Quotes About Suffering

A victim soul is a pious individual chosen to absorb the pain and suffering of others.

mi crollò in grembo, costringendomi a tenerlo tra le braccia mentre piangeva, squassato da spasmi e singhiozzi, come se fosse letteralmente straziato e squartato dal dolore, eppure in silenzio, senza un grido, senza un gemito, quasi che gli fosse stato insegnato a non attirare troppo l'attenzione sulla propria sofferenza. Se fai troppo rumore, vengono a cercarti per scoprire perché piangi.

There is some comfort in killing that which has hurt you, but it is cold comfort. It'll destroy things inside of you that the original pain wouldn't have harmed. Sometimes it's not a question of whether a piece of your soul is going to go missing, only which piece it's going to be.

I was still left with having to peel the tape off my arm, and the IV itself had to come out, mustn't forget that. "If you want it fast, I'll do it," Edward said. I nodded, and he ripped the tape off my arm along with the IV. "Ow!" He smiled. "Sissy." "Sociopath." Doctor

Love sucks. Sometimes it feels good. Sometimes it's just another way to bleed.

A hundred years later and someone gazes upon you as if you were heaven itself, but you know in your heart of hearts that it's not heaven you're offering them, it's hell.

If what I felt had been an actual wound, I'd have been bleeding to death.

the cross-shaped burn scar

Some truths don't make you feel better. Some truths just hurt more." No one argued with him; we'd all been around violence and death too long to argue with something that true.

Even in your closest friendships, you're alone. Maybe it's your best friend who, in fact, reminds you, just by making it her business to try to know your heart, that no one can - that our fate is to suffer in isolation and then die. But it's our collective fate! So I guess I'm an optimist.

Years later, admiring his dark-haired daughter, the light of his life, in the city he wouldn't have been able to find on a map back when he lived in Germany, he understood that even pain could bring joy. It wasn't a trade-off, and it didn't give him comfort; it was just something true.

Michel and Annette Muller's mother, snatched from her children at Beaune-la-Rolande, died at Auschwitz. And while it was the Nazis who wished her dead, it was the French who put her in harm's way.

Japanese soldiers split open the stomachs of pregnant women and bayoneted the fetuses; they tied up local farmers and used them for target practice; they tortured thousands of innocent people in ways that rival the Gestapo at its worst; and they were pursuing deadly medical experiments long before Dr. Mengele and Auschwitz.

It had ever, as I told the reader, been one of the singular blessings of my life, to be almost every hour of it miserably in love with some one....

So that whether the pain of a wound in the groin (cæteris paribus) is greater than the pain of a wound in the knee—or Whether the pain of a wound in the knee is not greater than the pain of a wound in the groin—are points which to this day remain unsettled.

condenada suerte, se dijo mordiéndose el labio inferior mientras cerraba la puerta tras de, sí,——la de un hombre que ha ideado una de las mejores cadenas de razonamiento del mundo—y tiene al mismo tiempo una mujer con una cabeza tan dura que es imposible hacer entrar en ella una sola inferencia, aunque la salvación o destrucción de su propia alma esté en juego!

Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack, all dressed in black, black, black. She has a knife, knife, knife, stuck in her back, back, back. She cannot breathe, breathe, breathe. She cannot cry, cry, cry. Thats why she begs, begs, begs. She begs to die, die ,die..

The stuffing/puking/stuffing/puking/stuffing/puking didn't make her skinny, it made her cry.

I wish I had cancer. I will burn in hell for that, but it's true.

Puke and starve and cut and drink because you don't want to feel any of this. Puke and starve and cut and drink because you need an anesthetic and it works. For awhile. But then the anesthetic turns into poison and by then it's to late because you are maintaining it now,straight into your soul. It is rotting you and you can't stop.

My head is killing me, my throat is killing me, my stomach bubbles with toxic waste. I just want to sleep. A coma would be nice. Or amnesia. Anything, just to get rid if this, these thoughts, whispers in my mind.

I kissed him until everything that hurt inside me melted into a pool of black water so deep I couldn't touch the bottom. As long as I was touching him, I wouldn't drown.

Look at the stupid, poor people. Look at the stupid, poor, burned-out people. Look at the stupid, poor, burned-out people, look at their dead baby. It's death porn for the masses.

If that was life, then it was twisted.