Quotes About Suffering

Us, on the other hand, they can't kill. But we have to live with the memory of what they do. And really, it's what they do to us that's worse.

If reassurances could dull pain, nobody would ever go to the trouble of pressing grapes.

Then he knew what hell was like. It wasn't a hot place where a pointy-tailed beast poked you with a pitchfork. Hell was inside your own head, where the doors were closed, where hope never knocked, where darkness and pain and self-pity were the only companions. Forever.

When we avoid the legitimate suffering that results from dealing with problems, we also avoid the growth that problems demand from us.

Life is difficult. This is a great truth, one of the greatest truths. It is a great truth because once we truly see this truth, we transcend it. Once we truly know that life is difficult--once we truly understand and accept it--then life is no longer difficult. Because once it is accepted, the fact that life is difficult no longer matters.

Treatment for malignancies had become only a little better than the tortures of a CIA black site.

And do I ask, wherefore my heart Falters, oppressed with unknown needs? Why some inexplicable smart All movement of my life impedes? Alas! in living Nature's stead, Where God His human creature set, In smoke and mould the fleshless dead And bones of beasts surround me yet!

I see no end to my misery but the grave.

I often feel that way, I would like to open one of my veins, to bring me eternal freedom.

Qué otra cosa es el destino del hombre, más que soportar su medida y apurar su vaso? Y si el cáliz le resultó amargo al Dios del cielo, ¿por qué debo pavonearme como si me agradara? ¿Y por qué debo avergonzarme, cuando toda mi existencia tiembla entre el ser y no ser, cuando el pasado brilla como un rayo sobre el oscuro abismo del futuro y todo a mi alrededor se hunde y el mundo se pierde conmigo?

Whom I once get hold of, he will Find the whole world pointless, futile. 11810 Over him gloom casts its dun net, Blinding him to sunrise, sunset, Though possessing all his senses, Inwardly there's only darkness,

there would be far less suffering amongst mankind, if men — and God knows why they are so fashioned — did not employ their imaginations so assiduously in recalling the memory of past sorrow, instead of bearing their present lot with equanimity.

No doubt you are right, my best of friends, there would be far less suffering amongst mankind, if men—and God knows why they are so fashioned—did not employ their imaginations so assiduously in recalling the memory of past sorrow, instead of bearing their present lot with equanimity.

Oftentimes I say to myself, "Thou alone art wretched: all other mortals are happy, none are distressed like thee!" Then I read a passage in an ancient poet, and I seem to understand my own heart. I have so much to endure! Have men before me ever been so wretched?

The human race is but a monotonous affair. Most of them labour the greater part of their time for mere subsistence; and the scanty portion of freedom which remains to them so troubles them that they use every exertion to get rid of it. Oh, the destiny of man!

The question, therefore, is not whether a man is weak or strong, but whether he can endure the full extent of his sufferings, be they of a moral or physical nature.

Este corazón está ahora muerto, cerrado a todas las sensaciones; mis ojos están secos, y mis acerbos dolores, que no tienen desahogo, llenan de prematuras arrugas mi frente. ¡Cuánto sufro!

Suelo decirme a mí mismo: Tu destino no tiene igual: comparados contigo, los demás hombres son felices; porque jamás mortal alguno se vio atormentado como tú. Entonces leo a cualquier poeta antiguo y me parece que es el libro mi propio corazón. ¡Qué! ¿Aún me queda tanto que sufrir? ¿Y antes que yo ha habido hombres tan desgraciados?

Amigo mío: ¿necesitaré decírtelo, a ti que has sufrido más de una vez viéndome pasar de la tristeza a la alegría más alborotadora, y de una dulce melancolía a la pasión más violenta? Trato a este pobre corazón como a un niño enfermo, le concedo cuanto me pide. No se lo cuentes a nadie, que no faltaría quien dijese que con ello cometo un crimen

en conciencia, es más fácil el morir que el soportar con valor y firmeza una vida llena de amarguras y padecimientos.

Human nature," I continued, "has its limits. It is able to endure a certain degree of joy, sorrow, and pain, but becomes annihilated as soon as this measure is exceeded. The question, therefore, is, not whether a man is strong or weak, but whether he is able to endure the measure of his sufferings. The suffering may be moral or physical; and in my opinion it is just as absurd to call a man a coward who destroys himself, as to call a man a coward who dies of a malignant fever.

The Lord. Hast nothing for our edification? Still thy old work of accusation? Will things on earth be never right for thee? Mephistopheles. No, Lord! I find them still as bad as bad can be. Poor souls! their miseries seem so much to please 'em, I scarce can find it in my heart to tease 'em. The Lord. Knowest thou Faust?

Your commercial system has claimed thousands of victims, why not grant a few to Werther?

It is much easier to die than to bear a life of misery with fortitude.