Quotes About Suffering

But there is no value to suffering! There is only value, said Derek, to overcoming suffering and seeking to spare others the suffering one has known oneself!

And pain was pain, whether physical or mental. Not the wisest of men or women or Taltos would ever know which was worse—the pain of the heart or the pain of the flesh.

They float upon the surface of the darkness in which I am drowning.

But there is no value to suffering!

The only pain in pleasure is the pleasure of pain

and then he glanced at the ceiling and, making a fist with his right hand, he gasped, Damn you... God! Damn you!

Nothing vanishes quite like pain—when pain does vanish, that is. Because most of the time pain never does.

He sat relaxed, one knee up, arms folded, face clear one moment in a flash of flame and pale the next. He was soiled all over, and seemed rather limp and in a strange misery of ease. His expression was neither bitter nor sarcastic, only thoughtful-fixed with an enduring expression just as the faces on the mosaics were fixed as they bore lifeless witness to the same events.

Do you see what I am! Why, if God exists, does He suffer me to exist!' I said to him. 'You talk of sacrilege!' He dug his nails into my hands, trying to free himself, his missal dropping to the floor, his rosary clattering in the folds of his cassock. He might as well have fought the animated statues of the saints. I drew my lips back and showed him my virulent teeth. 'Why does He suffer me to live!' I said.

Maybe I was going mad. There had been enough pain for it and enough magic; there had been enough hunger, and enough blood.

You squirm on the end of a hook, you're a doomed catch from the sea, and you do not even know that you are no longer in the life-sustaining water.

You are for me. That was my answer for him. The soft words in Russian I gave to him through the Mind Gift. Remember. Who were you before you came here? Before they hurt you? Go back. Go back to the ikon. Go back to the Face of Christ if need be.

I was weak from the heat of my own miserable thoughts.

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 their beauty or their splendor. Rather they remain as hard as gems.

How many centuries must pass before the blood of so many has soaked deep enough into the earth to be forgotten?

And I've more reason now than ever to say that happiness is not what I will ever know, or will ever deserve to know. I am not so much in love with happiness.

Suffering may distort my backward glances, but even to suffering, but even to suffering, some memories will yield nothing of their beauty or splendor. Rather they remain hard as gems.

el dolor se hallaba en todas partes, que formaba parte del proceso de la vida en la misma medida que el nacimiento y la muerte.

It's an awful truth that suffering can deepen us, give a greater luster to our colors, a richer resonance to our words. That is, if it doesn't destroy us, if it doesn't burn

Open your ears, my darling; listen to their prayers; listen to the silence of those who've learned to pray for nothing. For nothing has always been their portion, whatever the name of their nation, their city, their tribe.

His mind was full of the verbal instruments by which he could bring about his own despair.

If I could, I'd deliver you from old age and death, from aches and pains, from the blandishments of ghosts, from the torment of your familiar, Goblin. I'd deliver you from heat and cold and from the arid dullness of the noonday sun. I'd deliver you into the placid light of the moon and into the domain of the Milky Way forever.

Her lean face, with its well-shaped pale lips, broke into the freshest and most robust smile, as if neglect and pain had never gnawed at her.

I heard a sinister laughter, rumbling like low thunder over the moist soft sounds of their anguish and suffering. I heard a long, dry cruel laugh. I closed my eyes. I went deep deep inside myself. I lay in the dirt of the Monastery of the Caves, a wraith of myself, tumbled back into the softest and most terrible memories.