Quotes About Suffering

But finally, into the world came a baby girl, just as, I'm very, very sorry to say, her mother, and my sister, slipped away from the world after a long night of suffering—but also a night of joy, as the birth of a baby is always good news, no matter how much bad news the baby will hear later.

In this way, the story of the Baudelaire orphans is like an onion, and if you insist on reading each and every thin, papery layer in A Series of Unfortunate Events, your only reward will be 170 chapters of misery in your library and countless tears in your eyes.

I hurt, therefore I am.

It's amazing how low you go to get high.

Christ, you know it ain't easy You know how hard it can be. The way things are going, they're going to crucify me.

To try is to risk failure. But risk must be taken because the greatest hazard of life is to risk nothing. The person who risks nothing does nothing, has nothing, is nothing. He may avoid suffering and sorrow, but he simply cannot learn, feel, change, grow, live, and love.

The person who risks nothing, does nothing, has nothing, is nothing, and becomes nothing. He may avoid suffering and sorrow, but he simply cannot learn and feel and change and grow and love and live.

The person who risks nothing, does nothing, has nothing, is nothing, and becomes nothing. He may avoid suffering and sorrow, but he simply cannot learn, feel, change, grow or love. Chained by his certitude, he is a slave; he has forfeited his freedom. Only the person who risks is truly free.

The person who risk nothing, does nothing, has nothing, is nothing. He may avoid suffering and sorrow, but he simply cannot learn and feel and change and grow and love and live.

Ba?kan Roosevelt'in 11 Ocak 1944 günü Kongreye sundu?u mesaj?nda belirtti?i gibi "ihtiyaçlar?n pençesinde k?vranan bir insan, özgür insan de?ildir

Man survives earthquakes, epidemics, the horrors of disease, and all the agonies of the soul, but for all time his most tormenting tragedy has been, is, and will be—the tragedy of the bedroom.

Svaki pogled njenih o?iju, svaku re? iz njenih usta želim da imam samo za sebe. To što ne mogu da se odvojim od nje, to što ne mogu da ustanem i zauvek završim s time! To boli, to gori u meni!" "Ali demonima pakla je data sva mo?, nastupio je dan, poslednji dan, sudnji dan, sotona trijumfuje nad grešnom dušom, i jadikuju?i ljudski glas se ruši sa visine i tone u Judinom smehu o?ajanja.

Det var djävulen som hade befolkat jorden med kungar i syfte att pina vanligt folk.

The twelfth-century poet Abraham ibn Ezra, whom you encountered in high school as Browning's Rabbi ben Ezra (may his tribe increase), limpidly described the shlimazl's lot when he wrote: If I sold lamps, The sun, In spite, Would shine at night.

tous les bonheurs se ressemblent, mais chaque infortune a sa physionomie particulière.

The greater the state, the more wrong and cruel its patriotism, and the greater is the sum of suffering upon which its power is founded.

As long as there are slaughterhouses, there will be battlefields.

Man cannot possess anything as long as he fears death. But to him who does not fear it, everything belongs. If there was no suffering, man would not know his limits, would not know himself.

How can one be well...when one suffers morally?

They say: sufferings are misfortunes," said Pierre. 'But if at once this minute, I was asked, would I remain what I was before I was taken prisoner, or go through it all again, I should say, for God's sake let me rather be a prisoner and eat horseflesh again. We imagine that as soon as we are torn out of our habitual path all is over, but it is only the beginning of something new and good. As long as there is life, there is happiness. There is a great deal, a great deal before us.

Doctoring her seemed to her as absurd as putting together the pieces of a broken vase. Her heart was broken. Why would they try to cure her with pills and powders?

As long as there are slaughter houses there will always be battlefields.

Morning or night, Friday or Sunday, made no difference, everything was the same: the gnawing, excruciating, incessant pain; that awareness of life irrevocably passing but not yet gone; that dreadful, loathsome death, the only reality, relentlessly closing in on him; and that same endless lie. What did days, weeks, or hours matter?

And those who only know the non-platonic love have no need to talk of tragedy. In such love there can be no sort of tragedy.