Quotes About Pain

How the hell do I know? It just hurts me to think about it....And its not because you're a great lay. Though you are. But I've had great lays before, and I didn't get torn up. You should have known it would come down to this." Garrett

Gilgi is drifting in the river of superfluous feelings. Superfluous? They were once, they seemed to be once. Isn't she happy? Of course she is. Often. But the hours of happiness come at a high price. The bill is presented promptly. Pay it! With what? With fear and twinges of pain. No, I don't think the price is too high, I just find the currency strange. Fear - pain! To whom should I pay them? Who profits from this odd currency?

Your own toothache always hurts more than someone else's broken leg.

There's no love without pain.

He had been standing still; for an artist, one of the more painful forms of death.

Why does a man spend fifty years of his life in an occupation that is often painful? I once told a class I was teaching that writing is an intellectual contact sport, similar in some respects to football. The effort required can be exhausting, the goal unreached, and you are hurt on almost every play; but that doesn't deprive a man or a boy from getting peculiar pleasures from the game.

The wrecked mess of flesh had to hurt like hell and I was just starting to feel a little sympathy for Kujima when some distant corner of my brain sent me a reminder that he'd shot me, beaten me and was about to light me on fire.

There is a land of pure delight,Where saints immortal reign;Infinite day excludes the night,And pleasures banish pain.

In the sky there are always answers and explanations for everything: every pain, every suffering, joy and confusion.

Dhe nuk ka asgjë më të tmerrshme se ëndrrat e thyera. Ato i gjejmë përgjatë gjithë rrugës, duke na gjakosur jo këmbët me të cilat i shkelim, por zemrën me të cilën i deshëm.

Sometimes it is hard to know what the truth is. And sometimes truth is pain. Easier to hide the truth and make a secret of it, than to face it. -Chapter 22, page 254

They ask me to write down all I remember of the Glory days. A hard thing, because there is so much of Sorrow in the telling.

Don't you understand that wanting does not belong here, because that is what wounds, and there is never an end to it.

True sorrows do not pass like clouds or inclement weather...Sorrows are absorbed over time, and you reshape yourself around them. How you absorb them makes you what you are for good or ill. I think the only true and right way is to take our sorrows into us bravely and wholly, knowing they will hurt, and accepting that sometimes pain is unavoidable. It is when grief is suppressed or hidden that it does harm

We all have a secret wound which we are fighting to avenge.

Tutti abbiamo una ferita segreta per riscattare la quale combattiamo.

El amor se reanudaba con una furia similar a la de la pelea. Era, en realidad, la misma cosa, pero Cósimo no entendía nada. –¿Por qué me haces sufrir? –Porque te amo. Ahora era él quien se enfadaba. –¡ No, no me amas! Quien ama quiere la felicidad, no el dolor. –Quien ama quiere sólo el amor, aun a costa del dolor. –Me haces sufrir adrede, entonces. –Sí, para ver si me amas.

he continues coming to this café every evening to see her, to open the old wound again, perhaps also to know who is walking her home this evening; and she comes to this café every evening perhaps deliberately to make him suffer, or perhaps hoping that the habit of suffering will become for him a habit like any other, that it will take on the flavor of the nothingness that has coated her mouth and her life for years.

Insomma, l'amore per questo suo elemento arboreo seppe farlo diventare, com'è di tutti gli amori veri, anche spietato e doloroso, che ferisce e recide per far ricrescere e dar forma.

Cosimo: Perché mi fai soffrire? - Viola: Perché ti amo. - Cosimo: No, non mi ami! Chi ama vuole la felicità, non il dolore. - Viola: Chi ama vuole solo l'amore, anche a costo del dolore. - Cosimo: Mi fai soffrire apposta, allora. - Viola: Si, per vedere se mi ami. Italo Calvino dal libro "Il barone rampante".

Ma, assorbito da quella musica, il suo grande dolore si coloriva, diveniva ancora più importante, pur facendosi semplice, puro, perché mondate d'ogni avvilimento.

V jedné jediné mali?kosti se s Augustou neshodujeme, a to v názoru, jak zacházet se zlobivými dÄ›tmi: já si myslím, že bolest dítÄ›te je ménÄ› d?ležitá než naÅ¡e a že je lepÅ¡í zp?sobit bolest dítÄ›ti, jestliže to dospÄ›lého uÅ¡etÃ…â"¢í velké mrzutosti, kdežto ona se domnívá, že jsme dítÄ› zplodili, a tak je musíme taky snáÅ¡et.

Certi accenti di quel colloquio echeggiarono nell'anima sua come il suono delle campane nel deserto; lungi, lungi, percorsero spazi vuoti enormi, li misurarono, riempiendoli improvvisamente tutti, rendendoli sensibili, distribuendovi abbondantemente gioia e dolore.

Egli la vide dinanzi a sé come su un altare, la personificazione del pensiero e del dolore e l'amò sempre, se amore è ammirazione e desiderio. Ella rappresentava tutto quello di nobile ch'egli in quel periodo avesse pensato od osservato.