Quotes About Suffering

Es ist so eingerichtet, daß nicht nur die, die Unrecht erdulden müssen, auch die, die Unrecht tun, ihres Lebens nicht froh werden. Überhaupt frage ich mich, ob die Lust, andere Leben zu zerstören, nicht daher kommt, daß man am eigenen Leben so wenig Lust und Freude hat.

Ich habe nicht gewußt, was ein Mensch erträgt. Nun sitze ich da und muß mir sagen, auf dieser Fähigkeit, Unerträgliches zu ertragen und weiterzuleben, weiter zu tun, was zu tun man gewöhnt ist, auf dieser unheimlichen Fähigkeit beruht der Bestand des Menschengeschlechts.

Suffering isn't ennobling, recovery is.

the exponential pace of human expansion may be about to flatten into a logistic curve, with the limit being set by the finite dimension and resources of planet Earth. This enforced flattening, if it occurs naturally, is bound to be achieved at the cost of enormous human suffering through famine, deprivation, disease, environmental assaults, and internal strife.

Throughout my many years of illness, I have never ... to ask[ed] God why He allowed me to suffer so long, I only ask what He wants me to do.

We don't even know that we're dealing with one of these masters of Darkness until we become physically ill, lose our friends, our jobs, our incomes, our fertile years, and eventually even our self-esteem and dignity.

We rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope . . . For this light momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison . . .

It's the quiet ones who suffer most.

you can be pinpricked to death,' said Marta. 'I think the Chinese have a torture along those lines.

the pain of the constant, bone-chilling loneliness she'd accustomed herself to. And learned to live with it.

MONDAY IN HOLY WEEK "The Voice of my Beloved." Once I ached for thy dear sake: Wilt thou cause Me now to ache? Once I bled for thee in pain: Wilt thou rend My Heart again? Crown of thorns and shameful tree, Bitter death I bore for thee, Bore My Cross to carry thee, And wilt thou have nought of Me?

she is never more herself than when she destroys herself.

She would never again try to knit even one stitch in the long chain of their married life. She hated all that was to come.

You were breaking my bones and spirit and forcing your beastly love on me: a brute, a savage, a wild Indian wouldn't do what you did, slobbering round me and calling it love and filling me with children month after month and year after year while I hated and detested you and screamed in your ears to get away from me, but you wouldn't let me go.

the world would not let him rave, this was the great injustice he suffered from: he stalked up and down being angry, in futility;

I bet I live till ninety, with all my aches and pains. To think that's fifty more years of the Great I-Am. No wonder I want to make away with myself. Who wouldn't?

Therapists hear horrifying stories of child abuse that never make the headlines. The media seem drawn to stories about children who die, as if the suffering of those who survive is any less terrifying.

There is nothing to fear on earth but sin. Prison and death are nothing compared to a guilty conscience. If we are destined to suffer unjustly, if all the world forsake us, God will not. Whatever happens, then, let us put our trust in God.

Recuerdo haber visto, en imágenes de archivo, a cerdos paseándose por la Biblioteca Nacional de Phnom Penh, vaciada por los jemeres rojos. Derribaban sillas y pisoteaban mondaduras. Los cerdos sustituían a los libros. Y nosotros sustituíamos a los cerdos.

Christianity's such a weird religion. The image you're brought up with is that eternal suffering awaits anyone who questions God's infinite love. Bill Hicks

The notorious bark Libertad, which carried 560 passengers (although its legal limit was 297) lost 100 passengers on one run from China to San Francisco. Its passengers died of thirst—they had no water for the last week of the voyage—and the Libertad is frequently described by chroniclers of the passage from China as a "floating hell.

What social justice requires, King assumes, cannot be discerned in the abstract from the safe distance of a policy analyst or an academic theorist. It can only be found by looking at the actual, embodied suffering of the victims of oppression and injustice, and questioning the structural arrangements that perpetuate their suffering.

As it is, the town is hell's delight.

If only inflicted pain could be as contagious As a plague, you might use it more sparingly.