Fragile Handle With Care Quotes

Sometimes I wish I could walk around with a HANDLE WITH CARE sign stuck to my forehead.

There is a shipwreck between your ribs and it took eighteen years for me to understand how to understand your kind of drowning. There are people who cannot be held quietly. There are screams that are never externalized. If I looked at the photo albums of your past twenty years, all I would find are decibel meter graphs of phone calls and the intensity of your silence as you sat smoking cigarettes in the garage. There is a shipwreck between your ribs. You are a box with fragile written on it, and so many people have not handled you with care. And for the first time, I understand that I will never know how to apologize for being one of them.

What is the Absolute? Something that appears to us in fleeting experiences--say, through the gentle smile of a beautiful woman, or even through the warm caring smile of a person who may otherwise seem ugly and rude. In such miraculous but extremely fragile moments, another dimension transpires through our reality. As such, the Absolute is easily corroded;it slips all too easily through our fingers and must be handled as carefully as a butterfly

There is no cosmic scale on which you can weigh your actions; you learn too late what choices ruin the fragile balance.

It was Leslie who had taken him from the cow pasture into Terabithia and turned him into a king. He had thought that was it. Wasn't king the best you could be? Now it occurred to him that perhaps Terabithia was like a castle where you came to be knighted. After you stayed for a while and grew strong you had to move on. For hadn't Leslie, even in Terabithia, tried to push back the walls of his mind and make him see beyond to the shining world—huge and terrible and beautiful and very fragile? (Handle with care—everything—even the predators.) Now it was time for him to move out. She wasn't there, so he must go for both of them. It was up to him to pay back to the world in beauty and caring what Leslie had loaned him in vision and strength. As for the terrors ahead—for he did not fool himself that they were all behind him—well, you just have to stand up to your fear and not let it squeeze you white. Right, Leslie? Right.

Glass is transparent, right? And fragile. That's the fundamental nature of glass. And that's why objects that are made of glass have to be handled with care. After all, if they end up smashed or cracked or chipped, then they're good for nothing, right, you just have to chuck them away. Before, we used to have a kind of glass that couldn't be broken. A truth so hard and clear it might as well have been made of glass. So when you think about it, it was only when we were shattered that we proved we had souls. That what we really were was humans made of glass.

Shimamoto was in charge of the records. She'd take one from its jacket, place it carefully on the turntable without touching the grooves with her fingers, and, after making sure to brush the cartridge free of any dust with a tiny brush, lower the needle ever so gently onto the record. When the record was finished, she'd spray it and wipe it with a felt cloth. Finally she'd return the record to its jacket and its proper place on the shelf. Her father had taught her this procedure, and she followed his instructions with a terribly serious look on her face, her eyes narrowed, her breath held in check. Meanwhile, I was on the sofa, watching her every move. Only when the record was safely back on the shelf did she turn to me and give a little smile. And every time, this thought hit me: It wasn't a record she was handling. It was a fragile soul inside a glass bottle.

If you hurt him, he’ll probably kill you. He’s…fragile.” “Fragile?” Avi echoed. “Yes. Fragile like a hand grenade,” Noah said. “Fucking handle with care or he’ll blow up your whole goddamn life.

Definition of the Word Delicate, Since Defining Delicacy Isn’t Enough for Understanding Delicacy 1. Subtle and subdued. A delicate flavor. 2. Showing fragility. Delicate crystal. 3. Requiring sensitive or careful handling. Delicate situation. 4. Characterized by subtle judgment, deftness. Delicate chess maneuvers.

Remember, decisions don’t have to be made perfectly. We don’t have to be perfect. We don’t even have to be nearly perfect. We can just be who we are. We can make mistakes in our choices. We’re not so fragile we can’t handle making a mistake. It’s no big deal! It’s part of living. We can learn from our mistakes, or we can simply make another decision.

Terabithia was like a castle where you came to be knighted. After you stayed for a while and grew strong you had to move on. For hadn't Leslie, even in Terabithia, tried to push back the walls of his mind and make him see beyond to the shining world - huge and terrible and beautiful and very fragile? (Handle with care - everything - even the predators.)

This really wasn’t his fucking day, he thought as he shoved the door open and dragged the small woman behind him. “Fragile!” she yelled. “Handle with care! Handle with care, damn it!

Since his back was to her front Chloe had to practically plaster herself against his wide back in order to unbutton his crisp dress shirt, but somehow she didn’t mind. From his low, masculine groan that her action had elicited, she assumed Mark didn’t mind either. His spicy, dangerous scent filled her head as she spread the shirt to find a smooth, muscular chest leading down to powerfully sculpted abs. She wondered what line of work Mark was in. Whatever it was, he certainly kept himself in shape. “Are you enjoying yourself, Mistress?” His smart-ass tone threw her, breaking her concentration on his muscled chest. “I’ll ask the questions,” Chloe snapped, deciding abruptly that it was time to move on. She still felt a definite lack of control in this situation and it made her nervous, shattering the fragile self-confidence she’d managed to build. But she couldn’t stop searching him now or he’d be the winner of this little confrontation. She let her hands slide lower, past the waistband of his pants to the bulging crotch. Oh my God, is he for real? She hadn’t been with very many men—okay, two. She’d only been with two other men. But Mark more than measured up to any other guy in her experience. In fact, she could barely believe what she was feeling was real. It was a damn good thing rule number two was “never have sex with the client”. She was pretty sure she wouldn’t have been able to handle what Mark was packing. “Uh, Mistress, that’s all me, not a toy.” Mark’s deep voice still held a hint of amusement though it was sounding rather strained now. “And you might want to think of it less as a ‘toy’ than a loaded gun. One that’s going to go off if you’re not careful.

Looking at that boy's life, what is this thing we call a soul? Just some non-existent idea? Or something that might as well not exist? Or no, is it like a kind of glass? Glass is transparent right? And fragile. That's the fundamental nature of glass. And that's why objects made of glass have to be handled with care. After all, if they end up smashed or cracked or chipped then they're good for nothing, right, you just have to chuck them away. Before, we used to have a kind of glass that couldn't be broken. A truth so hard and clear it might as well have been made of glass. So when you think about it, it was only when we shattered that we proved we had souls . That what we really were was humans made of glass.

She floated in the midst of a living shadow. There was nothing but herself, surrounded by an unimaginable blackness. She could not think, not properly. She could only wait, while time or perhaps some incompetent impostor did its work. The emptiness was aeons long. Even imagination died. Aeons long. Then at last she felt something-a fluttering in the void, Oh God, it was real, it was! Something distant, but actually separate from herself. No, many somethings, small and alive, tiny blessed warm things where before there had been nothing but cold. She reached out eagerly, but the fluttering things darted away, frightened of her. She reached again and the presences retreated even farther. Her sorrow grew so large and painful that she was certain all that kept her coherent would burst and she would spill inside out into the darkness, disperse, collapse. She lay in cold misery. The things returned. This time she was careful, as careful as she could be, reaching out to them slowly, gently, feeling them in their terrible fragility. After a while they came to her without coaxing. She handled them with almost infinite caution, enfolded each one as gently as she could, a century between thoughts, a millennium betweeen excruciatingly restrained movements. Even so, some proved too vulnerable, and with tiny cries they were no more, bursting in her grasp like bubbles as they gave up their essences. It tore at her heart. The others flitted away, alarmed, and she was terrified, certain they would leave her forever. She called to them. Some came back. Oh, but they were delicate. Oh but they were beautiful. She wept, and the universe slowly convulsed.

In the afternoon, Eli suggests we take a nap so we can be rested for later, but I stay awake watching his blank sleeping face, his hand tucked restfully beneath the pillow. The doorbell rings and I pad out into the living room to press the intercom button. It’s Chaya, and I press the buzzer to let her in. “I heard what happened,” she says, after she is seated at my new dining room table, stocking feet crossed neatly under her chair. I wait for her to come to my defense, to say something soothing. Her face is hard when she continues. “If there’s one thing that makes a marriage work,” she says, “it’s that a man must be king in the bedroom. If he is king in the bedroom, then he feels like a king everywhere else, no matter what happens.” She pauses, looking intently at me, her hands clutching the handles of her black bucket purse. “You understand me?” she asks, waiting for confirmation. I nod, too flabbergasted to say anything. “Good,” she says, firmly, standing up and smoothing her skirt. “Then everything will be taken care of. I’m not even going to tell Bubby and Zeidy about this; why give them more bad news in their old age and fragile condition?” I hear the implications of that statement and feel immediately guilty. Still, as the door shuts behind her, I wait for it to hit me. How exactly will everything be taken care of? I wonder. Does she have a plan? Because I don’t.

LIBOR; fragile inside; handle with care.

I was rough. I was confident. I didn’t treat her like a china doll. A precious, fragile thing to be handled with care and pity.

Just that soft utterance of his name was enough. As if Malcolm hat spoken the single word needed to bind Seong-Jae to him: to strip away the last of the walls he clung to and leave him so completely open to a touch that could hurt so deeply no matter what gentleness it might intend. That was what loving someone meant, he realized. Letting them into all the places that hurt the most. And trusting them to handle those fragile things with utmost care, nonetheless.

Agile; a little fragile; handle with care.

Life is like a glass bowl—very fragile. Please handle it with utmost care because once it breaks, it will still have cracks even after glueing it together.

betrayal makes the heart fragile handle yourself with care

We'd hardly stepped three feet outside when Bee gasped, pointing to the garden to our right. "Henry!" she exclaimed, surveying hundreds of delicate light green leaves that had pushed up from the soil in grand formation, showcasing a carpet of tiny lavender-colored flowers, with dark purple centers. Bee looked astonished. "How did they... where did they come from?" Henry shook his head. "I noticed them two weeks ago. They just appeared." Bee turned to me, and upon seeing my confused face, she offered an explanation. "They're wood violets," she said. "I haven't seen them on the island since..." "They're very rare," Henry said, filling the void that Bee had left when her voice trailed off. "You can't plant them, for they won't grow. They have to choose you." Bee's eyes met Henry's, and she smiled, a gentle, forgiving smile. It warmed me to see it. "Evelyn has a theory about these flowers," she said, pausing as if to pull a dusty memory off a shelf in her mind, handling it with great care. "Yes," she said, the memory in plain view. "She used to say they grow where they are needed, that they signal healing, and hope. It's ridiculous, isn't it, Henry, to think that violets can know," Bee continued. Henry nodded. "Harebrained," he said in agreement. Bee shook her head in disbelief. "And to see them in bloom, in March of all months..." Henry nodded. "I know." Neither took their eyes off the petals before them, so fragile, yet in great numbers stalwart and determined.

Caution, folks! This package comes with a "handle with care" label, but let me tell you, I'm not just fragile glass; I'm a delicate balance of wit, charm, and cleverness. Treat me like a precious gem, and you'll unlock a treasure trove of laughter and amusement. But beware, mishandle me, and you might unleash a whirlwind of snarky comebacks! So, be gentle, be kind, and prepare for an adventure with this quirky, witty wonder!

I’ve never seen anything sexier as she lets me grip her hair and fuck her face. As tentative as I was with her when we first started having sex, Eloise has been quick to prove that’s not what she wants from me. She’s no fragile doll that wants to be carefully handled. She wants me to take her hard, and I’m inclined to oblige.

Whereas the will is made of titanium and steel, the human spirit is a million times more delicate. It reflects the self-concept or the sense of worthiness that a child feels. It is the most fragile characteristic in human nature and is especially vulnerable to rejection, ridicule, and failure. It must be handled with great care. How,

Kitchen (and people) maintenance is not very complicated. It boils down to two basic precepts: Handle fragile things with care, and clean up your messes as soon as possible. Anything else is extra.

He holds me loosely, delicately, like whatever shared fragile feelings between us could shatter if handled with a lack of care.