Quotes About Suffering

The Nazis asked carefully about when precisely people stopped helping one another in the streets, about how many people were being arrested for cannibalism.

Never rely on a husband for your happiness. The government persecute men, then men persecute their wives in return. And what do the wives do? If they have a child, they slap it to let off steam. If not, they drown themselves or swallow bottles of pesticide.

Don't let me return as a woman in my next life! I'd rather be a dog or a rat than suffer this pain again!

When the people around you have lost their will to be free, then earth becomes a hell.

Si a literatura musical brasileira fosse vasta, eu não publicaria este livro. Porém muitas vezes tenho sofrido nos olhos dos meus discípulos a angústia dos que desejam ler. Si por um momento eu lhes minorar essa angústia, este livro terá cumprido o seu destino, pois foi isso unicamente o que pretendi.

Zo is god, de god van de Heidelbergse Catechismus, de god die mensen zo intens haat dat hij keelkanker voor ze heeft uitgevonden. Zelfs mensen zijn niet in staat elkaar op zo'n laaghartige wijze te vermoorden als god kan met behulp van deze ziekte. Ook al huil ik [..] toch ben ik blij dat ik twee van zijn dienstknechten heb kunnen aftuigen.

We all have an eraser incorporated within us, a delete key, but we forget how to use it. Ho'oponopono helps us to remember the power that we have to choose between erasing (letting go) or reacting, being happy or suffering. It is only a matter of choice in every moment of our lives.

Religion has caused more misery to all of mankind in every stage of human history than any other single idea.

In April 1945, immediately before surrendering the construction site, the Germans locked 1,046 of the workers into a barn and burned them alive.

And yet throughout the world, past and present, for thousands of years, those whom we call good men, righteous men, have been accustomed to the sight of such things, have sat and looked and considered them to be matters of course, have not demanded justice for the victims or offered to help them. This is the most appalling, unjust, and unequal thing, the most inexplicable theory under heaven.

He kisses her, and she knows, somehow, that he is asking for help, for an end to the sadness they are causing one another. Asking because, after all these years together, it is the only thing that might save them.

What was misfortune but the quality of existing as something, or someone else, inside?

Every moment mortals died, by shipwreck and sword, by wild beasts and wild men, by illness, neglect, and age. It was their fate, Prometheus had told me, the story they all shared. No matter how vivid they were in life, no matter how brilliant, no matter the wonders they made, they came to dust and smoke. Meanwhile every petty and useless god would go on sucking down the bright air until the stars went dark.

I would look at him and feel a love so sharp it seemed my flesh lay open. I made a list of all the things I would do for him. Scald off my skin. Tear out my eyes. Walk my feet to bones, if only he would be happy and well.

She was a goddess of torment and understood the eloquence of violence.

To be utterly alone. What worse punishment could there be…

I lay on the dirt, weeping. Those flowers had made him his true being, which was blue, and finned, and not mine. I thought I would die of such pain, which was not like the sinking numbness Aeëtes had left behind, but sharp and fierce as a blade through my chest. But of course I could not die. I would live on, through each scalding moment to the next. This is the grief that makes our kind choose to be stones and trees rather than flesh.

I felt as if I was dying just to think of it; plummeting through a blind, black sky

He became the terrible craving, he became the thing he was doing, he became the itch, the bite, the sting, the torment, the horror, he became the loathing that refused to stop doing what it loathed to do. He became the shapeless mouth that—

If no one were allowed to be thrilled by anything, as long as someone is made wretched by something, the life of the whole planet would perish!

1] God have mercy on the sinner Who must write with no dinner, No gravy and no grub, No pewter and no pub, No bellyand no bowels, Only consonants and vowels. 2] But we moderns are impatient and destructive 3] And how can poetry stand up against its new conditions? Its position is perfectly precarious. 4] In all the good Greek of Plato I lack my roastbeef and potato. A better man was Aristotle, Pulling steady on the bottle.

There had been a slight flavor of childishness in her outbursts, a little of petulance, but it was mostly a mature woman in that special area of pain reserved, in irony, for those who know how to give.

Soon we will all eat stones.

Ter que pagar pelos próprios sonhos deve ser o pior dos desesperos.