Quotes About Pain

In fact, it's got more punctures than a blind dressmaker's thumb.

When an innocent man suddenly dies, God laughs. God gave the world to the wicked. He made all the judges blind, And if God didn't do it, who did? If I smile and try to forget my pain, All my suffering comes back to haunt me; I know that God does hold me guilty. Since I am held guilty, why should I bother? No soap can wash away my sins.

You can never get to a person's mind. You cannot know the different deeds and missions of happiness; you can't tell a screm of pleasure from one of pain. Sometimes, we can barely read pain. Neither a barometer nor a guide, pain can mislead us. Even in the body, the laws of chain reactions can be false. This is why people always want a second opinion.

When I wake, a piece of sharp green glass on the floor is cutting into my hand and I know it's a sign. I etch a letter on my hand; put it on top so I can see the jagged edges bleeding out; S. S is for sorrow, for all I don't say. S is for sick now, my punishing ways.

I guess a lot of players got this story to tell No matter how cold you roll you simply cannot win It's always fun in the beginning But pain in the end —ICE, "PAIN

started to ask some hard questions of myself. All this death, all this pain—was there a higher purpose behind it? Was it God's way of making me feel the destruction I'd caused within someone else's family?

Hit your hand on a stone and expect it to hurt.

Golpéate tu mano en una piedra y espera que duela.

We are the inheritors of a wonderful world, a beautiful world, full of life and mystery, goodness and pain. But likewise are we the children of an indifferent universe. We break our own hearts imposing our moral order on what is, by nature, a wide web of chaos.

My dear Prue, we are the inheritors of a wonderful world, a beautiful world, full of life and mystery, goodness and pain. But likewise are we children of an indifferent universe. We break our own hearts imposing our moral order on what is, by nature, a wide web of chaos. It is a hopeless task.

My dear Prue, we are the inheritors of a wonderful world, a beautiful world, full of life and mystery, goodness and pain. But likewise are we the children of an indifferent universe. We break our own hearts imposing our moral order on what is, by nature, a wide web of chaos. It is a hopeless task.

Prue felt like someone had bored a hole in her stomach the size of a basketball

Struggle and pain aren't something to fear. We will all face trials while here on earth. What matters is how we're dealing with the challenges that come our way. Do we let them mold us into stronger, better people, or do we grouse and complain about our lot in life?

Saying his name stabbed my heart, like someone had ripped through my carefully stitched up world and exposed the infected, pulsing red tissue that I thought was healing.

Everybody has pain and so, in that, I am no way unique, but it is my role to tell the world of the pains of the people.

Your pain defines you. Furthermore, those who are cushioned from pain are further from their truth than any other soul.

Melancholia i smutek s? ju? pocz?tkiem zw?tpienia; zw?tpienie jest pocz?tkiem rozpaczy; rozpacz jest okrutnym pocz?tkiem szeregu stopni prowadz?cych ku z?u.

Qui donc, sur la tête, me donne des coups de barre de fer, comme un marteau frappant l'enclume?

Everything gets better with time; how much time is up to us. It's dependent on when we choose to change the stories we tell about our lives; when we decide to spend more time creating the life we want than lamenting the hand we've been dealt; and when we realize that no one's love, forgiveness, or acceptance can be as profoundly healing as our own. Maybe if I stopped trying to control how I hurt, I'd feel a pain that would teach me what I need to do to love life more and need pain less.

I've cried, and you'd think I'd be better for it, but the sadness just sleeps, and it stays in my spine the rest of my life.

We were all born of flesh, in a flare of pain. We do not remember the red roots whence we rose, but we know that we rose and walked, that after a while we shall lie down again.

Once more we turn in pain, bewildered, Among our finite walls: The walls we built ourselves with patient hands; For the god who sealed a question in our flesh.

To see the death as our own, that is the beginning of wisdom. To find the loss as our own, that is the beginning of respect for others. To feel the pain as our own, that is the beginning of kindness.

Ernest Hemingway once advised prose artists to 'Write hard and clear about what hurts.