Quotes About Suffering

I will not always be happy, but perhaps, if I'm lucky, I will be spared the agony of adding pain to the world.

No seré feliz siempre pero, tal vez, si tengo suerte, no sufriré la angustia de añadir dolor al mundo.

Mam) ignorant as a thistle, married to a drunk and pushing out baby after baby, each of which had to be clothed and fed until it grew up and left, or died.

Stavo morendo per la perdita e l'abbandono, sempre di più ogni giorno che passava.

Why did you bother creating me, he wanted to ask. Why bother giving me a brain and a realization of how miserable existence can be? Why did you invent creatures who die, and worse, who know they are going to die? What is the point of so unkind an act of creation?

Everyone simply had to wait patiently in order to lose the people they loved one by one, all the while acting as if they weren't waiting for that at all.

And the family that seemed so perfect began to suffer through small and then large tragedies—a wayward sister gone more wayward, the parents' separation and then divorce, and, most terrible of all, the death of Meg's older brother in a boating accident. There's something so intense about these relationships we have with other families during our formative years, and that's one of the main things I wanted to explore in The End of Everything.

We get a fat-slicked chocolate chip muffin, which we heat up in the rotating toaster machine. Standing next to it, the heat radiating off its coils, I imagine myself suffering eternal damnation for sins not yet clear.

She had done this thing to me, burdened me with this vile, howling thing. And now it shuddered in me always and I'd felt I might have to live with it forever. I was right.

Reproductive hormones and serotonin, stress hormones and neurotransmitters. The whole rickety biological pathophysiology of our women. The PMDD women, maybe all women. She sees the dangerous relays in the suffering body. She understands the mad pulses of the blood.

Mama had never said anything of her family having such wealth, not once, in all our years of suffering. But then again, neither had she told me she had a sister. I should not be surprised. She'd kept so many secrets. But this . . . Why had she said nothing of this?

It was all terrifyingly close and painfully hollow, the prison that neither I nor my mother had ever seen in the life she'd chosen for me.

Some people live their entire life and never once feel how I felt every time he looked at me. So yes, this hurts. And yes, I feel as if I might die. But I won't. And somehow, I find a way to let it all go...just let it go. No regrets. No grief. It will always hurt a little, down deep in that secret place, but it's become a pain I can handle. Besides, if it didn't always hurt, just a little, it wouldn't mean as much.

When you love someone, seeing them in pain can be harder than being in pain yourself.

There is nothing crueler than the person who doesn't want you enough to keep you, but who doesn't love you enough to let you go.

It kind of makes me wish that the worst thing that will ever happen to me would just hurry up and happen already. That way I could live the rest of my life in bliss, if only because I know how much worse things could be.

It is unbelievable the amount of hate the human body can sustain before it begins to break.

When the range and depth of the suffering of others and what we do to one another no longer bothers us, nor moves us to remedy the situation and stop the pain, then we have lost a part of our own humanity, our own soul.

There will be glimpses of hope, shards of refracted light at the Cross when Jesus is crucified, but on the way there is very little. Sobering, yet truthful. We are reminded that others who have sought hope and freedom have had to endure without much to go on, too.

The essence of a mature human being in religious terms is the ability to see, to be aware of others' suffering and to be touched by it.

Each confrontation between Jesus and another person or group reveals what we do to each other, personally and on a public level. Each is an indictment against Christians, followers of the man crucified, the suffering servant, the Lamb of God.

After all, a terrible anxiety attends chronic illness. Over time, it becomes difficult to untangle the suffering from symptoms like pain from the suffering inflicted by the anxiety over the possibility of more pain, and worse outcomes, in the future. This does not mean that the illness is in the mind; rather, the mind—that machine for making meaning—makes endless meanings of its new state, which may themselves influence the experience.

It is unbearable—and yet I bear it.

Onlookers often respond to the experience of chronically ill people by focusing on the supposed positives, presumably because it makes the pain of witness bearable.