Quotes About Suffering

A fresh eddy of sadness washed over Natalie, and she shuddered with emotional pain. When would the tears stop? When would the pain subside? It wasn't like a headache or illness that could be cured by swallowing a pill. No, this ache of missing and regret felt like a constant, incurable condition.

Perhaps Jamie hadn't meant to teach her to bear up under unbearable pain, but he had shown her that appearances were everything, and illusion was a powerful tool.

force me to have a baby against my will. That's . . . It's barbaric. It's like . . . Handmaid shit.

Based on the reading she'd done about rape trauma, Margie knew she wasn't crazy, but suffering from PTSD.

In his madness and his blindness he was Lear and Gloucester combined.

One death is a tragedy; a million is a statistic.

Gratitude is an illness suffered by dogs.

This is the way to rule the people. Did you see how that chicken followed me for food, even though I had caused it such torture? People are like that chicken. If you inflict inordinate pain on them they will follow you for food the rest of their lives.

Why did we all crave love so badly when half the time it left us annihilated?

Woody Allen had it right: "Life is full of misery, loneliness, and suffering—and it's all over much too soon.

As a reward for their efforts, however, those early Christians were beaten, stoned to death, thrown to the lions, tortured and crucified. Every conceivable method was used to stop them from talking.

Now, I don't think about it." Or when I did, I mostly felt a terrible relief. Truly terrible, like a person who's been told they no longer have to carry the weight of their own gangrenous and rotting left arm. It smells, it hurts, it's literally killing you—but it's still the only left arm that you'll ever have.

I'd have to run away to New York and be a hooker and eat a pound of heroin and die.

The large factory became an incandescent symbol of human ambition and achievement, but also of suffering. Time and again, it served as a measuring rod for attitudes toward work, consumption, and power, a physical embodiment of dreams and nightmares about the future.

Philosophy suffers, so suffers History. Psychology, invariably. Russian suffers and History does too, a cosmic Russian suffering. But the worst of it's in the sciences with their laboratory needs. The sciences aren't just expensive, they're greedy. They run their departments as if another war's on.

All of us are born how we are born and suffer how we suffer and if even God can't make us equal who are we to think our laws can?

The world takes us to a silver screen on which flickering images of passion and romance play, and as we watch, the world says, "This is love." God takes us to the foot of a tree on which a naked and bloodied man hangs and says, "This is love.

But we had with us, to keep and to care for, more than five hundred bruised bodies of men- men made in the image of God, marred by the hand of man and must we say in the name of God? And where is the reckoning for such things? And who is answerable? One might almost shrink from the sound of his own voice, which had launched into the palpitating air words of order- do we call it? - fraught with such ruin. Was it God's command we heard or His forgiveness we must forever implore?

There was no damn way we were ever gonna put our people into the ground again. Beneath us was hell. Heaven's above... ...and that's where we all deserve to be.

ONE OF THE REASONS that depression is so problematic—and deadly, leading to many of the forty thousand suicides in the United States each year—is that people are often loath to admit they are suffering, let alone explore it in detail.

Suffering was not a punishment from beyond or a malevolent infestation of the soul. Like the earth turning on its axis or energy passing through a conductor, it was a part of the natural world, to be studied, understood, and, when possible, managed.

I am now the most miserable man living. If what I feel were equally distributed to the whole human family, there would not be one cheerful face on the earth. Whether I shall ever be better I can not tell; I awfully forebode I shall not. To remain as I am is impossible; I must die or be better, it appears to me.

When Lincoln was thirty-two, he wrote, "I am now the most miserable man living.

The suffering he had endured lent him clarity, discipline, and faith in hard times—perhaps especially in hard times.