Quotes About Suffering

We were at the home base of the holy man who encouraged presidents to drop bombs on poor Cockroaches in far-off villages in Vietnam

The common man wants nothing of life but health, longevity, amusement, comfort -- happiness. He who does not despise this should turn his eyes from world history, for it contains nothing of the sort. The best that history has created is great suffering.

We believe slowly when belief brings pain.

And now, as she died for the second time, she never complained that her husband had failed her - what could she complain of, except that he'd loved her?

Quem põe ponto final numa paixão com o ódio, ou ainda ama, ou não consegue deixar de sofrer.

Desgraciado de mí! El niño tiene flechas certeras. Yo me abraso, y el Amor reina en mi corazón deshabitado.

I have no language to paint the horrors of our situation. To shed tears was indeed altogether unavailing and withal unmanly yet I was not able to deny myself the relief they served to afford me.

It seemed to us as if fate was wholly relentless, in pursuing us with such a cruel complication of disasters.

Hell couldn't be all bad if it had jewelry.

Apollo's handsome face twisted as another white-hot wave of pain pulsed up his arm. "It doesn't hurt like hell. It hurts like bloody buggering hell.

He groaned slightly and winced like Prometheus watching his vulture dropping in for lunch.

Schopenhauer says that all the suffering in the world can't be mere chance. Must be meant. He says life's a mixture of suffering and boredom. You've

If nothing saves us from death, at least love should save us from life

Give me, for my life, all lives, give me all the pain of everyone, I'm going to turn it into hope. Give me all the joys, even the most secret, because otherwise how will these things be known? I have to tell them, give me the labors of everyday, for that's what I sing.

How you must have suffered getting accustomed to me, my savage, solitary soul, my name that sends them all running. So many times we have seen the morning star burn, kissing our eyes, and over our heads the grey light unwinds in turning fans.

Sufre mas el que espera siempre que aquel que nunca espero a nadie? Does he who is always waiting suffer more than he who's never waited for anyone?

Si nada nos salva de la muerte, al menos que el amor nos salve de la vida.

He who has nothing—it has been said many times—has nothing to lose but his chains.

A bibliophile of little means is likely to suffer often. Books don't slip from his hands but fly past him through the air, high as birds, high as prices.

And I watch my words from a long way off. They are more yours than mine. They climb on my old suffering like ivy. It climbs the same way on damp walls. You are to blame for this cruel sport. They are fleeing from my dark lair. You fill everything, you fill everything. Before you they peopled the solitude that you occupy, and they are more used to my sadness than you are. Now I want them to say what I want to say to you to make you hear as I want you to hear me.

My duty moves along with my song: I am I am not: that is my destiny. I exist not if I do not attend to the pain of those who suffer: they are my pains. For I cannot be without existing for all, for all who are silent and oppressed, I come from the people and I sing for them: my poetry is song and punnishment.

And I watch my words from a long way off.. They are more YOURS than mine.. They climb on my old suffering like ivy...

And tell me everything, tell chain by chain, and link by link, and step by step; sharpen the knives you kept hidden away, thrust them into my breast, into my hands, like a torrent of sunbursts, an Amazon of buried jaguars, and leave me cry: hours, days and years, blind ages, stellar centuries.

Love brought its tail of pains, its long static beam of thorns, and we close our eyes so that nothing, so that no wound will separate us.