Quotes About Pain

Tanto la quería, que, tardé, en aprender a olvidarla, diecinueve días y quinientas noches.

El agua apaga el fuego y al ardor los años, amor se llama el juego en el que un par de ciegos juegan a hacerse daño. y cada vez peor y cada vez mas rotos y cada vez mas tu y cada vez mas yo sin rastro de nosotros.

I have this horrible sense of humor where I think discomfort is funny - partly because I experience discomfort a lot, and it's a way of laughing at it and getting a release.

The primary function of mental pain, says Lewis, is to force our misdirectedness on our attention. But just as it belongs to our fallen state to be blind to holiness until we suffer the consequences of sin, and blind to a higher good until natural satisfactions are snatched from us; so equally it belongs to our state that we cannot achieve disinterestedness until it costs us pain.

Man, to Lewis, is an immortal subject; pains are his moral remedies, salutary disciplines, willing sacrifices, playing their part in a drama of interchange between God and him.

I bit Tiger Lily, as hard as I could. I don't know how I thought it would help. Fairie bites are worse than wasp stings - they pierce and burn and ache all at the same time. As best, I knew, I'd be swatted away, and at worst she might crush me by accident in her reaction to the pain. But what happened was worse. She didn't seem to notice it at all. It was like Tiger Lily herself wasn't even really there.

Things hurt, and don't hurt, and hurt again.

This is no place for anyone with a heart.

You know, the mind is a remarkable thing. Just because you can't see the wound doesn't mean it isn't hurting. It scars all the time, but it heals.

If you gave someone your heart and they died, did they take it with them? Did you spend the rest of forever with a hole inside you that couldn't be filled?

The damage was permanent; there would always be scars. But even the angriest scars faded over time until it was difficult to see them written on the skin at all, and the only thing that remained was the memory of how painful it had been.

Those with the least always lose the most in war.

One cannot grow without pain. One cannot improve without it. Suffering drives us to achieve great things.

Something dug into the Bloody-Nine's back, but there was no pain. It was a sign. A message in a secret tongue, that only he could understand. It told him where the next dead man was standing.

Broken hearts heal with time, but broken teeth never do.

A look of fury, a look of pain, a look of hatred you can trust. A smile can hide anything.

Empathy? What's that?" Glokta winced as he rubbed at his aching leg. "It's a sad fact, but pain only makes you sorry for yourself.

Have you no pity?' Glokta could only shrug. 'I did have. As a boy I was soft-hearted beyond the point of foolishness. I swear, I would cry at a fly caught in a spider's web.' He grimaced at a brutal spasm through his leg as he turned for the door. 'Constant pain has cured me of that.

What poet was it who wrote there's no pain worse than the pain of a broken heart? Sentimental shit. He should have spent more time in the Emporer's prisons.

Would it help if I said I was very drunk? Brachio shook his head. - We all were. -Shitty childhood? -Mummy used to leave me in a cupboard. -Shitty adulthood? -Whose isn't?

Guilt is a luxury reserved for those still breathing and with no unbearable pain, cold or hunger demanding all their fickle attention.

That got him thinking about his life. It seemed a bitter, pointless sort of life now. No one was any better off because of it. Full of violence and pain, with not much but disappointment and hardship in between.

Shoglig was talking shit. That old bitch didn't know when I was going to die at all. If I'd known that I'd surely have worn more armour.' Whirrun made a sound somewhere between a cough and a laugh, then winced, coughed, laughed again, winced again. 'Fuck, it hurts. I mean, you know it will, but, fuck, it really does hurt. Guess you showed me my destiny anyway, eh, Craw?

Bang! The end of his little finger, now, and three more pieces of the rest. His middle finger was down to the knuckle, almost. Severard stared, his eyes with with horror, his breath coming short, fast gasps. Shock, amazement, stunned terror. Glokta leaned down to his ear. 'I hope you weren't planning to take up the violin, Severard. You'll be lucky if you can play a fucking gong by the time we're done here.