Quotes About Pain

There is no pathos in real misery, no luxury in real grief.

Night's heart is full of pity for us: she cannot ease our aching; she takes our hand in hers, and the little world grows very small and very far away beneath us, and, borne on her dark wings, we pass for a moment into a mightier Presence than her own, and in the wondrous light of that great Presence, all human life lies like a book before us, and we know that Pain and Sorrow are but the angels of God.

presero posto con un sospiro e con l'espressione tipica dei primi martiri cristiani quando cercavano di mettersi comodi contro il palo del supplizio.

Ser pobre é detalhe sem importância. Ser conhecido por ser pobre é que dói.

nu înc?pea îndoial? c? prezentam toate simptomele, cel mai important fiind totala lips? de poft? pentru orice fel de activitate. N-am cuvinte s? v? spun cât suf?r în aceast? privin??. Am fost un martir din cea mai fraged? copil?rie.

In her diary entry of June 15, the day her husband died , Vicky (Victoria, Princess Royal of England, wife of Frederick III German Emperor) wondered, 'why does pain not kill immediately?

what about a person who has failed at the only important task ever given him, someone responsible for the deaths of ones he loves and the driving of others into the darkness?

How can you hate somebody who's got one foot in hell itself?

All pain we experience is intended to move us closer to the goal of being holy as He is holy.

I don't understand women at all. Like how a women can pour boiling hot wax onto their upper thigh, then rip the hair out by the root... and still be afraid of a spider.

Pain is knowledge rushing in to fill a void with great speed

I'm so dopesick, my tears taste like urine. It's as if the air itself were made of broken glass. I try to stop twitching. To stay still, to stop my very breath, let the pain stay inside. The slightest movement grinds tiny shards into my pores. Breathing is like gulping from a bag of claws. I want to die. Want to pass out. Want to stop...this...fucking...feeling.

it's not what people do, it's what they don't tell you they do. That's what hurts. That's what you think about when the television signs off and you're still bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

Nothing ever turns me on so much in a woman as unhappiness.

Someone jabbed me from behind with a rake. I jumped aside. Someone else pricked me with a sharp prong. Again I sprang away, crying loudly. The crowd became more lively. A stone struck me. I lay down, face to the earth, not wishing to know what might happen next. My head was being bombarded with dried cow dung, moldy potatoes, apple cores, handfuls of dirt, and small stones. I covered my face with my hands and screamed into the dust which covered the road.

One time we attended a child with a rotting leg, covered with wrinkled brown skin, from which a bloody yellow pus oozed. The stench from the leg was so strong that even Olga had to open the door every few moments and let in a draft of fresh air. All day long I stared at the gangrenous leg while the child alternately sobbed and fell asleep.

You'll recognize those men, the ones inclined to their dark side, because they'll expect you to carry their load. They'll smother your anger with their pain, they'll make you doubt yourself, and they'll tell you they love you the whole time.

But Gloria kept her eyes trained on me, kept gripping my face. "You'll recognize those men, the ones inclined to their dark side, because they'll expect you to carry their load. They'll smother your anger with their pain, they'll make you doubt yourself, and they'll tell you they love you the whole time. Some do it big, like Ed, but most do it in quiet steps, like your father.

Better to feel the pain now, my dad had told me that day I'd fallen off my bike, than suffer the infection later.

The truth hurts only if you're comforted by lies.

In fact, he talked about his painful and insidious cancer so plainly and without affect that to this day, I consider matter-of-factness a form of courage.

And what she loved about Lydia's play: that it gets at this idea that true sacrifice is painless.

Sometimes it was like a deep ache, the simple act of breathing in and out.

You need songs that make you feel. Some make you string, some make you weak. Some build determination, some tear you apart. But you need all of those...Run through the pain.