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...man...is a frail, lost creature, too weak to walk unaided.

 

William March

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I do think I go out of my way to be a very normal person and I just find it frustrating that people think that I'm some kind of weirdo reclusive that never comes out into the world. Y'know, I'm a very strong person and I think that's why actually I find it really infuriating when I read, 'She had a nervous breakdown' or 'She's not very mentally stable, just a weak, frail little creature'.

 

Kate Bush

 

Though you are weak and frail, though you are poor and helpless, God does not despise you; but would glorify your being with His own, and raise you to fellowship with Himself.

 

George C. Lorimer

 

Poor soul, he has always seemed to me an extremely weak creature, and lamentable much more than admirable. Weak in genius, weak in character (for these two always go together); a poor thin, spasmodic, hectic, shrill and pallid being; -- one of those unfortunates, of whom I often speak, to whom the 'talent of silence', first of all, has been denied. The speech of such is never good for much. Poor Shelley, there is something void and Hades-like in the whole inner-world of him; his universe is all vacant azure, hung with a few frosty mournful if beautiful stars; the very voice of him (his style &c), shrill, shrieky, to my ear has too much of the ghost!

 

Percy Bysshe Shelley

 

"I used to think being a good warrior meant not caring. About anything, myself especially. I took every risk i could. I flung myself in the path of demons. I think I gave Alec a complex about what kind of fighter he was, just because he wanted to live. I alway thought love made you stupid. Made you weak. A bad shadowhunter. To love is to destroy. I believed that. And then I met you. You were a mundane. Weak. Not a fighter. Never trained. And then I saw how much you loved your mother, loved Simon, and how you'd walk into hell to save them.------ Love didn't make you weak, it made you stronger than anyone I'd ever met. And I realized I was the one who was weak."

 

Cassandra Clare

 

Leader of the Chorus: Weak mortals, chained to the earth, creatures of clay as frail as the foliage of the woods, you unfortunate race, whose life is but darkness, as unreal as a shadow, the illusion of a dream.
(tr. O'Neill 1938, Perseus)

 

Aristophanes