Quotes About Pain

Over and over. They be making me remember everythings. Me old songs, they just be natural. But now they be stuffing new things into me and this poor head hurts horrid.

Although he had through the memories learned about the pain of loss and loneliness, now he gained too, an understanding of solitude and its joy.

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

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

JONAS DID NOT want to go back. He didn't want the memories, didn't want the honor, didn't want the wisdom, didn't want the pain. He wanted his childhood again, his scraped knees and ball games.

Enorgullécete de tu dolor –le decía siempre su madre–. Eres más fuerte que aquellos que no sienten ninguno.

He remembered that in the art books he had leafed through at Leader's, many paintings depicted death. A severed head on a platter. A battle, and the ground strewn with bodies. Swords and spears and fire; and nails being pounded into the tender flesh of a man's hands. Painters had preserved such pain through beauty.

He didn't want the memories, didn't want the honour, didn't want the wisdom, didn't want the pain.

Jonas did not want to go back. He didn't want the memories, didn't want the honor, didn't want the wisdom, didn't want the pain. He wanted his childhood again, his scraped knees and ball games. He sat in his dwelling alone, watching through the window, seeing children at play, citizens bicycling home from uneventful days at work, ordinary lives free of anguish because he had been selected, as others before him had, to bear their burden. But the choice was not his.

May I have relief-of-pain, please?" he begged. It was always provided in his everyday life for the bruises and wounds, for a mashed finger, a stomach ache, a skinned knee from a fall from a bike.

Some say it eases pain to lay a knife beneath the bed." "Is it true?" Alsy shrugged. "Likely not. But if the person thinks it, then the thinking eases the pain.

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.

When he spoke, a new spurt of blood drenched the coarse cloth across his chest and sleeve.

Sunkiausias dalykas Atminties Saugotojui yra ne skausmas. Sunkiausia, kad saugai prisiminimus vienas. Jais reikia dalintis.

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

The Giver continued. "I backed off, gave her more little delights. But everything changed, once she knew about pain. I could see it in her eyes." "She wasn't brave enough?" Jonas suggested. The Giver didn't respond to the question. "She insisted that I continue, that I not spare her. She said it was her duty. And I knew, of course, that she was correct.

Put your hands on me," he directed, aware that in such anguish The Giver might need reminding. The hands came, and the pain came with them and through them.

Jonas thought of his favorite female, Fiona, and shivered. He wouldn't want his gentle friend to suffer the way he had, taking on the memories.

I do think, half of what we call madness is just some poor slob dealing with pain by a strategy that annoys the people around him.

Endure pain, find joy, and make your own meaning, because the universe certainly isn't going to supply it.

It's a . . . transcendental act. Making life. . . . 'By this act, I bring one death into the world.' One birth, one death, and all the pain and acts of will between. . . . Our children change us . . . whether they live or not.

I know what the value [of storytelling] is to me -- varied and huge, giving me everything from delight, to knowledge, to access to friends and colleagues, a desirable identity through valued work, escape from pain, and a steady income. Not bad, for something so intangible as making and selling dream-by-number kits.

Don't be afraid," she said. "The dead cannot hurt you. They give you no pain, except that of seeing your own death in their faces. And one can face that, I find." Yes, he thought, the good face pain. But the great—they embrace it.

Pain, like time, is going to come on regardless. Question is, what glorious moments can you win from life in addition to the pain?