Quotes About Pain

Palabras que anulan, que hieren, que nos han marcado a ella y a mí y nos han ido envenenando.

I would have thought that you'd be tired of vomiting blood and going to therapy and the prospect of being a nervous wreck all your life. Trés masochistic.

Yoyo said to me recently, 'Love and pain, that's what families are, and they fit together like this'--he slotted the tips of our fingers together--'like cogs.' Then he smiled and put a hand on my swollen belly. 'And what makes these cogs turn is hope, of course.

I'm so angry,' she said. 'I was all right until you came back. I'd given up. So many terrible things. Relatives, neighbors disappearing. Opa. The bloody Germans coming to...to strip us bare. Oma's silence. Bam, bam, bam. Like being punched over and over again. You get numb. It doesn't hurt anymore. Unless you start to hope. That's the trick, you see: you can take anything unless you start to hope.

The glance embroiders in joy, knits in pain, and sews in boredom. When indifferent, the eye takes stills, when interested, movies. Laughter is regional: a smile extends over the whole face.

How alike are the groans of love, to those of the dying.

Her father is dead. . . . Now she must never mention his name again. No one will ever mention his name. She must try not to think about him. He is dead.

This horror of pain is a rather low instinct and... if I think of human beings I've known and of my own life, such as it is, I can't recall any case of pain which didn't, on the whole, enrich life.

Rare is the Stalin-like individual, who lacks empathy and who seems to take pleasure in inflicting pain or watching pain inflicted to others; common is the -virtuous citizen acting in the name of righteous causes-.

To me, the thing that is worse than death is betrayal. You see, I could conceive death, but I could not conceive betrayal.

We do not always allow ourselves to work through pain. More often than not, we think pain is a signal that we must stop, rather than find its source. Our souls do not like stagnation. Our souls aspire toward growth, that is, toward remembering all that we have forgotten due to our trip to this place, the earth. In this context, a body in pain is a soul in longing.

You trample on hearts as if they're grapes and you're making wine.

My rear end was blood-raw from my so called brilliant ideas rebounding on me.

you experience the one thing that drunks and druggies and all the miserable, lonely, unhappy people in this world share.' 'And what's that?

If you'd slapped me or punched me or even stabbed me, sooner or later it would have stopped hurting.

Someone told me once that men are doomed to learn through pain until they can find a way to learn through joy.

Gott wird besser geehrt, wenn wir das Leben, das er uns gegeben hat, in allen seinen Werten kennen und ausschöpfen und lieben und darum auch den Schmerz über beeinträchtigte oder verlorene Lebenswerte stark und aufrichtig empfinden.

No one forgets his pain, that's a lie. It's buried there in memory and remains in you forever.

Agony does not vanish with time. Time does not heal. Time may wear away the sharper pangs of torment and it may be that the agony is a remembered agony, but the littlest remembrance brings vividly alive the reality of pain. Time sifts a little dust over the wounds that is blown away by the simplest reminder. Agony remains.

There's nothing comfortable about love.

Comme si c'était pas déjà suffisant de crever, il faut encore se cogner les angoisses de ceux que les métastases laissent provisoirement de côté...

Appoggiata alla mia spalla sei la mia ala destra. Come se tu spiegassi le tue tenere nere penne, m'innalzan le tue parole a un candidissimo cielo. Esultanza. Silenzio. Seduto ora al mio tavolo, mi sanguina la spalla, la tua assenza mi duole.

Desencanto Eu faço versos como quem chora De desalento... de desencanto... Fecha o meu livro, se por agora Não tens motivo nenhum de pranto. Meu verso é sangue. Volúpia ardente... Tristeza esparsa... remorso vão... Dói-me nas veias. Amargo e quente, Cai, gota a gota, do coração. E nestes versos de angústia rouca Assim dos lábios a vida corre, Deixando um acre sabor na boca. - Eu faço versos como quem morre.

Hay maletas llenas de miedo y maletas llenas de dolor. Han sido mi equipaje en la vida…