欧宝娱乐

“I felt very still and empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel, moving dully along in the middle of the surrounding hullabaloo.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

“I lean to you, numb as a fossil. Tell me I'm here.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Collected Poems

“I have outlasted all desire,
My dreams and I have grown apart;
My grief alone is left entire,
The gleamings of an empty heart.

The storms of ruthless dispensation
Have struck my flowery garland numb,
I live in lonely desolation
And wonder when my end will come.

Thus on a naked tree-limb, blasted
By tardy winter's whistling chill,
A single leaf which has outlasted
Its season will be trembling still.”
― Alexander Pushkin

“Traumatized people chronically feel unsafe inside their bodies: The past is alive in the form of gnawing interior discomfort. Their bodies are constantly bombarded by visceral warning signs, and, in an attempt to control these processes, they often become expert at ignoring their gut feelings and in numbing awareness of what is played out inside. They learn to hide from their selves.鈥� (p.97)”
― Bessel A. van der Kolk, The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma

“I guess I should have reacted the way most of the other girls were, but I couldn't get myself to react. I felt very still and very empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel, moving dully along in the middle of the surrounding hullabaloo.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

“We gaze continually at the world and it grows dull in our perceptions. Yet seen from another's vantage point, as if new, it may still take the breath away.”
― Alan Moore, Watchmen

“The first time it was reported that our friends were being butchered there was a cry of horror. Then a hundred were butchered. But when a thousand were butchered and there was no end to the butchery, a blanket of silence spread.
When evil-doing comes like falling rain, nobody calls out "stop!"

When crimes begin to pile up they become invisible. When sufferings become unendurable the cries are no longer heard. The cries, too, fall like rain in summer.”
― Bertolt Brecht, Selected Poems

“Numb the dark and you numb the light.”
― Bren茅 Brown, Daring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead

“You know, I think the people I feel saddest for are the ones who once knew what profoundness was, but who lost or became numb to the sensation of wonder, who felt their emotions floating away and just didn't care. I guess that's what's scariest: not caring about the loss.”
― Douglas Coupland, Player One: What Is to Become of Us

“I thought about suicide all the time, but it seemed toomuch effort, swallowing all those pills or jumping off things. If I'd lived out in the country I would have found a quiet stretch of railway track, and lain on it, fallen asleep, so that I would never have known when my last moment came. In London, the minimum tube fare had gone up so much that even to get near the line cost a fortune. Suicide seemed an extravagance I couldn't afford. People never leave you alone, either; I knew that if I'd tried to lie down on the line, any number of commuters would have pulled me off again, so that I didn't delay their train.
There must have been murderers out there who wanted to kill, with no way of finding those who wanted to be dead. If there had been some way of contacting them, a date-with-death line, I would have called them to set up a meeting. The current ways of death seemed too haphazard; it was all left up to chance. Had Chance come up, tapped me on the shoulder, said "Oi, you - long black tunnel, white light, off you go," I wouldn't have complained.
It was like having frostbite all over - feeling numb and in pain at the same time.”
― Helena Dela, The Count

“Art can blow us out of our pigeon hole. In deafness it may shout or scream, in blindness it may arrest our attention, in numbness it may shake up our mind. If we don鈥檛 sense anything at all and take everything for granted, art can kick us in the ass, give a conscience and make us aware. ("When is Art?")”
― Erik Pevernagie

“When our mental functioning is whittling away and our mind becomes a lame duck, perception does not form the context anymore and all connections on the social chessboard are conked out. Only patience and endurance may draw us out of the quagmire of numbness and allow us to tear open the cloudy screen that is hiding our points of 鈥榠nterest鈥� and 鈥榓ttention鈥�, so long as we focus on the 鈥榮ingular moments鈥� and the 鈥榓ppealing details鈥� in our life. Awareness can help us shape a comprehensive picture for a functional future. ("Lost the global story.")”
― Erik Pevernagie

“Some attribute had departed from her, the permanence of which had been essential to keep her a woman. Such is frequently the fate, and such the stern development, of the feminine character and person, when the woman has encountered, and lived through, an experience of peculiar severity. If she be all tenderness, she will die. If she survive, the tenderness will either be crushed out of her, or鈥攁nd the outward semblance is the same鈥攃rushed so deeply into her heart that it can never show itself more.”
― Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Scarlet Letter

“The keen edge that may save emotional waifs and strays from numbness is the enlivening hunch of being dearly missed or expected. This very outlook ensures a comforting ground for faltering footfalls. ("Knowing someone was waiting")”
― Erik Pevernagie

“When the murmuring of love swells the river of our inner and overflows the boundaries of our emotions, the banks of oblivion start bursting, and its healing power overwhelms the numbness of our mindset. ("Crystallization under an umbrella")”
― Erik Pevernagie

“Dissociation gets you through a brutal experience, letting your basic survival skills operate unimpeded鈥our ability to survive is enhanced as the ability to feel is diminished鈥ll feeling are blocked; you 鈥榞o away.鈥� You are disconnected from the act, the perpetrator & yourself鈥iewing the scene from up above or some other out-of-body perspective is common among sexual abuse survivors.”
― Renee Fredrickson, Repressed Memories: A Journey to Recovery from Sexual Abuse

“At such moments the collapse of their courage, willpower, and endurance was so abrupt that they felt they could never drag themselves out of the pit of despond into which they had fallen. Therefore they forced themselves never to think about the problematic day of escape, to cease looking to the future, and always to keep, so to speak, their eyes fixed on the ground at their feet. But, naturally enough, this prudence, this habit of feinting with their predicament and refusing to put up a fight, was ill rewarded. For, while averting that revulsion which they found so unbearable, they also deprived themselves of those redeeming moments, frequent enough when all is told, when by conjuring up pictures of a reunion to be, they could forget about the plague. Thus, in a middle course between these heights and depths, they drifted through life rather than lived, the prey of aimless days and sterile memories, like wandering shadows that could have acquired substance only by consenting to root themselves in the solid earth of their distress.”
― Camus Albert, The Plague

“After great pain, a formal feeling comes 鈥�
The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs 鈥�
The stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore,
And Yesterday, or Centuries before?

The Feet, mechanical, go round 鈥�
Of Ground, or Air, or Ought 鈥�
A Wooden way
Regardless grown,
A Quartz contentment, like a stone 鈥�

This is the Hour of Lead 鈥�
Remembered, if outlived,
As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow 鈥�
First 鈥� Chill 鈥� then Stupor 鈥� then the letting go 鈥�”
― Emily Dickenson, Selected Poems

“You've faced horrors in these past weeks... I don't know which is worse. The terror you feel the first time you witness such things, or the numbness that comes after it starts to become ordinary.”
― Tasha Alexander, A Fatal Waltz

“She had been defeated by herself alone, and the sadness of it left a dark shadow in her heart. It further sapped her confidence and left her ever more withdrawn, ever more capable of suppressing her feelings. Like her roughened hands, her sensitivity was slowly being hardened, and she drew relief from the numbness creeping through her.”
― Yo Yo, Ghost Tide

“Eventually, however, the denial turned into emptiness and my childhood ended.”
― Floyd C. Forsberg, The Toughest Prison of All

“Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.

Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin' ship
My senses have been stripped, my hands can't feel to grip
My toes too numb to step, wait only for my boot heels
To be wanderin'
I'm ready to go anywhere, I'm ready for to fade
Into my own parade, cast your dancing spell my way
I promise to go under it.”
― Bob Dylan

“This moment would define my memory of that night, and of the many nights like it, for a decade. In it I saw myself as unbreakable, as tender as stone. At first I merely believed this, until one day it became the truth. Then I was able to tell myself, without lying, that it didn't affect me, that he didn't affect me, because nothing affected me. I didn't understand how morbidly right I was. How I had hollowed myself out. For all my obsessing over the consequences of that night, I had misunderstood the vital truth: that its not affecting me, that was its effect.”
― Tara Westover, Educated

“And... well, she had done it. Just as she said she would. She felt nothing - which was good - no, which was great. You could get anything you wanted in this world if you didn't feel. It was just a shame that she couldn't feel happy about it. She would've settled for feeling satisfaction at what she'd done, but feeling nothing at all was better than feeling bad. If that was all there was, then that was all she wanted or needed”
― Malorie Blackman, Tell Me No Lies

“Maybe then he would have understood her better, understood how suffering steals the aptitude for happiness from you. Maybe he would have been okay with her melancholy then.”
― Amber Sparks, And I Do Not Forgive You: Stories & Other Revenges

“Now, it felt like every day a new oozing pustule of emotion came glopping out. One day it was a goopy mass of abandonment issues. Then there was the gelatinous muck of hyper-independence weighing down her proverbial galoshes. The steaming, writhing mass that was her identity crisis was particularly pungent some days. It had come to her attention the hard way that for years her coping mechanism had been to numb herself; turn her emotions off completely. Any that snuck through were instantly squashed under humor, deflection, or anger. A perfect plan, until that damn straw had hit the camel's stupid back.”
― Andrea Schwagerl, The Project

“In another minute life would be painful. The words were coming back, and inside the wrappings of the words there would be thoughts lying there. The hot sun would shrivel them; they must be kept inside in the dark.”
― Paul Bowles, The Sheltering Sky

“It was missing, gone away, this anger, and, as with the legs which I could see but couldn't feel, and the ground I knew was there but above which I seemed to be floating, it was as if I had no right to be angry anymore because if I'd managed this differently it wouldn't now be my fault.”
― Anna Burns, Milkman

“I should have been angry, but I was struggling to feel much of anything.”
― Karie Fugett, Alive Day: A Memoir

“Grief is the hardest emotion to describe, because so much of it is numbness; it is also passive, something one undergoes rather than something one undertakes. It becomes difficult to locate oneself. When Maria went missing, a part of me did too. My capacity for love, which had always seemed elusive and equivocal even to me, was bound up in my relationship with her. I discovered that after her death. I had not known it before. It is a familiar story. There is nothing original about pain.”
― John Lanchester, Fragrant Harbor