Quotes About Pain

Pleasure is oft a visitant; but pain Clings cruelly to us.

The feel of not to feel it, When there is none to heal it Nor numbed sense to steel it, Was never said in rhyme.

O aching time! O moments big as years!

Can death be sleep, when life is but a dream, And scenes of bliss pass as a phantom by? The transient pleasures as a vision seem, And yet we think the greatest pain's to die.

The air I breathe in a room empty of you is unhealthy.

Everything that reminds me of her goes through me like a spear.

Knowing well that my life must be passed in fatigue and and trouble, I have been endeavouring to wean myself from you: for to myself alone what can be much of a misery? As far as they regard myself I can despise all events: but I cannot cease to love you.

O, the sweetness of the pain! Give me those lips again! Enough! Enough! It is enough for me To dream of thee!

I left poor Scylla in a niche and fled. My fever'd parchings up, my scathing dread Met palsy half way: soon these limbs became 640 Gaunt, wither'd, sapless, feeble, cramp'd, and lame.

But, for the general award of love, The little sweet doth kill much bitterness;

My heart aches, a drowsy numbness pains as if of hemlock I had drunk.

How is it Shadows! that I knew ye not? How came ye muffled in so hush a mask? Was it a silent deep-disguised plot To steal away, and leave without a task My idle days? Ripe was the drowsy hour; The blissful cloud of summer-indolence Benumbed my eyes; my pulse grew less and less; Pain had no sting, and pleasure's wreath no flower: O why did ye not melt, and leave my sense Unhaunted quite of all but—nothingness?

Optimism nauseates me. It is perverse. Since man's fall, his proper position in the universe has been one of misery.

God is a concept by which we measure our pain.

Ah, yes, divorce, from the Latin word meaning to rip out a man's genitals through his wallet. ROBIN WILLIAMS

Before dentists' chairs were invented, the patient's head was clenched between the surgeon's knees.

Henry James described the Hopkins as a place where, despite "the immensities of pain" one thought of "fine poetry . . . and the high beauty of applied science. . . . Grim human alignments became, in their cool vistas, delicate symphonies in white. . . . Doctors ruled, for me, so gently, the whole still concert.

He hurt everywhere, so at least he must be alive. Another comforting thought because, despite everything, he wanted to be alive. It was the business of living he wanted nothing to do with.

emerged, the puncture wounds they'd caused oozing blood onto the straw.

And that must end us, that must be our cure: To be no more. Sad cure! For who would lose, Though full of pain, this intellectual being, Those thoughts that wander through eternity, To perish, rather, swallowed up and lost In the wide womb of uncreated night Devoid of sense and motion?

Is it true, O Christ in heaven, that the highest suffer the most? That the strongest wander furthest and most hopelessly are lost? That the mark of rank in nature is capacity for pain? That the anguish of the singer makes the sweetness of the strain?

When you learn your lessons, the pain goes away.

All great spirituality is about what we do with our pain. If we do not transform our pain, we will transmit it to those around us.

Emotional abuse is like being continuously kicked in the shins. It can be worse than getting one punch in the face, and it cements itself.