Quotes About Suffering

Now and again he let out a sort of clipped, bitter laugh. "Good God, to have fought in '14 and then see this Ã¢â'¬Â¦

But why are we always the ones who have to suffer?" she cried out in indignation. "Us and people like us? Ordinary people, the lower middle classes.

He wore the expression found on people who have died in an accident, in a matter of seconds, without having had time to be afraid or suffer.

Dying doesn't cause suffering. Resistance to dying does.

The pictures up on that wall in Cupertino illustrated that not just one person but hundreds of thousands could have their lives extinguished, die at the whim of others, and the next day their deaths would be meaningless. But even more telling was that those who had brought about these deaths (the most terror-filled, even if inevitable, tragedy of the human experience) could also degrade the victims and force them to expire in maximum pain and humiliation.

One historian has estimated that if the dead from Nanking were to link hands, they would stretch from Nanking to the city of Hangchow, spanning a distance of some two hundred miles. Their blood would weigh twelve hundred tons, and their bodies would fill twenty-five hundred railroad cars. Stacked on top of each other, these bodies would reach the height of a seventy-four-story building.

Sometimes I felt I would die by wishing it when I went to sleep but I always woke up again and found I was still there. Every morning finding I'm still me, that's hell. Well, get out of hell then! The gate's open and I'm holding it! I can't. I'm hell, myself.

Let me sleep at last. I've had misery enough in my life. You said there was nowhere to go to. There is death to go to. I've had misery enough in my life.

But now more often the old stale hopeless weariness overcame him: the black sickness which almost no one else , certainly not his nearest dearest friends, could understand at all . The idea of giving up the world, which had given him for a time so much life-energy, appeared now as a sort of fake suicide, a ghastly play-image of his death. This fatal falseness-of-heart was what perhaps Father Damien, on further acquaintance, had now seen in him.

I'm made for misery, misery, misery , I'm made to be destroyed !

All chances of happiness are gone from me. Just being with myself is hell all the time anyway.

I need love, I've never felt more in need of it than now. I feel so terribly terribly unhappy.

What greater torment than to see that light, and then to see it eternally withdrawn?

To say we were 'in love', that vague weakened phrase, cannot express it. We loved each other, we lived in each other, through each other, by each other. We were each other. Why was it such pure unadulterated pain?

I must admit that I am in a state of utter wretchedness and have been for a long time. I didn't know that such extreme unhappiness could continue for so long.

He can do anything he likes and I'm so lonely, oh so lonely— And I put up with it because there was nothing else to do—

The world is perhaps ultimately to be defined as a place of suffering. Man is a suffering animal, subject to ceaseless anxiety and pain and fear.

I crave for love, everybody does . . . and I've never had a bloody crumb of it—and I've given so much love to people—I can really love people, I can, I let them walk over me—but nobody's ever loved me.

How hardening to the heart it must be to do this thing: to change an innocent soaring being into a bundle of struggling rags and pain.

The theatre is an attack on mankind carried on by magic: to victimize an audience every night, to make them laugh and cry and suffer and miss their trains.

You see, I'm not mad, I suffer from depression. It's not like ordinary misery. It's like dying of boredom. It's black .

I've somehow run myself into hell. There must be many entrances.

I saw her simplicity, her ignorance, her childish unkindness, her unpretty anxious little face. She was not beautiful or brilliantly clever. How false it is to say that love is blind. I could even judge her, I could even condemn her, I could even, in some possible galactic loop of thought, make her suffer.

He suffers terribly all the time. He lives in fire.