Quotes About Suffering

He is my solace although he is also my pain.

They supposed that, even if they melted down all the calendars and smashed all the clocks, one minute would daftly follow another until some final cure were found for the malady of Time.

He looked around, saw himself mirrored in that man walking back with his rifle. And suddenly, it seemed possible to him that we might love ourselves the most when we are suffering and seen to suffer. The pursuits of men seemed only the more shocking, if this were true.

Memories of her dying. All the pain she went through. It's a little like living by a waterfall," he said. The years go by and I'm worn down by the continuous roar. Which I can never shut off. But it was the card I drew in this life.

The world runs," Lowell said, "on the fuel of this endless, fathomless misery. People know it, but they don't mind what they don't see. Make them look and they mind, but you're the one they hate, because you're the one that made them look.

But then, the flames of a fire are not made less painful by the knowledge that others are burning with you.

Why do mortals think that suffering is a coin with which they can buy justice or salvation? ... life is a steal if you are a talented thief, and if you are not, then you may suffer all you please but if will buy you nothing but pain.

the flames of a fire are not made less painful by the knowledge that others are burning with you.

A witch cannot die until her familiars or imps are dead. If a witch desires to put an end to her suffering she must call each familiar by name and order it to die. Then, when the last is dead, she too will die. Greetwell Edward

Death by fire. That was something they all knew about, even those who hadn't seen it, hand't smelt the stench that hangs round a town for days, hadn't heard the screams that echo night after night through your dreams; even those who had not witnessed a burning had heard tell of it and shuddered.

Dying is overrated. Human sentimentality has twisted it into the ultimate act of love. Biggest load of bullshit in the world. Dying for someone isn't the hard thing. The man that dies escapes. Plain and simple. Game over. End of pain...Try living for someone. Through it all-good, bad, thick, thin, joy, suffering. That's the hard thing.

There are two kinds of people in the world Ms. Lane: those who survive no matter the cost and those who are walking victims.

I get it the whole idea of willingly going to hell for someone. Living there insane if you have to because you'd rather be insane with them than endure life without them.

Did I have to be dead to get you to see me? Wake the fuck up, Ms. Lane. Dying is overrated. Human sentimentality has twisted it into the ultimate act of love. Biggest load of bullshit in the world. Dying for someone isn't the hard thing. The man that dies escapes . Plan and simple. Game over. End of pain. Alina was the lucky one. Try living for someone. Through it all - good, bad, thick, thin, joy, suffering. That's the hard thing.

I make a new discovery that totally blows; dying is the easy part. It's coming back to life that sucks.

When you love too hard, you can lose the will to live without them. Everywhere you look is a great big sucking absence of what you once had and will never have again. And life gets weirdly flat and too sharp and painful at the same time, and nothing feels right and everything cuts.

I have found there to be little distance between the unlatching of a chain and the spreading of a woman's legs. As if they can never unbar only a single entrance. It's a disease called hope. Women suffer from it greatly.

I know a simple truth: mercy killing doesn't hold one fucking ounce of mercy for those that live.

Do you think love just goes away? Pops out of existence when it becomes too painful or inconvenient, as if you never felt it?

Right. And soon sentient beings will stop destroying one another and themselves. Not. We're all going to die. Alone and miserably. With lots of pain. That's the way life goes. People make promises and don't keep them. They say they care about you and forget you." "I didn't forget you. I never forget you

and have lived through hells of your own before ever coming to me. I have only given you one more hell to add to it.

I'll be a straitjacketed bookworm burrowed into the binding of an insane, homicidal book, staring helplessly out from the pages of my own life, as they're writ by someone else, and I'd commit atrocities that would damn a saint's soul.

You loved me." It wasn't a question, but he answered it readily. "I do. More than life. My heart. I didn't just pick a sweet turn of phrase to name you, but spoke from my soul when I named you thus. Without my heart I couldn't live. And I couldn't breathe without you." "Are you a man who has more than one heart?" "Nay. Only this one. But it's bitter and dark now from the pain I've brought you.

I thought I was in Hell. Then I found out what Hell really was.