Quotes About Suffering

Because I am in love. Love is a slow bleed.

Knowing now I would never be alone again never lonely again as in those years God allowed me to be thus as if He did not exist forcing onto me the bitter knowledge that He did not exist in truth or if He did His existence touched in no way upon my own.

You ordinary people who read and do not write, who 'like to read' and know nothing of the sufferings of writers, how fortunate you are!

The hard part of humanity is history. All that's been done to human beings by other human beings. In the Rocky River Nature Preserve you didn't have to think of such things.

A predatory bird with a great sharp beak and vicious talons—Paradox. To be in its grip is to suffer, yet so exquisitely, one might mistake the experience for a kind of ecstasy. Josiah

Secrets of the adult universe, forbidden for children to know: how beauty and suffering are intertwined.

Life is the horror, abortion or miscarriage is the redemption. As Sophocles said so beautifully, 'Never to have been born is best, but once you've entered this world, return as quickly as possible to the place you came from.

You have hardened your heart against your "American cousin." It was courageous in the memoir to state so clearly how you had to harden your heart against so much, to survive. Americans believe that suffering makes saints of us, which is a joke. Still I realize you have no time for me in your life now. There is no "purpose" to me. Even

grip of Paradox. A predatory bird with a great sharp beak and vicious talons—Paradox. To be in its grip is to suffer, yet so exquisitely, one might mistake the experience for a kind of ecstasy.

A predatory bird with a great sharp beak and vicious talons—Paradox. To be in its grip is to suffer, yet so exquisitely, one might mistake the experience for a kind of ecstasy.

You wear out. You see too much. Every breath hurts. The

You do know, don't you, Allen, that God is a bookseller? He publishes one book-the text of suffering - over and over again. He disguises it between new boards, in different shapes and sizes, prints on varying papers, in many fonts, adds prefaces and postscripts to deceive the buyer, but it's always the same book.

his liver was enlarged and rode across the small of his back like a hard-rubbery leech

Our lives are Möbius strips, misery and wonder simultaneously. Our destinies are infinite, and infinitely recurring. In

But how is it justice, God? Why do I deserve this?" She waited. God declined to reply. How

Yet I remember little. Or nothing. A chloroformed handkerchief, perhaps; a stinging & burning sensation afterward, when required to make water—(as Nanny called it); ah, is it not distasteful, ugly—& too trifling to be recalled.)

Life is the horror, abortion or miscarriage is the redemption. As Sophocles said so beautifully, 'Never to have been born is best, but once you've entered this world, return

God dies if he is not loved but I was not loved and I did not die.

As soon as she'd come home that afternoon, she took two aspirin tablets. To get her through the ordeal of supper, two more. It seemed to her that the pain in her lower belly, the hot sullen seepage of blood in her loins had lessened. Her skin was hot, her forehead burning.

From time to time somewhere in the house the lonely Siamese cat erupted in a high-pitched, piteous yowl, a cry of utter desolation and misery that chilled my blood, as if I had been torturing her, and was to blame for her suffering.

Like a memory of having been poisoned by something you'd eaten, barely managed to survive—and yet here is the food again, and you are hungry.

The truth is that life is hard and dangerous; that he who seeks his own happiness does not find it; that he who is weak must suffer; that he who demands love will be disappointed; that he who is greedy will not be fed; that he who seeks peace will find strife; that truth is only for the brave; that joy is only for him who does not fear to be alone; that life is only for the one who is not afraid to die.

tragedy and death would follow a person whereever he went in life. There was no such thing as escape, except maybe the kind that Mr. Kirby had accomplished...

The absence of pain means death, so when something no longer bothers you, you've died to that thing.