Quotes About Suffering

Dying is easy. Living is hard

Women can handle the worst kind of pain.

it will be the kind of pain that won't feel real at first, and when it does, it will take her breath away.

What can I tell you? Love's a bitch.

Que puedo decirte? El amor es una mala arpía.

It's the hoping that makes it hurt.

OrI just want out. Out of my existence. I find myself wishing that a lot lately. Not be dead. Or kill myself. Or any of that kind of stupid shit. It's more that I can't help thinking that if I'd never been born in the first place, I wouldn't be facing those sixty-seven nights, I wouldn't be right here, right now, having just endured that conversation with her.

He talks about despair, how it drives in silence.

I cannot scream until my throat hurts or break a window with my fist until my hand bleeds, or pull my hair out in clumps until the pain in my scalp overcomes the one in my heart

I shouldn't have to care. I shouldn't have to work this hard. I realize now that dying is easy. Living is hard.

El autor muestra ahora que la humillación de Cristo era necesaria para su glorificación. Nosotros le vemos coronado de gloria y honor, a causa de sus sufrimientos y muerte.

Do you think it takes true pain to experience true pleasure?

Every night death came, slowly, painfully, and every morning Maddox awoke in bed, knowing he'd have to die again later. That was his greatest curse and his eternal punishment.

Hope is a demon worse than your Pain.

Pain laughed giddily at the thought, for love brought its own brand of torment. Lots and lots of torment. In the heart, the soul. Both causing a physical ache too intense to be relieved.

Kill me then. A true death. Please. You can't leave me like this." "Like This" had been broken, bloody and violated in unspeakable ways. "Anything but that. You'll recover. One day you will even be happy again." "I don't want to recover. I want to cease to exist, now and forever. That's the only way to end my torment.

Physical pain will never compare to mental anguish.

The harder you fight, The more you bleed.

Should—a word of anguish rather than consolation.

He popped his jaw, trying to relax against a new onslaught of aggression. It wasn't as if he were the only one to suffer, he reminded himself. The other warriors had their own demons—literally and figuratively. Torin, of course, was keeper of Disease. Lucien was keeper of Death. Reyes, of Pain. Aeron, of Wrath. Paris, of Promiscuity. Why couldn't he have been given that last one?

Jump. "Not yet." A few more seconds of anticipation, of knowing most of his bones would shatter on contact. He grinned at the thought. The razor-sharp bone shards would cut his injured, swollen organs and those organs would burst like water balloons; his skin would rip from the excess fluid and this time the lifeblood that drained would be his own. Agony, such blissful agony, would consume him. For a little while, anyway.

Her pain was so strong, so shrill she could almost understand a man's suffering when he had a cold.

Seeing her like this…whatever anger I still harbored evaporates, leaving only the love I have for her. I suffered because of the choices she made, but so did she. Regret is etched into every line of her skin.

She had created her own misery. Had welcomed her own destruction. Had cast her own emotional illusions, believing in them until they became her reality.