Quotes About Hurt

All the salve in the world can't cure what gets broken in somebody's soul" -Mama

A woman wronged is an enemy forever.

Everybody's afraid of love, because love is what hurts the most.

He makes me wonder what damage I could do with them, how badly I could hurt someone if I hit them with a story.

Your hurt swallows ine, like space swallows time, and the two intertwine. We tangle together.

Every time we love, we increase our capacity to be hurt.

Wasn't it time she risked getting hurt again, instead of just accepting the numbness of never letting anyone in?

In a fight, you got to know that there's a strong chance you're going to get hurt. But at the same time, you know, most of the injuries you sustain in fighting are not career-ending injuries.

It would have hurt no matter who took you the first time.

If you've been hurt and you've grieved and you've been through the mill, it takes a long time to get over it.

Words can break someone into a million pieces, but they can also put them back together

It is easier to tell a story of how people wound one another than of what binds them together.

Despair, he remembered now from an earlier occasion, could hurt as keenly as an open knife wound.

She could feel the old pain and despised herself for allowing it still to hurt. But how she had loved him!

And while she had held him and opened to him and called his name, because he was Marius and the man she loved, he had merely been using her as almost any man would use a woman who was so obviously available.

She had felt only angry until this moment—blindly, furiously angry. But now she felt unaccountably hurt too, and empty, and bereft.

He had known that memories would be stirred if he saw her again. He had known, surely, that somehow he would be hurt by them.

He had to force himself not to pull her into his arms to comfort her. Damn it, he had hurt her when he had meant only to tease. And he was uncomfortable with feelings of compassion.

She had known that he could be cruel, that he was basically heartless, but she had never had face-to-face proof of the fact before. The voice and the facial expression that she had witnessed during that walk . . . had made him a stranger to her. She had never seen him cold, sneering, sarcastic before. He had behaved as if he hated her. But why? She was the one who had been wronged, hurt almost beyond bearing six years before. Was it conscience that had made him turn upon her with such contempt?

Las mentiras solo acarreaban sufrimiento.

I think about the story of Job I heard in Carol Sharp's Sunday school. How he sort of learned to lean into feeling hurt at the end, the way you might lean into a heavy wind that almost winds up supporting you after a while.

When you've been hurt enough as a kid (maybe at any age), it's like you have a trick knee. Most of your life, you can function like an adult, but add in the right portions of sleeplessness and stress and grief, and the hurt, defeated self can bloom into place.

I think about the story of Job I heard in Carol Sharp's Sunday school. How he sort of learned to lean into feeling hurt at the end, the way you might lean into a heavy wind that almost winds up supporting you after a while. People can get behind pain that way, if they think it derives from powers larger than themselves.

Life is about love. It's about whom you love and whom you hurt. Life's about how you love yourself and how you hurt yourself. Life's about how you love and hurt the people close to you. Life is about how you love and hurt the people who just cross your path for a moment. Life is about love.