Quotes About Suffering

3 Si Dios es real, el dolor no existe. 4 Mas si el dolor es real, entonces es Dios Quien no existe.

El dolor es señal de que las ilusiones reinan en lugar de la verdad.

el dolor es una ilusión; el júbilo es real. 4 El dolor es dormir; el júbilo, despertar. 5 El dolor es un engaño, y sólo el júbilo es verdad.

The slumber of the "I" is at the root of most suffering.

Tell me how much you know of the sufferings of your fellow man and I will tell you how much you have loved them.

The stories I create are never as awful as reality.

To me the ideal doctor would be a man endowed with profound knowledge of life and of the soul, intuitively divining any suffering or disorder of whatever kind, and restoring peace by his mere presence.

We are in a great night of the world. The thing is to know if we shall wake up to-morrow. We have only one succor we know of what the night is made. But shall we be able to impart our lucid faith, seeing that the heralds of warning are everywhere few, and that the greatest victims hate the only ideal which is not one, and call it utopian?

Human suffering is a positive thing, which requires a positive answer, and sad as it is, the word is beautiful, because of the absolute truth it contains.[...] It is an error to believe that we can be happy in perfect calm and clearness, as abstract as a formula. We are made too much out of shadow and some form of suffering. If everything that hurts us were to be removed, what would remain?

All these men with their corpse-like faces, in front of us and behind, driven to exhaustion, emptied of words and will....All these men laden with earth, who, you could say, are carrying their own graves...

Nous serons reconnus par les grandes douleurs.

Hélas, ô sacrifice, ô gloire, Ô silence qui va saigner.

To cease to love is worse than to hate, for say what you will, death is worse than suffering. I am crying because one is alone.

Estamos crucificados; no como Dios, que lo fue en carne sobre una cruz, sino que estamos crucificados sobre el tiempo y el espacio.

It was suicide. Others killed themselves with poison or with a revolver. I killed myself with minutes and hours.

The woman from the depths of her rags, a waif, a martyr — smiled. She must have a divine heart to be so tired and yet smile.

Compassion asks us to go where it hurts, to enter into the places of pain, to share in brokenness, fear, confusion, and anguish. Compassion challenges us to cry out with those in misery, to mourn with those who are lonely, to weep with those in tears. Compassion requires us to be weak with the weak, vulnerable with the vulnerable, and powerless with the powerless. Compassion means full immersion in the condition of being human.

Let us not underestimate how hard it is to be compassionate. Compassion is hard because it requires the inner disposition to go with others to place where they are weak, vulnerable, lonely, and broken. But this is not our spontaneous response to suffering. What we desire most is to do away with suffering by fleeing from it or finding a quick cure for it.

I didn't expect to recover from my second operation but since I did, I consider that I'm living on borrowed time. Every day that dawns is a gift to me and I take it in that way. I accept it gratefully without looking beyond it. I completely forget my physical suffering and all the unpleasantness of my present condition and I think only of the joy of seeing the sun rise once more and of being able to work a little bit, even under difficult conditions.

To shun one's cross is to make it heavier.

You say that love is nonsense....I tell you it is no such thing. For weeks and months it is a steady physical pain, an ache about the heart, never leaving one, by night or by day a long strain on one's nerves like toothache or rheumatism, not intolerable at any one instant, but exhausting by its steady drain on the strength.

You say that love is nonsense.... I tell you it is no such thing. For weeks and months it is a steady physical pain, an ache about the heart, never leaving one, by night or by day; a long strain on one's nerves like toothache or rheumatism, not intolerable at any one instant, but exhausting by its steady drain on the strength.

Y he ahí que en un momento supremo, de los labios del Dios hecho hombre, ascenderá este grito desesperado: «Dios mío, Dios mío, ¿por qué me has abandonado?». Como si Dios hecho hombre debiese experimentar la desesperación otrora infligida por sí mismo a su siervo Job.

People lead lives of quiet desperation.