Quotes About Pain

Being alone, you see, is the worst of hell's punishments.

He feels that today he has developed a kinship with grief and trauma and nurses' asses.

And often the worst thing wasn't the victims—they were dead, after all, and beyond any more pain. The worst thing was those who'd loved them and survived them. Often the walking dead from now on, shell-shocked, hearts ruptured, stumbling through the remainder of their lives without anything left inside of them but blood and organs, impervious to pain, having learned nothing except that the worst things did, in fact, sometimes happen.

I will not dream anymore, you said. I will not set myself up for the pain. But then your team made the playoffs, or you saw a movie, or a billboard glowing dusky orange and advertising Aruba, or a girl who bore more than a passing resemblance to a woman you'd dated in high school— a woman you'd loved and lost— danced above you with shimmering eyes, and you said, fuck it, let's dream just one more time.

Ora si chieda, come da il dolore a entrare nel corpo? -Dipende da dove ti fai male. -No. Non ha nulla a che vedere con la carne. Il cervello spedisce segnali neurali attraverso il sistema nervoso. Il cervello controlla il dolore. Controlla la paura. Il sonno. L'empatia. La fame. Tutto ciò che associamo al cuore o all'anima o al sistema nervoso in realtà è controllato dal cervello. Tutto.

Everyone has been wounded. It is almost inevitable that our parents will wound us in some way. If we are not wounded by our parents, we may be wounded by the death or illness of a parent or sibling, by a bitter marriage or bitter divorce, or if our immediate family is close to idyllic, we might be wounded by some other adult who abuses us or peers who mock us. An unscarred childhood is possible but very rare.

Human beings want to be happy, and they have a right to want to be. Far from being a selfish or ignoble goal, this is one of the distinguishing features of human beings. To the extent that animals can be said to want anything, what they want is to avoid pain and to be sated, but not to be happy.

Suffering is no guarantee of empathy and the decent behavior it engenders. When people emerge from pain and oppression, they have two options: they can use their anger over their suffering to legitimize their oppression of others; or they can use the memory of their pain to empathize with others. Suffering ennobles only those who want to be ennobled by it.

If we identify having fun with happiness, we will identify the opposite of fun, pain, with unhappiness. However, because no happiness is possible without pain, the attempt always to avoid it by having fun as much as possible makes happiness impossible

Many people seem to want this epitaph: "I led as painless a life as possible." But the purpose of life is not to avoid pain. That is the purpose of an animal's life—but animals cannot know happiness.

The choice is yours: do you want as pain-free a life as possible, or do you want as life-filled a life as possible? The two are mutually exclusive. "No pain, no gain" is not only true for developing a good body; it is equally true for developing a good life.

Aggravation or stress kills—as do many other things in life, such as cigarettes. But stress is worse than cigarettes. Cigarettes at least give some pleasure before they cause the premature death of about one out of every three smokers. Aggravation, on the other hand, only provides pain and probably kills more people than cigarettes.

It breaks my heart to love you.

I had come with such pain and labour to a place where emptiness had arrived before me. I was too late, something black and hollow had overtaken me and wriggled through the door.

The dilemma is awesome. But it has to be faced. Should you battle on, take the pain, endure the indignities, and await the inevitable end, which may be days, weeks, or months away? Or should you take control of the situation and resort to some form of euthanasia, which in its modern-language definition has come to mean "help with a good death"?

Self-destruction by hanging is almost always an act of protest, a desire to shock and hurt someone. Therefore, believers in euthanasia avoid it. Even if the job of cutting down the body is left to the police or paramedics, this is an unacceptably selfish way to die, and I have never heard of a euthanasia supporter using it. Unless the neck is broken by the rope jerking the fall to a stop (as a professional hangman arranges), then it is death by strangulation, often not so quick.

The fist clenched round my heart loosens a little, and I gasp brightness; but it tightens again. When have I ever not loved the pain of love? But this has moved past love to mania. This has the strong clench of the madman, this is gripping the ledge of unreason, before plunging howling into the abyss. Hold hard then, heart. This way at least you live.

Life would be just a neutral wasteland if one always ran away from the joys of love merely because one knew that pain and grief might be involved too.

Giving the emotion a name is the way we come to understand how what happened affected us. After we've told the facts of what happened, we must face our feelings. We are each hurt in our own unique ways, and when we give voice to this pain, we begin to heal it.

When we ignore the pain, it grows bigger and bigger, and like an abscess that is never drained, eventually it will rupture. When that happens, it can reach into every area of our lives—our health, our families, our jobs, our friendships, our faith, and our very ability to feel joy may be diminished by the fallout from resentments, anger, and hurts that are never named.

Forgiveness does not mean that we pretend things are anything other than they are. I am hurt, we say. I am betrayed, we announce. I am in pain and grief. I have been treated unfairly. I am feeling ashamed. I am angry this has been done to me. I am sad and I am lost. I may never forget what you have done to me, but I will forgive. I will do everything in my power not to let you harm me again. I will not retaliate against you or against myself.

The process we embarked on through the TRC was, as all real growth proves to be, astoundingly painful and profoundly beautiful.

I gave you justice, it said, as I was taught it. And I gave you mercy , too, so far as I could. While I could not spare you pain and humiliation, I make you a gift of my own pains and humiliations, that yours might be easier to bear.

No wonder men got impervious to superficial pain, I thought. It came from this habit of hammering each other incessantly.