Quotes About Pain

In infinite resignation there is peace and repose; anyone who wants it, who has not debased himself by—what is still worse than being too proud—belittling himself, can discipline himself into making this movement, which in its pain reconciles one to existence.

By my own strength I am able to give up the princess, and I shall not become a grumbler, but shall find joy and repose in my pain ; but by my own strength I am not able to get her again, for I am employing all my strength to be resigned. But by faith, says that marvellous knight, by faith I shall get her in virtue of the absurd.

La hora del dolor puede volvernos altivos, si es que no nos quiebra: en ella, nada se ha quebrado…

When we continually focus on the wrongs other members of the family or broader society have inflicted upon us, the unfairness, the pain, the humiliation of it all can make it so difficult to move forward into compassion. Forgiveness is rarely about others. We forgive for our own spiritual welfare.

But repeating the guilt, living in the pain, in the past—it doesn't work. It denies time. It denies life.

Not a lad anymore; old flesh doesn't heal like young. Learn to like it; when you're hurting, you're not dead.

Novissima hora est; and I fain would sleep. The pain has weaned me ... Into Thy hands, O Lord, into Thy hands ...

This silence pours a solitariness Into the very essence of my soul; And the deep rest, so soothing and so sweet, Hath something too of sternness and of pain.

In light of heaven, the worst suffering on earth will be seen to be no more serious than one night in an inconvenient hotel.

It is hard to account for the common human resistance to happiness, unless it is that we would rather be crippled by what we lack than risk the pain that is one potential consequence of placing our secret selves in others' hands...to take delight in being loved requires nerve. The Other Side of You

You can't judge an internal injury by the size of the hole.

My heart broke open and history fell in.

Nobody can judge an internal injury by the size of the superficial wound.

When you pray for what you most want in the world, its opposite comes along with it. I was given a woman whom I truly loved and who truly loved me. The opposite side of such a love is the pain of its loss. I can only feel such pain today because until yesterday I knew that love.

Such were the factors that detached Ormus Cama from the ordinary ties of family life. The ties that strangle us, which we call love. Because of the loosening of these ties he became, with all the attendant pain of such becoming, free. But love is what we want, not freedom. Who then is the unluckier man? The beloved, who is given his heart's desire and must forever after fear its loss, or the free man, with his unlooked-for liberty, naked and alone between the captive armies of the earth?

Nobody can judge an internal injury, he had said, by the size of the superficial wound, of the hole.

And blessed be the first sweet suffering that I felt in being conjoined with love and the bow and the shafts with which I was pierced, and the wounds that run to the depths of my heart…" any man who loves this poem as I do, must be my master... And any man who feels as I do about these words must be my drinking companion.

When thought becomes excessively painful, action is the finest remedy.

PLEASE BELIEVE that I am falling apart.

Life is fury, he'd thought. Fury—sexual, Oedipal, political, magical, brutal—drives us to our finest heights and coarsest depths. Out of furia comes creation, inspiration, originality, passion, but also violence, pain, pure unafraid destruction, the giving and receiving of blows from which we never recover. The Furies pursue us; Shiva dances his furious dance to create and also to destroy.

An old, secret pain welled up in him, begging for healing.

It has been observed that all Americans need a frontier: pain was hers, and she was determined to push it out.

But the truth was that she still felt the past moving like a thrombosis in the blood. It might reach her heart and kill her one of these days.

Such were the factors that detached Ormus Cama from the ordinary ties of family life. The ties that strangle us, which we call love. Because of the loosening of these ties he became, with all the attendant pain of such becoming, free.