Quotes About Pain

FINCH : Day 75 "The cadence of suffering has begun."-Cesare Pavese I am in pieces.

I Am In Pieces

I am broken and no one can fix it

Life is an accumulation of aches. They fill you up and take your breath away and you think you'll never breathe again, but before you know it, you are just words on paper, gone quiet and asleep until someone finds those words and reads them.

Loss does that, hits you out of the blue. You can be in the car or in class or at the movies, laughing and having a good time, and suddenly it's as if someone has reached directly into the wound and squeezed with all their might.

Jealousy is a mean, unpleasant feeling that only eats you from inside

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.

They were so young, so gloriously, obliviously young, that it hurt to look at them.

Tears do not burn except in solitude.

And that wreched creature without hands or feet, who had to be put to bed and fed like a child, that pitiable remnant of a man, whose almost vanished life was nothing more than one scream of pain, cried out in furious indignation: 'What a fool one must be to go and kill oneself!' - 'Joy of Life

Nothing could be more heart rending than this mute and motionless dispair

A horribly bitter taste came into his mouth: the futility of everything, the eternal pain of existence.

Pero es que no ve lo que estoy sufriendo?... Que estupidez, ¿verdad? ¡Sufro como un niño!

il la tuait de ses caresses, après l'avoir rouée de coups.

Oui, tout son mal venait de ce rire qu'il avait bu.

Dios mío! ¡Si es que la quiero! ¡Es que la quiero! ¿Por qué se complace en martilizarme de este modo?

From then on, the pavement of Plassans burned his feet. He was seen prowling on the promenades like a soul in pain. Then he decided suddenly, he left for Paris.

suffering unspeakable torture at the thought of leaving his picture as it was, disfigured by an ugly, gaping wound. (49)

Odda?am mu serce, a on je zdepta? i odrzuci?.

Treachery and violence are spears pointed at both ends; they wound those who resort to them worse than their enemies.

I hate him for himself, but despise him for the memories he revives.

Existence, after losing her, would be hell

I have no pity! I have no pity! The more worms writhe, the more I yearn to crush out their entrails! It is a moral teething, and I grind with greater energy, in proportion to the increase of pain.

People feel with their hearts, Ellen: and since he has destroyed mine, I have not power to feel for him.