Quotes About Pain

I saw a girl complaining that the pain of not being seen was unbearable... Now I have perfect understanding. I have already experienced the worst. After this, there is no worse possible thing.

Suffer more now, suffer less later.

To keep false hopes is to prolong misery.

Memory, in fact, gives you no choice over which moments you can erase, and it is annoyingly persistent in retaining the most painful ones. It is extraordinarily faithful in recording the most hideous details, and it will recall them for you in the future with moments that are even only vaguely similar.

Teddy once told me that it's natural that we feel alone, and that's because our hearts are different from others and we don't even know how. When we're in love, as if by magic, our different hearts come together perfectly toward the same desire. Eventually, the differences return, and then comes heartache and mending, and, in between, much loneliness and fear. If love remains despite the pain of those differences, it must be guarded as rare...

After a while, I hurt so much I didn't feel any difference.

This is how a daughter honors her mother. It is shou so deep it is in your bones. The pain of the flesh is nothing. The pain you must forget. Beacuse sometimes that is the only way to remember what is in your bones. You must peel off your skin, and that of your mother, and her mother before her. Until there is nothing. No scar, no skin, no flesh.

My mother knows how to hit a nerve. And the pain I feel is worse than any other kind of misery. Because what she does always comes as a shock, exactly like an electric jolt, that grounds itself perfectly in my memory.

That is the way with a wound. The wound begins to close in on itself, to protect what is hurting so much. And once it is closed, you no longer see what is underneath, what started the pain.

It's not that we had no heart or eyes for pain. We were all afraid. We all had our miseries. But to despair was to wish back for something already lost. Or to prolong what was already unbearable.

Your tears do not wash away your sorrows. They feed someone else's joy.

When the anesthesia of love wears off, you suffer the pain of consequence.

Así es como se cura una herida: empieza a cerrarse sobre sí misma, a proteger aquello que tanto duele, y, una vez cerrada, ya no se ve lo que hay debajo, aquello que provocaba el dolor.

My mother knows how to hit a nerve. And the pain I feel is worse than any other kind of misery. Because what she does always comes as a shock, exactly like an electric jolt, that grounds itself permanently in my memory. I still remember the first time I felt it.

This is how a daughter honors her mother. It is shou so deep it is in your bones. The pain of the flesh is nothing. The pain you must forget. Because sometimes that is the only way to remember what is in your bones. You must peel off your skin, and that of your mother, and her mother before her. Until there is nothing. No scar, no skin, no flesh.

Acaso el odio no es un simple resultado del amor herido?

Now you see why it is useless to cry. Your tears do not wash away your sorrows. They feed someone else's joy.

My mother knows how to hit a nerve. And the pain I feel is worse than any other kind of misery. Because what she does always comes as a shock, exactly like an electric jolt, that grounds itself permanently in my memory.

No es que fuéramos unas desalmadas insensibles al dolor. Todas estábamos atemorizadas, todas teníamos que sobrellevar nuestras desgracias, pero desesperar era tanto como desear algo que ya estaba perdido o prolongar lo que ya era de por sí insoportable.

The wound begins to close in on itself, to protect what is hurting so much. And once it is closed, you no longer see what is underneath, what started the pain.

Quiero que nuestro amor sea tan grande que nos duela por dentro

I hope you don't suffer forever from keeping love from your heart

In two years' time, my scar became pale and shinny and I had no memory of my mother. That is the way it is with a wound. The wound begins to close in on itself, to protect what is hurting so much. And once it is closed, you no longer see what is underneath, what started the pain.

By then I didn't have enough feeling left in my body to cry.