Quotes About Pain

Dysfunction isn't a choice, it's a disease.

We all make mistakes coming from our place of pain. When we know better, we do better.

She understood now, how you turned away until you couldn't. Until the pain of knowing and doing nothing was greater than the fear of what might come next.

The world was not a fair place and nothing—not looks, not wealth, not love—was evenly distributed. He knew that, of course he did. Why did it never stop hurting?

Finley felt a fresh wash of tears, a desire to run toward Eloise, to cling and to hold on. But she didn't. She had already learned the most important lesson Eloise had to teach, though it still hurt like hell: Fear holds on. Love lets go. "Yes

A haunting is not what you think, Liz would tell their clients. Places, like people, have memories. Trauma and pain disrupt and change the energy of the ground or the structures. Land, houses: they remember. And, for sensitive people, those memories are communicated in different ways.

He's dead, Annie. But as long as you haven't dealt with the memories of the things he has done to you, he'll live on. We'll always have to face these times when you think he's returned for you. You'll never be free." It

The knowledge. Of life and all its pain, the decision to stick around and do better. That's what heroism is, you know?

Maybe you're still friends with people even after they hurt you, even if they keep hurting you. Because there's something there. Something true and deep that stays even when it aches.

How much torture will I endure in the name of love?

The thought of losing him again kills me. This is of course a figure of speech, I will remain alive, but I will not know happiness.

What seems to be love beyond any question is usually a simple case of indigestion.

Do you not believe that animals know grief and fear and pain? The world of men is not an easy one for them.

He learned that the lives of men are short and filled with pain, yet each one a priceless treasure, whether it be that of a prince or a pig-keeper. And, at the last, the book taught him that while nothing was certain, all was possible. At the end of knowledge, wisdom begins, Dallben murmured. And at the end of wisdom there is not grief, but hope.

The man that I named The Giver passed along to the boy knowledge, history, memories, color, pain, laughter, love, and truth. Every time you place a book in the hands of a child, you do the same thing.

They have never known pain, he thought. The realization made him feel desperately lonely.

Take pride in your pain, her mother had always told her. You are stronger than those who have none.

The worse part of holding the memories is not the pain. It's the loneliness of it. Memories need to be shared.

The man that I named The Giver passed along to the boy knowledge, history, memories, color, pain, laughter, love, and truth. Every time you place a book in the hands of a child, you do the same thing. It is very risky. But each time a child opens a book, he pushes open the gate that separates him from Elsewhere. It gives him choices. It gives him freedom. Those are magnificent, wonderfully unsafe things.

But why can't everyone have the memories? I think it would seem a little easier if the memories were shared. You and I wouldn't have to bear so much by ourselves, if everybody took a part. The Giver sighed. You're right, he said. But then everyone would be burdened and pained. They don't want that. And that's the real reason The Receiver is so vital to them, and so honored. They selected me - and you - to lift that burden from themselves.

To sadden. To bloom. To bleed. What a strange set of words.

You will be faced, now, with pain of a magnitude that none of us here can comprehend because it is beyond our experience. The Receiver himself was not able to describe it, only to remind us that you would be faced with it, that you would need immense courage.

Jonas felt a ripping sensation inside himself, the feeling of terrible pain clawing its way forward to emerge in a cry.

At dawn, the orderly, disciplined life he had always known would continue again, without him. The life where nothing was ever unexpected. Or inconvenient. Or unusual. The life without color, pain, or past.