Quotes About Suffering

One who does evil is tormented in this life, Tormented in the next, Is tormented in both worlds. Here he is tormented, knowing, "I have done evil." Reborn in realms of woe, he is tormented all the more.

Patient endurance is the supreme austerity.

The story of the meaning of existence is a long one. Its origins are Greek, pre-Christian. As we have seen suffering was used as a way of proving the injustice of existence, but at the same time as a way of finding a higher and divine justification for it. (It is blameworthy because it suffers, but because it suffers it is atoned for and redeemed.)

I've suffered betrayal with all five senses. For over a year.

I'm tired of dying.

Nick Dunne took my pride and my dignity and my hope and my money. He took and took from me until I no longer existed. That's murder.

I don't feel like Nick's wife. I don't feel like a person at all: I am something to be loaded and unloaded, like a sofa or a cuckoo clock. I am something to be tossed into a junkyard, thrown into the river, if necessary. I don't feel real anymore. I feel like I could disappear.

He Giving Treed me out of existence.

I'm so much happier now that I'm dead. Technically missing. Soon to be presumed dead. Gone. And my lazy lying shitting oblivious husband will go to prison for my murder. Nick Dunne took my pride and my dignity and my hope and my money. He took and took from me until I no longer existed. That's murder. Let the punishment fit the crime.

It's all too much for her, the cruelty of human beings.

Every tragedy that happens in the world happens to my mother

What an indulgence it would be, to just blow off my head, all my mean spirits disappearing with a gun blast, like blowing a seedy dandelion apart.

You know how people sometimes say they have to hurt because if they don't, they're so numb they won't feel anything?

My brother slaughtered my family when I was seven. My mom, two sisters, gone: bang bang, chop chop, choke choke.

He took away chunks of me with blasé swipes: my independence, my pride, my esteem. I gave, and he took and took. He Giving Treed me out of existence. That whore, he picked that little whore over me. He killed my soul, which should be a crime.

I hadn't necessarily wanted to be cured. But I was out of places to write, slicing myself between my toes—bad, cry—like a junkie looking for one last vein. Vanish did it for me. I'd saved the neck, such a nice prime spot, for one final good cutting. Then I turned myself in.

He felt like an animal limping away, some wounded buck that needed to be put down.

too serious, Amy, you're too uptight, Amy, you overthink things, you analyze too much, you're no fun anymore, you make me feel useless, Amy, you make me feel bad, Amy. He took away chunks of me with blasé swipes: my independence, my pride, my esteem. I gave, and he took and took. He Giving Treed me out of existence. That whore, he picked that little whore over me. He killed my soul, which should be a crime. Actually, it is a crime.

I'd wanted to die for years, but not lately and definitely not by those bitches.

Every tragedy that happens in the world happens to my mother, and this more than anything about her turns my stomach. She worries over people she's never met who have a spell of bad chance. She cries over news from across the globe. It's all too much for her, the cruelty of human beings

I have known so many sick women all my life. Women with chronic pain, with ever-gestating diseases. Women with conditions. Men, sure, they have bone snaps, they have backaches, they have a surgery or two, yank out a tonsil, insert a shiny plastic hip. Women get consumed.

Uma criança criada com veneno considera dor um consolo.

I guess I've been depressed for about twenty-four years.

He took away chunks of me with blasé swipes: my independence, my pride, my esteem. I gave, and he took and took. He Giving Treed me out of existence. That whore, he picked that little whore over me. He killed my soul, which should be a crime. Actually, it is a crime. According to me, at least.