Quotes About Pain

It hurts now, but I'll love this memory, I thought to myself. And I do.

In my opinion the misappropriation of the longing for God has caused a lot of people a great deal of pain. In fact, I wondered if some of my early mistakes in relationships weren't partly because I sought to find resolution for the longing through a woman, a burden no romantic partner should have to bear. How many relationships have been ruined by two people attempting to squeeze the Jesus out of each other?

joy costs pain.

Pain then, if one could have faith in something greater than himself, might be a path to experiencing a meaning beyond the false gratification of personal comfort.

Pain can serve a purpose if we cause it to. Again, while we do not have power over all that happens in the world, we do have power over our perspective. We can choose to take unfair and undue pain and cause it to serve our own story so that we become better. So that we transform.

We have a new medicine for migraine headaches.

I'm on my feet all day at work, so by 5:00 p.m. my lower back is usually aching. I wore XYZ shoes for the first time, and by 5:00 p.m. I felt like I could do another shift without blinking. I haven't felt this good in ten years.

The first section of the website told our customers what their lives could look like if they purchased our product or service. Let's make the second section of our website speak to the current pain our customers are experiencing because they haven't bought our products yet.

Our desire to avoid pain motivates us to seek a resolution to our problems.

At our workshops, I teach that in a story there must always be pain and conflict, and yet when we talk about painful things in our marketing it can feel a little heavy. But don't be tricked into telling a boring story.

What pain are you helping customers avoid? What pain are they currently dealing with that will be ended if they buy your products or service? Some examples are:

What pain or problems are you helping your customers avoid? List the pain points and challenges you resolve in the section below:

Here's the truth about telling stories with your life. It's going to sound like a great idea, and you are going to get excited about it, and then when it comes time to do the work, you're not going to want to do it. It's like that with writing books, and it's like that with life. People love to have lived a great story, but few people like the work it takes to make it happen. But joy costs pain.

misery, though seemingly ridiculous, indicates life itself has the potential of meaning, and therefore pain itself must also have meaning.

but all that you will have now, and for the rest of your lives, is loss and pain and the terrible sense that you somehow failed this boy. And no matter how deep your knowledge that you were not responsible for it, your certainty that you were will always be deeper and more absolute.

When you're in pain, you need to think of something so that at least part of you can be free of the pain, so that your mind can go somewhere where there's no pain.

When he thought about it, it seemed to Brunetti that what he did when he came here was similar to what a person who was going to experience physical pain—an injection, exposure to sharp cold—did with his body: he tensed his muscles and concentrated, to the exclusion of all other sensation, on resisting that anticipated pain. But, instead of tightening his muscles, Brunetti found himself, if such a thing could be said to be, tightening his soul.

The thought of her gave me such a continual anguish that I could no more forget her than an aching tooth. It was involuntary, hopeless, compulsive. For years she had been the first thing I remembered when I woke up, the last thing that drifted through my mind as I went to sleep, and during the day she came to me obtrusively, obsessively, always with a painful shock.

I missed her so much I wanted to die: a hard, physical longing, like a craving for air underwater.

There had been nights in the desert where I was so sick with laughter, convulsed and doubled over with aching stomach for hours on end, I would happily have thrown myself in front of a car to make it stop.

with a grief no less sharp for not being intimate with its object.

It is a terrible thing to learn as a child that one is a being separate from the world, that no one and no thing hurts along with one's burned tongues and skinned knees, that one's aches and pains are all one's own. Even more terrible, as we grow old, to learn that no person, no matter how beloved, can ever truly understand us.

Her photographs, lining the hall outside my bedroom-- many different Pippas, at many different ages-- were a daily torment, always expected, always new; but though I tried to keep my eyes away always it seemed I was glancing up by mistake and there she was, laughing at someone else's joke or smiling at someone who wasn't me, always a fresh pain, a blow straight to the heart.

For weeks, I'd been frozen, sealed-off; now, in the shower, I would turn up the water as hard as it would go and howl, silently. Everything was raw and painful and confusing and wrong and yet it was as if I'd been dragged from freezing water through a break in the ice, into sun and blazing cold.