Quotes About Pain

I tried to like it. For me, it was like being smacked around the head by a piece of IKEA furniture: it hurts, but you've got to admire the workmanship.

The patient says, "Doctor, it hurts when I do this." "Then don't do that!"

Humor is an escape, because you cannot think about your problems when you are trying to be funny; so, in essence, "being a humorist" gives you a valid excuse to hide from your pain.

If you can't joke about the most horrendous things in the world, what's the point of jokes? What's the point in having humor? Humor is to get us over terrible things.

The secret source of humor is not joy but sorrow.

You could take Vicodin, step out of the house, onto a freeway, have a truck hit you, and you'd say "My Bad!".

Humor is tragedy plus time.

Humor is the fastest, fleetest way of giving -it can change pain to joy in a mere millisecond.

When we realize finally that we aren't God's given children, we'll understand satire. Humor is really laughing off a hurt, grinning at misery.

What humor allows you to do is to let the past go with less pain. It's a healing element. It releases some of the pain from the shotgun wound.

I feel very very old. My hair hurts. I have buttocks all over my body and I can't even smoke properly any more. I don't have lungs, I just have two poppadoms in here.

Someone bent on suicide won't have much sense of humor left.

The humor is the sort born of ironic necessity; they use it to salve the wounds in insensitity.

Good news is, we're annoying him. Bad news is, we're all going to die painfully.

Pain is an inevitable part when you truly love.

The poet is a faker / Who's so good at his act / He even fakes the pain / Of pain he feels in fact.

I would have killed myself years ago if it weren't for the fact that I'm pretty sure death is the only thing more terrible than life.

A pigs and pain, until you really get to know 'em. Then he's a paid with the soul.

Breaking up is hard to do. But, bustin him in the head ain't that easy, either.

Yes, I could stop writing... But only after I shoot myself.

...flames moved towards himand dropped within-singed and marred his tender skin ...(the frightful plight tale)

God picked me to be his punching bag...so who am I suposed to pray to for mercy?

Human skin hisses like a rattlesnake when it burns.

I can still feel my legs, thanks for asking. My back's not even hurt that badly. Only as though I was just hit by a train.