Quotes About Pain

He loved her so much he felt his bones would break. Loving her was like lying in a bed of nettles, and the feel of her skin against his was the only balm, the only time the stinging stopped, while, for her, he was the warm bath she took to stave off the cold waterfall of Boaty's indifference.

Here's another thing: There are certain wounds that never heal, certain hurts that never leave you alone, like a broken bone that heals wrong and always twinges when it's about to rain.

Hell could be like this. ...It could be cold enough to sear the skin from your bones.

It was just a story about despair.

I had the idea that the world's so full of pain it must sometimes make a kind of singing. — Robert Hass, from "Faint Music," Sun Under Wood (HarperCollins, 1996)

It's not the story though, not the friend leaning toward you, saying "And then I realized—," which is the part of stories one never quite believes. I had the idea that the world's so full of pain it must sometimes make a kind of singing. And that the sequence helps, as much as order helps— First an ego, and then pain, and then the singing.

Sometimes pain is God's megaphone, his only way to get our attention.

Perhaps the pain you are in is about more than you. Maybe the pain is about God creating the level of a cry that can and will open a spring that generations to come will partake from and be refreshed by.

Tears will spring where woes are deep.

Sometimes the greatest fear and pain come from a sense of meaninglessness in life. Meaning is a choice, not a search, remember? A sense of meaninglessness is really, therefore, a call to let in higher awareness and truth.

Some assholes take a similar kind of pleasure in your pain. When they do something that generates a strong reaction from you—be it obsequious ass-kissing, effusive apologizing, trembling with fear, giving in to tears or anger, or sending that long and carefully worded email you spent an hour crafting in response to their imaginary emergency—the pleasure centers in their twisted minds light up.

Negative silence is the silence of a man in pain. Negative silence tells you that you are being the "wrong" silent type. Your silence keeps you locked in and others locked out. Your loyalty to an image and to your silence demands a high price. The silent son makes his monthly payments loyally, but he's never paid up; the quieter he becomes, the more he owes.

I have described to you why God must exist—or, at least, must have at one time existed—in mathematical terms that come as close to certainty as anything in science possibly could. And still you deny his existence." The pain was growing worse. It would subside, of course. "Yes," I said. "I deny God's existence.

Y vuelves a atrapar mi tristeza para esconderla en tu bolsillo, para alejarla de mi… De nuevo has sembrado el jardín de mis pesadillas con nuevos sueños

Because she had waited so long and prayed so hard for her son, the revelation that Alexis suffered from hemophilia struck Alexandra with savage force. From that moment, she lived in the particular sunless world reserved for the mothers of hemophiliacs.

Life hurts a lot more than death. —Jim Morrison

It's never-ever going to be okay, never-ever-ever-ever-ever.

Sometimes the imagination could be even crueler than the bone saw.

This is what the theologian Reinhold Niebuhr talked about as "the sin of sensuality." And it's what the Hindus talk about as maya—the dance of illusion, the intoxicating (addictive) dance of sensuous things that enchants and enthralls the mind, catching us up in the cycles of pleasure and pain.

It's the love you had that matters, isn't it, not the pain.

Donnelley was lifting his shirt away from the torn flesh in his side. He was cranked around, trying to assess the damage in the muck-spotted mirror. To Vero, he looked like an expressionist painting in which all the objects were the same color of too-vivid red: the shirt, the hands holding the shirt, the belt bassing through pant loops. At the center of it all was the thing that corrupted its surroundings with its own gruesome color - a wound.

What can be salvaged from your life? A pain that gently darkens over heart and brain, a fairy's touch, a cobweb's weight of pain, now makes me tremble at your right to live.

pain makes aggressive people more aggressive, while doing the opposite to unaggressive individuals.

when they're bathed in blood everyday you can't expect them to rise from it stainless the next morning.