Quotes About Pain

Caring was dangerous. Caring hurt.

Everything hurts." Only Grayson Hawthorne could say that and still sound utterly bulletproof. "It hurts all the time, Avery, but I know the man I was raised to be.

Caroline: 'You know Sora. I don't. It will hurt you. It won't hurt me. Nothing hurts me.' Lake: 'Liar. Just breathing hurts you so bad, you want to beat the snot out of something.

When you're hurting, you hurt yourself.

Ouch!" The manicurist who'd just relieved me of part of my cuticle submerged my feet in bubbling water. Hot water. "Oh, hush," Lily said. "It feels good. Beauty is pain." "Pain," I gritted out, "is also pain.

She loved him. It hurt to love him, and she loved him anyway.He left her, and she loved him anyway.

I looked down at my hands, unable to meet her eyes. My wrists were still angry and red. The raw skin looked how I felt.

It was never just the idea of you, Avery." I tried not to feel like the ground was suddenly moving underneath my feet. "You hated the idea of me." "But not you." The words were just as sweet, just as painful. "Never you.

Without order, there is chaos. Without order, there is pain. The wheel turns. Lives are forfeit. Seven masters. Seven ways of killing.

I felt... numb wasn't the right word. My mouth was too dry. My heart was beating too fast. I hurt, but it felt like I was hurting from a distance.

This family--we destroy everything we touch.

Grief is a monster.

But the ultimate aim of it all—what is it? To sustain ephemeral and tormented individuals through a short span of life, in the most fortunate case with endurable want and comparative freedom from pain, which, however, is at once attended with ennui; then the reproduction of this race and its striving.

I am broken. I am a fraud. I am impossible to love.

Disguise the pain. Don't call attention. Don't be noticed.

The cadence of suffering has begun - Cesare Pavese I am in pieces.

I'm a fuckup. I'm broken, and no one can fix it.

This is what I know about loss: - It doesn't get better. You just (somewhat) get used to it. - You never stop missing the people who go away. - For something that isn't there anymore, it weighs a ton.

I hate you. If only I'd known. If only I'd been enough . I let you down. I wish I could have done something. I should have done something. Was it my fault? Why wasn't I enough? Come back. I love you. I'm sorry.

In case you haven't noticed, we're already involved, Finch. And in case you haven't noticed, I'm broken too.

Suddenly I'm having one of those moments that you have after losing someone—when you feel as if you've been kicked in the stomach and all your breath is gone, and you might never get it back. I want to sit down on the dirty, littered ground right now and cry until I can't cry anymore.

I know there's more in there, probably years of shit you've been smiling away and keeping down.

The fact is, I was sick, but not in an easily explained flu kind of way. It's my experience that people are a lot more sympathetic if they can see you hurting, and for the millionth time in my life I wish for measles or smallpox or some other recognizable disease just to make it simple for me and also for them. Anything would be better than the truth.

I'm broken, and no one can fix it. I've tried. I'm still trying. I can't love anyone because it's not fair to anyone who loves me back. I'll never hurt you... But I can't promise I won't pick you apart, piece by piece, until you're in a thousand pieces just like me.