Quotes About Suffering

I hardly recognize you. Where's the gown and the jewellery, little sister? Where are the conch you always carried around? Where's your hair?' Desiderio asked. 'Gone, Des. It's gone. Everything's gone. Cerulea. The palace. Mum and Dad-' Her voice broke.

Their crops and possessions are being taken to build fortresses and buy warships so that a heartless queen and a false prince can attack realms that have not attacked us.

A girl who understood that a queen's heart was made to break. Over and over again. And Sophie knew that hers would, too. When crops failed and people starved. When plague descended. When war swept its red cloak over the land.

Cry your grief to God. Howl to the heavens. Tear your shirt. Your hair. Your flesh. Gouge out your eyes. Carve out your heart. And what will you get from Him? Only silence. Indifference. But merely stand looking at the playbills, sighing because your name is not on them, and the devil himself appears at your elbow full of sympathy and suggestions. And that's why I did it....Because God loves us, but the devil takes an interest.

At first I thought he was having a stroke or a heart attack, but then I realized I was seeing pure misery, the kind people only show when they think they're by themselves.

Drug addiction and alcoholism, depression and anxiety, accidental pregnancy and sexually transmitted disease. These conditions are believed to share a common etiology, the failure of virtue. Whatever their diagnosis, all Wellways patients have this in common: their troubles are seen to be, in part or in full, their own goddam fault.

My people are crumbling and dying and starving, and you're blessing blessed people and serving the saved.

Job moans that it is wanton cruelty that suffering people, brutalized or in mourning, should have to relive their horrors in dreams. In fact, why should any of us, in seeking rest, be met with nightmares?

There is nothing, my boy, to spark compassion like a sojourn in hell.

There is nothing, my boy, to spark compassion like a sojourn in hell." In

Everything hurts." Only Grayson Hawthorne could say that and still sound utterly bulletproof. "It hurts all the time, Avery, but I know the man I was raised to be.

Caroline: 'You know Sora. I don't. It will hurt you. It won't hurt me. Nothing hurts me.' Lake: 'Liar. Just breathing hurts you so bad, you want to beat the snot out of something.

Ouch!" The manicurist who'd just relieved me of part of my cuticle submerged my feet in bubbling water. Hot water. "Oh, hush," Lily said. "It feels good. Beauty is pain." "Pain," I gritted out, "is also pain.

She loved him. It hurt to love him, and she loved him anyway.He left her, and she loved him anyway.

When did I become the enemy here? I have only ever done what the old man wanted me to do." She spoke like those words were being physically torn out of her. "Do you have any idea what that's cost me?

It was never just the idea of you, Avery." I tried not to feel like the ground was suddenly moving underneath my feet. "You hated the idea of me." "But not you." The words were just as sweet, just as painful. "Never you.

Without order, there is chaos. Without order, there is pain. The wheel turns. Lives are forfeit. Seven masters. Seven ways of killing.

Where are you going?" I asked him. [...] "To hell, eventually," Jameson answered. "Probably the wine cellar, for now.

The cadence of suffering has begun - Cesare Pavese I am in pieces.

There are different ways to die. There's jumping off a roof and there's slowly poisoning yourself with the flesh of another every single day.

The fact is, I was sick, but not in an easily explained flu kind of way. It's my experience that people are a lot more sympathetic if they can see you hurting, and for the millionth time in my life I wish for measles or smallpox or some other recognizable disease just to make it simple for me and also for them. Anything would be better than the truth.

FINCH : Day 75 "The cadence of suffering has begun."-Cesare Pavese I am in pieces.

The thing I don't say is: I want to stay alive. the reason I don't say it is because, given that fat folder in front of him, he'd never believe it. And here's something else he'd never believe--I'm fighting to be here in this [crappy], messed-up world. Standing on the ledge of the bell tower isn't about dying. It's about having control. It's about never going to sleep again.

Because after suffering a loss, you become a ghost in your own body. You observe yourself doing things and saying things that you might not normally do or say. You need something to ground you and prove to you that you're still here. As a way of feeling something. Anything.