Quotes About Pain

There were no tears in her. The wound went too deep, or she was not so constituted to give way to it. Hers would be the perpetual ache of loss and loneliness, slowly dulled with time until it became a part of her character, a faint sourness tinged with withered pride.

There was some people hurt far worst than I was in that hospital, let me tell you. Poor old boys with arms and legs and hands and who knows what else missing. Boys what had been shot in their stomach and chests and faces. At night the place sound like a torture chamber - them fellers be howling and crying and calling for their mamas.

A breakup is like a broken mirror . It is better to leave it alone than hurt yourself trying to fix it .

Ich kann nicht beten:"laß mir sie!"und doch kommt sie mir oft als die Meine vor. Ich kann nicht beten:"gib mir sie!"denn sie ist eines andern. Ich witzle mich mit meinen Schmerzen herum; wenn ich mir's nachließe, es gäbe eine ganze Litanei von Antithesen.

When people get hurt,they learn to hate...when people hurt others,they become hated and racked with guilt.But knowing that pain allows people to be kind.Pain allows people to grow...and how you grow is up to you.

To love is to suffer. To avoid suffering, one must not love. But, then one suffers from not loving. Therefore, to love is to suffer, not to love is to suffer, to suffer is to suffer. To be happy is to love, to be happy, then, is to suffer, but suffering makes one unhappy, therefore, to be unhappy one must love, or love to suffer, or suffer from too much happiness -- I hope you're getting this down.

I think if you have a comic perspective, almost anything that happens you tend to put through a comic filter. It's a way of coping in the short term, but has no long term effect and requires constant, endless renewal. Hence people talk of comics who are "always on." It's like constantly drugging your sensibility so you can get by with less pain.

That's essentially how I feel about life. Full of loneliness and misery and suffering and unhappiness, and it's all over much too quickly.

Life is full of misery, loneliness, and suffering - and it's all over much too soon.

To love is to suffer. To avoid suffering one must not love. But then one suffers from not loving. Therefore, to love is to suffer; not to love is to suffer; to suffer is to suffer. To be happy is to love. To be happy, then, is to suffer, but suffering makes one unhappy. Therefore, to be happy one must love or love to suffer or suffer from too much happiness.

Only an object can suffer, but phenomenally subject and object, being one whole, spin like a coin so that the intervals between pile et face (heads and tails) are imperceptible. Consequently pain, or pleasure, appear to be continual. Noumenally, on the contrary, there is no object to suffer pain or pleasure. Noumenon is invulnerable, and cannot be otherwise. Noumenon is the unmanifested aspect of what we, sentient beings, are: Phenomenon is our manifestation.

Normally, when one passes someone on the street who is in pain, one either tries to help him, or one simply looks the other way. With a photo there's no human decision; you're not there; you can't turn away; you simply gape. It's a form of voyeurism.

If you stick a knife in my back nine inches and pull it out six inches, there's no progress. If you pull it all the way out that's not progress. Progress is healing the wound that the blow made. And they haven't even pulled the knife out much less heal the wound. They won't even admit the knife is there.

No es en la cama donde una madre, embriagada de felicidad por el nacimiento de su hijo, olvida sus dolores? Es ahí donde los fantásticos gozos, producto de la imaginación y la esperanza, vienen a agitarnos. En fin, es en este mueble delicioso que olvidamos durante la mitad de la vida los pesares de la otra mitad

Mira, me duele aquí, entre el hígado, el corazón y el amor propio, ¿cómo no voy a pinche guacarear, si tengo putas náuseas en el alma?

Because it's the pain that brings me pleasure It's that torment that I treasure It's the suffering that keeps me alive It's in this misery that I thrive

Broken down, beaten in again Feel the pain, lose control Bent around, lie and sin All in vain, lost my soul Can I pick myself up again? Just to fall again, lost in sin.

I'm sure it must have been even more wonderful then, when we were young and knew nothing about the pain of growing up.

I have to make do with a hollow heart full of holes.

I was afraid that if she went on much longer, her fingers would scrape away my skin, rip my flesh, crush my bones. The pillow was damp with saliva, and I wanted to scream.

Any kind of uncertainty caused him pain, so we were determined to hide the time that had passed and the memories he'd lost.

We made the zero, through great pain and struggle.

Jealousy seems to make me suffer in the most unexpected ways.

And even if a memory disappears completely, the heart retains something. A slight tremor or pain, some bit of joy, a tear.