Quotes About Suffering

Je vis, je meurs ; je me brûle et me noie ; J'ai chaud extrême en endurant froidure

troubles are as endless as pleasures are brief ...

only a complete alcoholic can think life is funny ... any life! ...

And where, I ask you, can a man escape to, when he hasn't enough madness left inside him? The truth is an endless death agony. The truth is death. You have to choose: death or lies. I've never been able to kill myself.

la vérité, c'est une agonie qui n'en finit pas. La vérité de ce monde, c'est la mort. Il faut choisir, mourir ou mentir. Je n'ai jamais pu me tuer moi

she robbed me blind, the bitch!...and she's still at it! everyone who's ever done me wrong, robbed me, repudiated me, pillaged me has never suffered...and never will suffer! you could call it their reward!...robbing me brings you good luck!

The truth is an endless death agony. The truth is death.

Autant pas se faire d'illusions, les gens n'ont rien à se dire, ils ne se parlent que de leurs peines à eux chacun, c'est entendu. Chacun pour soi, la terre pour tous.

Si les gens sont si méchants, c'est peut-être seulement parce qu'ils souffrent, mais le temps est long qui sépare le moment où ils ont cessé de souffrir de celui où ils deviennent un peu meilleurs.

That street was like a dismal gash, endless, with us at the bottom of it, filling it from side to side, advancing from sorrow to sorrow, toward an end that is never in sight, the end of all the streets in the world.

My one and only chicken, bequeathed to me by Robinson, dreaded the noon hour the same as I did, he'd go back in with me. For three weeks the chicken lived with me like that, following me like a dog, clucking constantly, seeing snakes wherever he went. One day of extreme boredom, I ate him.

our frenzy to persist in our present state—that's the unconscionable torture.

Lo mejor que puedes hacer, verdad, cuando estás en este mundo, es salir de él. Loco o no, con miedo o sin él.

Now I know... we have at least two friends!... Cillie von Leiden and the hunchback... not bad in our situation... or, come right down to it, no matter where and when, peace, dead calm, wars, convulsions... so many vaginas, stomachs, cocks, snouts, and flies you don't know what to do with them... shovelsful!... but hearts?... very rare!

He was crushed by his enormous resignation, that basic quality that makes it as easy to kill poor bastards in and out of the army as to let them live. Poor people never, or hardly ever, ask for an explanation of all they have to put up with. They hate one another, and content themselves with that.

Garibanlar asla, ya da neredeyse hiç sormazlar, katland?klar? ÅŸeylerin nedenini niçinini. Birbirlerinden nefret etmekle yetinirler, o kadar

the old geezer was eighty, he'd been horseback riding only last year ... now he had a different sport, he went down on all fours and the kids rode him ... giddyap, horsie! they whipped him with his riding whip! ... till the blood came! ... he loved it! ... all around his study! faster! faster! ... los! ... into the next room ... witches! witches! he yelled at them, with his bare old ass! ...

Nothing can be explained. The world only knows how to do one thing, to roll over and kill you

The best thing to do when you're in this world, don't you agree, is to get out of it. Crazy or not, scared or not.

Never be picky and choosy about means of escaping disembowelment, or waste your time trying to find reasons for the persecution you're a victim of. Escape is good enough for the wise.

We people are just worms on top of it, worms on its fat, revolting carcass, eating its entrails and all its poisons … Nothing can help us, we were born rotten … There you have it!

I tell you, little man, life's fall guys, beaten, fleeced to the bone, sweated from time immemorial, I warn you, that when the princes of this world start loving you, it means they're going to grind you up into battle sausage...

Ils dénichaient mainte fois une ration de pain (même déficient du point de vue diététique) afin de survivre quand même jusqu'à la prochaine typhoïde qui, elle, n'allait pas rater leur organisme affaibli.

Here's the truth, simply stated...bookstores are suffering from a serious crisis of falling sales. Don't believe a single zero of all those editions claimed to be 100,000! 40,000!...even 400 copies! just for the suckers! Alack!...Alas!...only love and romance...and even then!...manage to keep selling...and a few murder mysteries...