Quotes About Pain

Miss me?" he whispered, giving me the once-over, eyes lingering on my chest. My heart skipped a beat. My glyph pulsed painfully. "Like a urinary tract infection," I said, through gritted teeth.

It's much easier to destroy a life than it is to live one.'

Passion, pain, what's at hand—these are doorways to finding a purpose beyond material acquisition.

You think your muscles hurt? Try a blade in the belly.

At first, the pinpricks felt like hot fly bites down the soft white skin over her spine and along her shoulders. The first time Rina flinched, the mage had admonished her harshly. She hadn't moved again.

I've even heard of a guy whose chronic migraine was cured by a bullet to the head. The craziest part of it was that he had actually set out to commit suicide by shooting himself in the head because of the headaches which had persistently refused to yield to treatment

Blame is just an echo of pain, a veil across the face of the one you blame. I blame God. I want to complain to the boss of God about God. What if the boss of God is rain and the only way to speak to rain is to open your mouth to the sky and drown?

She switched places with her shadow because suffering changes shape and happens secretly.

I know the heart doesn't really shatter, but I also can no longer feel it.

Depression is a glove over the heart. Depression is an image of a glove over the image of a heart.

The way grief is really about future absence. The way the future closes its offices when a mother dies. What's left: a hole in the ground the size of violence.

The artist is only visiting pain, imagining it. We praise the artist, not the apple, not the apple's shadow, which is murdered slowly. There must be some way of drawing a picture so that it doesn't become an elegy.

The way grief is really about future absence.

Handsome husbands often make a wife's heart ache.

All paths cause pain, so to chose the safe over the audacious will not give you less pain, only less beauty.

Beauty that arose out of pain.

Beauty is ever to the lonely mind a shadow fleeting; she is never plain. She is a visitor who leaves behind the gift of grief, the souvenir of pain.

Beauty without the beloved is a like a sword through the heart.

We are the spirit, the collective conscience. We create the pain, and suffering, and beauty in this world.

Listening to other people's needs is listening to God. Noticing simple, natural beauty, hearing music, even confronting the challenge of pain and problems - that can all be listening to God too.

I cried over beauty, I cried over pain, and the other time I cried because I felt nothing. I can't help it. I'm just a cliché of myself.

I felt beauty was a magnet for abuse, and I had suffered greatly for it.

Whats beauty anyway but ugliness if it hurts you?

Mortal beauty stings while it delights.