Quotes About Pain

One of the stupidest mistake in life is thinking that the person who hurt you won't hurt you again.

The most painful truth can be the most important truth. Accept it, it can change your life.

The key to overcoming the pain in your life is to realize that though pain is something that is inevitably a part of life, we have the choice of whether we are going to wallow in it and suffer, or move on from it, and do our best to let it go.

Behind everything beautiful, there has been some kind of pain.

Perhaps it is the greatest grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone.

The room turned gray, then white. The bed felt cold without him, and too large. I heard no sounds, and the stillness frightened me. It is like a tomb. I rose and rubbed my limbs, slapped them awake, trying to ward off a rising hysteria. This is what it will be, every day, without him. I felt a wild-eyed tightness in my chest, like a scream. Every day, without him.

They would both have run screaming at the first tooth. They cannot bear any pain at all. They are not like us.

My hands were cut almost to blood by jagged shards of rock. My feet left stains where they stepped. The pain was welcome, ordinary and clean. So easy to bear it was laughable.

It had never truly been anger, only fear and sorrow.

I lay on the dirt, weeping. Those flowers had made him his true being, which was blue, and finned, and not mine. I thought I would die of such pain, which was not like the sinking numbness Aeëtes had left behind, but sharp and fierce as a blade through my chest. But of course I could not die.

A dozen times grief had scorched, but its fire had never burned through my skin.

All those years of pain and wandering. Why? For a moment's pride. He would rather be cursed by the gods than be No one.

There was an ache in my stomach, like hunger or despair.

All around me are men carrying fallen comrades, limping on makeshift crutches, or crawling through the sand, dragging broken limbs behind them. I know them—their torsos full of scars my ointments have packed and sealed. Their flash that my fingers have cleaned or iron and bronze and blood. Their faces that have joked, thanked, grimaced as I worked over them. Now these men are ruined again, pulpy with blood and split bone. Because of him. Because of me.

Every moment felt like a drop of my blood lost.

Me tendí de espaldas e intenté no pensar en el paso de los minutos. En el día de ayer los teníamos en abundancia y ahora cada uno era como una gota de sangre perdida.

Adesso ogni minuto era una goccia di sangue e amore che andava persa.

E dopotutto forse il dolore più grande è quello di chi viene lasciato da solo sulla terra. Non credi?

Il dolore più grande è quello di chi viene lasciato da solo sulla terra.

La culpa me inmovilizaba en la cama como si se tratara de un ancla. Solo me hizo mover el recuerdo hiriente de Quirón. «No renuncies a las cosas con tanta facilidad como hiciste una vez».

It was a sort of rage, a knife I used upon myself. I did it to prove my skin was still my own.

Sus heridas hasta ese momento habían sido superficiales y siempre había habido alguien para ofrecerle consuelo. Ahora estaba sola en el gabinete de su dolor.

La pena creció en mi interior hasta que estuvo a punto de ahogarme. «Su muerte». Solo de pensarlo me sentía morir, caía en picado a través de un cielo absolutamente negro.

War breeds many sins (…)