Quotes About Suffering

I do not believe that sheer suffering teaches. If suffering alone taught, all the world would be wise, since everyone suffers. To suffering must be added mourning, understanding, patience, love, openness, and the willingness to remain vulnerable.

In working with the wounded at Gallipoli, the lead character comments, "Perhaps life was the nightmare and death the awakening.

You speak like a heroine,' said Montoni, contemptuously; 'we shall see whether you can suffer like one.

You do have a story inside you; it lies articulate and waiting to be written — behind your silence and your suffering.

In the very depths of Hell, do not demons love one another?

It's an awful truth that suffering can deepen us, give a greater lustre to our colours, a richer resonance to our words.

Like all strong people, she suffered always a measure of loneliness; she was a marginal outsider, a secret infidel of a certain sort.

Oh Lestat, you deserved everything that's ever happened to you. You better not die. You might actually go to hell.

No matter how long we exist, we have our memories. Points in time which time itself cannot erase. Suffering may distort my backward glances, but even to suffering, some memories will yield nothing of ther beauty or their splendor. Rather they remain as hard as gems.

Though they washed her with wineand rubbed her with butterit was to no avail.She lay as still as a gold piece.

God went out of me as if the sea dried up like sandpaper, as if the sun became a latrine. God went out of my fingers. They became stone. My body became a side of mutton and despair roamed the slaughterhouse.

I planned to suffer and I cannot.

I'm in pain because the day is ending and somehow I am never healing.

If someone burns out your eye I will take your socket and use it for an ashtray.

Each night I am nailed into place and forget who I am. Daddy? That's another kind of prison. It's not the prince at all, but my father drunkeningly bends over my bed, circling the abyss like a shark, my father thick upon me like some sleeping jellyfish. What voyage is this, little girl? This coming out of prison? God help - this life after death?

She suffers according to the digits of my hate. I hear the filaments of alabaster. I would lie down with them and lift my madness off like a wig. I would lie outside in a room of wool and let the snow cover me. Paris white or flake white or argentine, all in the washbasin of my mouth, calling "Oh." I am empty. I am witless. Death is here. There is no other settlement.

I suffer for birds and fireflies but not frogs, she said, and threw him across the room. Kaboom! Like a genie out of a samovar, a handsome prince arose in the corner of the bedroom.

Pain engraves a deeper memory.

The trouble is that I am crazy and the room, ah, my own room drinks me.

For all you who are going, and there are many who are climbing their pain, many who will be painted out with a black ink suddenly and before it is time, for these many I say, awkwardly, clumsily, take off your life like trousers, your shoes, your underwear, then take off your flesh, unpick the lock of your bones. In other words take off the wall that separates you from God.

I think language is beautiful. I even think insanity is beautiful (surely the root of language), except that it is painful.

He read me the Bible to prove I was sinful. For in the night he was betrayed. And then he let me give him a Judas-kiss, that red lock that held us in place, and then I gave him a drink from my cup and he whispered, "Rape, rape." And then I gave him my wrist and he sucked on the blood, hating himself for it, murmuring, "God will see. God will see.

You can't just pull anger out of a hat and make it work for you. You have to feel bad first. You always have to suffer

On July 14, 1942, the first trains left for Westerbork in Drenthe.