Quotes About Suffering

They'd listen silenty, with grave faces: but once they'd turn to each other they'd smile cruelly. He couldn't have it both ways. He'd put himself outside and outside they'd make him stay. Neither brutality nor complaining could force a way in.

and I could hear from his voice that he was smiling. He was happy that I hurt like that. And I knew I had felt the same happiness, anytime he mentioned feeling hurt by me. Why was it fun for us to make each other suffer? Did that mean it wasn't love? Surely that wasn't what love was?

She had thought it would descend over her like a fog, turning things fuzzy, coloring them gray. But depression was active, it paced back and forth wringing its hands.

I can't pretend to know what it feels like to lose a child, but I assume it's the worst pain I've ever felt times a thousand, or times a hundred thousand.

How did she do it? "She comes clumping along with that sad, suffering face drawn with pain from her varicose veins and God knows what-all," one old-timer said. "You rush to help her to your seat. She thanks you kindly. The next thing you know you're dead.

I bear a little more than I can bear.

Thus those who suffered personal misfortune and those who suffered the pain of the wronged world were together in the nude tomb of wine, and could be like spirits, finally parted from this world of suffering and wrongs.

My feet hurt, I was light-headed with stress and bad meals, and the idea of perhaps eating real food and sitting in a chair-- or even sleeping in a bed!-- sounded like bliss.

Avoiding pain will get you nowhere. Avoiding pain multiplies pain exponentially.

There's wisdom in applying duct tape to our mouths in suffering seasons. In the raw reality of pain, we do well to sit in silence. But it can also be dangerous to be quiet for too long.

Of one thing I am perfectly sure: God's story never ends with 'ashes.

To be a follower of the Crucified means, sooner or later, a personal encounter with the cross. And the cross always entails loss. The great symbol of Christianity means sacrifice and no one who calls himself a Christian can evade this stark fact.

Nils might face death with equanimity, but not lameness. And because he never spoke of it, never complained, it would go harder for him than Own, who could swear freely about his missing fingers, and pity himself intensely and eloquently.

The sex was so passionate it bordered on violence. It was not vanilla. It was passion as suffering

Indeed, martyrdom can be understood as one form of refusing the meaninglessness of death itself, of insisting that suffering and death do not signify emptiness and nothingness, which they might otherwise seem to imply.

He took a deep breath. It was no matter. Of course his feelings were stronger, as they should be. He was to be the leader of their household, after all; it would not do for him to feel less than she did. And she was a lady. She would have kept her feelings in check until she was sure of his. Poor dear, she likely wondered why he had not spoken up. He had walked with her almost daily but spoken nothing of love or marriage. How could he have let her suffer so?

Compreendi por fim que o amor causa muito sofrimento quando acontecem coisas más. E foi por causa dele que comecei a entender que podem também advir coisas boas do amor.

They shared an unshakeable belief in beauty, in overflow, in everythingness, the bursting, indelible beauty in a world where there is so much suffering and wounding and pain.

I been in sorrow's kitchen and done licked out all the pots. Nobody knows the trouble I seen. Steal away to Jesus. I ain't got long to stay here.

I praise Thee while my days go on; I love Thee while my days go on: Through dark and dearth, through fire and frost, With emptied arms and treasure lost, I thank Thee while my days go on. And having in thy life-depth thrown Being and suffering (which are one), As a child drops his pebble small Down some deep well, and hears it fall Smiling so I. THY DAYS GO ON.

Take from my head the thorn-wreath brown! No mortal grief deserves that crown. O supreme Love, chief misery, The sharp regalia are for Thee Whose days eternally go on!' For us, whatever's undergone, Thou knowest, willest what is done, Grief may be joy misunderstood; Only the Good discerns the good. I trust Thee while my days go on.

Knowledge by suffering entereth,And life is perfected by death.

For tis not in mere death that men die most.

True knowledge comes only through suffering