Quotes About Suffering

JeÅ›li dobrze rozumiem - powiedziaÅ' - mam stan?? do pojedynku, bo je?eli odmówiÄ™, to mnie powieszÄ…. JeÅ›li bÄ™dÄ™ walczyÅ', to mam pozwoli?, by przeciwnik mnie okaleczyÅ', bo jeÅ›li ja go zraniÄ™, to mnie poÅ'amiÄ… koÅ'em. Same radosne alternatywy. A mo?e zaoszczÄ™dzi? wam kÅ'opotów? HuknÄ™ gÅ'owÄ… o pieÅ" sosny i sam siÄ™ obezwÅ'adniÄ™.

The blades were positioned at an angle–and as they entered his body, the arrow rotated and bored in like a screw, mutilating the tissue, cutting through blood vessels and shattering bone. Aplegatt lurched forward onto his horse's neck and slid to the ground, limp as a sack of wool. The sand on the road was hot, heated up so much by the sun that it was painful to the touch. The messenger didn't feel it. He died at once.

No, Chireadan,' he answered. 'I wouldn't disagree. Thank you for the warning. But this only concerns Dandilion. He suffered at my side, in my presence. I didn't manage to save him and I couldn't help him. I'd sit on a scorpion with my bare backside if I knew it would help him.

Love,' Fringilla said slowly, 'is like renal colic. Until you have an attack, you can't even imagine what it's like. And when people tell you about it you don't believe them.

Nessuno vuole soffrire. Eppure è il destino di ognuno. E alcuni soffrono più degli altri. Non necessariamente per scelta. La questione non sta nel sopportare il dolore. La questione sta nel come lo si sopporta

Love,' Fringilla said slowly, 'is like renal colic. Until you have an attack, you can't even imagine what it's like. And when people tell you about it you don't believe them.

every dream, if dreamed too long, turns into a nightmare. And we awake from such dreams screaming.

Non capisco perché non te ne vai, se stai così male con me." "Non voglio stare sola." "È tutto?" "È molto.

Listen: two years ago peasants from some godforsaken

Violence breeds violence. Hatred has grown into hearts… and has poisoned kindred blood…" "What?" Olsen grimaced. "Use a human language!" "Hard times are upon us." "So

For a man can bear a great deal, but a horse less. However, when it's time to get back in the saddle after resting, it's as though your arse were shouting, "Help! Murder!

The night around them was also alive with the intermittent cries and groans of the wounded. The pleading and sighs of the dying. They didn't hear it. They had become accustomed to the sounds of suffering and dying, and those sounds were ordinary, natural to them, as integrated into the night as the croaking of frogs in the marshes by the River Chotla or the singing of cicadas in the acacia trees by Golden Pond.

It's not so ordinary, Yurga. I've been left… in similar situations… Like a dog…

No one wants to suffer. But yet it is our lot. And some suffer more. Not necessarily by choice. The point is not the bearing of suffering. The point is how it is borne.

?ycie albo ?mier?, chcecie zdycha?, to zdychajcie.

To disengage from the profound needs of those caught in suffering is to reject the call to bear the image of God.

Where has his humanity gone? His compassion? Ha. Pissed away in shell holes, that's where.

Our faith is anchored to a miscarriage of justice. The worst possible thing happened to the best possible person.

Much of what is being taught is the acceptance of a "kinder, gentler suffering" that does not question the unwholesome roots of systemic suffering and the structures that hold it in place. What is required is a new Dharma, a radical Dharma that deconstructs rather than amplifies the systems of suffering, that starves rather than fertilizes the soil of the conditions that the deep roots of societal suffering grow in.

I clung to him as though only the one who had inflicted the pain could comfort me for suffering it.

How can she bear the pain of becoming human? The end of exile is the end of being.

The heart's egoism sees itself suffering when it sees another suffering and so it learns sympathy, because it can put itself into another's place; then the heart comes a little way out of its egoism and tentatively encounters the world. But, before the prospect of its own suffering, the heart melts completely and retreats into egoism, again, to protect itself.

But there is no mysterious virtue in Justine's suffering. The martyrdom of this Christ-figure is absolutely useless; she is a gratuitous victim. And if there is no virtue in her suffering, then there is none, it turns out, in her virtue itself; it does nobody any good, least of all herself.

Justine is a good woman in a man's world. She is a good woman according to the rules for women laid down by men and her reward is rape, humiliation and incessant beatings. Her life is that of a woman martyrised by the circumstances of her life as a woman.