my heart was still.
"Because, he said, "I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you - especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous channel, and two hundred miles or so of land some broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt; and then I've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly. As for you, - you'd forget me. — Charlotte Bronte

And because she loved him so much, because she would always love him, she forced herself to say what needed to be said, although the words tore open every old bleeding wound she'd hidden away so deep within her. "And I would do it again," she whispered, "because you are who you are, while I am . . . what I am." His — C.S. Harris

I am a pacifist, danm it! And now I'm bleeding. What is wrong with you, you sick sicko? — Rachel Vail

He's a filler," Cammie says with more conviction than a suicide bomber.
"What does that mean?" I am studying the menu, contemplating an almond croissant.
"You know - stuff something into your heart quickly to stop it from cracking open ... from
bleeding out ... — Tarryn Fisher

A good man would tell you to stop writing. A good man would say to you, "No, love, don't wait for me. Live your life." A good man would be happy that you were off somewhere in the world doing all the things you deserve. But, Miss Ada, I am no good man. I am, in fact, selfish, very bleeding selfish when it comes to you. Good man or no, I will tell you I believe a life lived without love is one not worthy of living a'tall. — Eden Butler

And yet here I am. Broken and bleeding on the inside, heartsick, I am here. — Elizabeth Scott

I think I must be bleeding. I think, if I'm thinking, I must be alive. I think, my arms must be here somewhere, I can feel them under the concrete. I think, what am I holding, what am I lying on top of? — Joakim Zander

I wasn't crying, but my heart was crying. I wasn't feeling, but my heart was bleeding. Now I am crying, but my heart is healing. I am learning that I know nothing. — Benyf

I am a soft revolution. the one whose hair is bleeding. — Nayyirah Waheed