Quotes About Pain

Suferin?a sfin?e?te totul.

O maior amor é o não correspondido. Cresce para aumentar avidez da carne; tortura para valorizar o prazer.

As soon as misfortune overtakes you there is always a friend ready to come and announce it, and probe your heart with a dagger while bidding you admire the hilt.

En se résignant, le malheureux consomme son malheur.

Çocuklu?umu, delikanl?l???m? anlatt?m ona; size anlatt???m gibi uzaktan hüküm vererek de?il, yaralar? hala kanayan genç adam?n ate?li sözleriyle... ... Bir ara sessiz geçti. Bu sessizlikte ruhlar?m?z ?u avutucu dü?ünce içinde birbiriyle evlendiler: Demek ki ac? çeken bir ben de?ilmi?im!

Femeia are comun cu îngerii faptul c? cei care sufer? îi apar?in.

There's really no such thing as the agony of dying. I'm quite sure that pain is shut off at the moment of death. You see, something happens when the body knows it's about to go. Peptide hormones are released by cells in the hypothalamus and pituitary gland. Endorphins. They attach themselves to the cells responsible for feeling pain.

To give up another person's love is a mild suicide; like a very bad inoculation as compared to the full disease.

He [the informer] was a poor weak human being like themselves, a human soul, weak and helpless in suffering, shivering in the toils of the eternal struggle of the human soul with pain.

You could try as hard as you could to imagine someone else's tragedy—drowning in icy waters, living in a city split by a wall—but nothing truly hurts until it happens to you. Most of all, to your child.

This was how it could be done. This was how you lived with a terrible secret. You just did it. You pretended everything was fine. You ignored the deep, cramplike pain in your stomach. You somehow anesthetized yourself so that nothing felt that bad, but nothing felt that good either.

She had not realised that grief was so physical. Before Zach died, she thought grief happened in your head. She didn't know that your whole body ached with it, that it screwed up your digestive system, your menstrual cycle, your sleep patterns, your skin. You wouldn't wish it on your worst enemy.

I have no right to be sad about anything. No right to have therapy from expensive doctors like you for losing children who never existed. There is real grief in the world. There are real mothers losing real children.

She had too much imagination. Too much empathy [...] there was real pain in the world, right this very moment people were suffering unimaginable atrocities and you couldn't close your heart completely, but you couldn't leave it wide open either, because otherwise how could you possibly live your life, when through pure, random luck you got to live in paradise?

It feels like you can't breathe, but you actually are breathing. It feels like you'll never stop crying, but you actually will.

If her back had ever hurt like this when she was twenty she would have been hysterical, demanding painkillers and cups of tea in bed, but she has found that nobody is especially surprised to hear you're in pain when you're in your eighties. You might find it astonishing, but nobody else does.

As seductive as it might have been to erase the grief and pain of the last ten years, it was also a lie. Young Alice was a fool. A sweet, innocent fool. Young Alice hadn't experienced ten years of living.

How horrible it was to be despised. To feel yourself to be despicable.

You could try as hard as you could to imagine someone else's tragedy - but nothing truly hurts until it happens to you.

The weather wasn't helping. It was far too lovely, mocking her pain.

there was real pain in the world, right this very moment people were suffering unimaginable atrocities and you couldn't close your heart completely, but you couldn't leave it wide open either, because otherwise how could you possibly live your life, when through pure, random luck you got to live in paradise? You

This Thursday night felt like adolescence: exquisitely painful and sharply beautiful.

Sometimes there was the pure, primal pain of grief, and other times there was anger, the frantic desire to claw and hit and kill, and sometimes, like right now, ther was just ordinary, dull sadness, settling itself softly, suffocatingly over her like a heave fog. She was just so damned sad.

Brooke was meant to avoid stress because of her migraines, not chase it, but she'd always been a martyr. Amy remembered Brooke as a little girl, high pigtails and reflective sunglasses.