Quotes About Suffering

Belief like that, that hasn't tasted any real hope in centuries, but has been fed and tortured on darker things-loneliness, desperation-it doesn't simply subside when faced with its own end. It doesn't accept or adapt, it exists in spite of reason, and will only ever defy it.

Why not open the door, and open their arms, and close them again around each other? Did the not understand how, in the strange chemistry of human emotion, his suffering and her, mingled together, could... countervail each other?

Some kinds of misery make you hate the world, but some kinds make you hate yourself, and--butter and cheese not withstanding--Neve had no question that Spear was the latter.

I kept thinking about that drawing in the war council, and our part in all of this. We cheat the bowl. We keep filling it back up, and the monsters keep stabbing their giant forks in, and because of us, there's always more for them to eat. We never lose but we never win, either. We just keep on dying. Is that what we do?

It was like dying, but without the consolation of oblivion.

The Misbegotten had, in the last year, been pared to a sliver of itself. They had lost so many brothers and sisters that those who remained could have drowned in the ashes of those who had died.

There is intimacy in pain.

Every night she bore witness to what she could never have. It wasn't living. It was torture.

There was no drawer she could put them in to give herself a rest, no hook she could tie their tethers to, to keep them in the world.

She was all dark-eyed intensity. Something was lost in her. Karou saw it and mourned. War does that, nothing for it. Reality lays siege. Your framed portrait of life is smashed, and a new one thrust upon you. Its ugly, and you don't even want to look at it , let alone hang it on the wall, but you have no choice.

What?" demanded Liraz. "Why are you laughing?" "Because life's a bastard," was all Akiva could say. "Well then," was his sister's flat reply. "I guess we fit right in.

Viata lunga este o povara, cand este traita in nefericire.

They were creatures grasping at life with stained hands.

Hay intimidad en el dolor. Cualquiera que haya consolado a alguien que sufre lo sabe

Someter. Qué palabra tan suave para definir la esclavitud y el quebranto espiritual que dejaría a las quimeras bajo el puño del imperio.

The function of hate, as Sarai saw it, was to stamp out compassion—to close a door in one's own self and forget it was ever there. If you had hate, then you could see suffering—and cause it—and feel nothing except perhaps a sordid vindication.

That was the year Zosma sank to its knees and bled great gouts of men into a war about nothing.

Surely there are other ways to live—" "No. Only death remains. One should die proudly when it is no longer possible to live proudly. Nietzsche said that, you know. Wise man. Large mustache." "Izîl, you can't mean you want to die." "If only there was a way to be free…

Tubuhnya menua setiap kali lelaki itu memasukinya dengan paksa dan merenggut usianya sepotong demi sepotong.

Besides, what was the use for self-pity? She always knew that beauty is more a curse than a blessing. It exalts and entraps.

How is it that some people are happy and others are not? How can you make your life meaningful when you know you are unhappy? Or does meaning come with unhappiness? Is it unhappiness or is it just a feeling of emptiness? When does a feeling of emptiness become suffering? What does it mean to be able to create great works because you are suffering?

This was the face of slavery. To have nothing, and still have something more to lose.

Sometimes good came out of hurt, compensation came out of pain. He gave with one hand, and He took with the other.

A great deal of our suffering arises because we are conflicted about reputation. Instead of being concerned about the reality of what we are, we're concerned about what other people think of us. We're too outward looking. That's incredible. As far as Buddhism is concerned, that's a sick mind; totally, clinically sick.