Quotes About Suffering

as the Good Book says. I'm a laying up sin and suffering for us both

De todos los animales, el hombre es el único que es cruel. Es el único que infringe dolor por el placer de hacerlo.

The law roasted her to death at a slow fire.

Una di queste giovani madri non era che una ragazzina e mi fece male al cuore leggere quella sofferenza e pensare che scaturiva dall'animo di una bambina, un animo che non avrebbe dovuto ancora conoscere il dolore, ma soltanto la gioia del mattino della vita.

What dost thou know of suffering and oppression? I and my people know, but not thou.

Monday morning always found him so—because it began another week's slow suffering in school.

What if, like virtually everybody else who suffers repeatedly from depression, you have become a victim of your own very sensible, even heroic, efforts to free yourself—like someone pulled even deeper into quicksand by the struggling intended to get you out?

Is it possible to love something so much, you imagine it wants to destroy you only because it has denied you?

Can Clara English ever recover or is she permanently wounded, damned to stagger under years devoid of meaning & love until finally the day comes when she stumbles and is swept away?

Remember, while hell may be a place of misery, it still perseveres, promising perpetual preservation, continuation.

Lude would never feel how 'empty hallways long past midnight' could slice inside of you, though I'm not so sure he wasn't sliced up just the same. Not seeing the rip doesn't mean you automatically get to keep clear of the Hey-I'm-Bleeding part.

In both cases, unfulfilled love results in the total negation of Echo's body and the near negation of her voice.

Quite a few people have slept and suffered within those walls.

But it feels like the hinges must have finally failed, whatever was trying to get in, at last succeeding, instantly tearing into me, and though I'm still conscious, slashing my throat with those long fingers and ripping my ribs out one by one with its brutal jaws.

It is a justice forever informed by the deepest kind of agony.

Please believe me when I tell you that I picked up each soul that day as if it were newly born. I even kissed a few weary, poisoned cheeks. I listened to their last, gasping cries. Their vanishing words. I watched their love visions and freed them from their fear.

People die of broken hearts. They have heart attacks. And it's the heart that hurts most when things go wrong and fall apart.

He killed himself for wanting to live.

The point is, Ilsa Hermann had decided to make suffering her triumph. When it refused to let go of her, she succumbed to it. She embraced it.

After perhaps thirty meters, just as a soldier turned around, the girl was felled. Hands were clamped upon her from behind and the boy next door brought her down. He forced her knees to the road and suffered the penalty. He collected her punches as if they were presents. Her bony hands and elbows were accepted with nothing but a few short moans. He accumulated the loud, clumsy specks of saliva and tears as if they were lovely to his face, and more important, he was able to hold her down.

The Germans in basements were pitiable, surely, but at least they had a chance. That basement was not a washroom. They were not sent there for a shower. For those people, life was still achievable.

Don't make me happy. Please, don't fill me up and let me think that something good can come of any of this. Look at my bruises. Look at this graze. Do you see the graze inside me? Do you see it growing before your very eyes, eroding me? I don't want to hope for anything anymore.

She was battered and beaten up, and not smiling this time. Liesel could see it on her face. Blood leaked from her nose and licked at her lips. Her eyes had blackened. Cuts had opened up and a series of wounds were rising to the surface of her skin. All from the words. From Liesel's words.

Imagine smiling after a slap in the face. Then think of doing it twenty-four hours a day. That was the business of hiding a Jew.