Quotes About Pain

After a while I didn't think it was a terrible life, no, not really. After a while, I hurt so much I didn't feel any difference.

I know what to avoid, what to worry about. I'm like those kids who live with gunfire going off around them. I don't want pain. I don't want to die. I don't want to see other people around me die. But I don't have anything left inside me to figure out where I fit in or what I want. If I want anything, it's to know what's possible to want.

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.

Those were the reasons we both knew how deep love was, the shared pain that would outlast any pain we caused each other.

But how can anyone truly understand another's suffering unless he has felt the wound being made and the moment trust died?

From what I have observed, when the anesthesia of love wears off, there is always the pain of consequences. You don't have to be stupid to marry the wrong man.

Grief is when your eyes still see but have stopped looking.

So this is what I will do. I will gather together my past and look. I will see a thing that has already happened. The pain that cut my spirit loose. I will hold that pain until it becomes hard and shiny, more clear, and then my fierceness can come back. My golden side, my black side.

Well, let me tell you, your recollection of every last detail has nothing to do with memory. It's called holding a goddamn grudge. ... That's what I remember the most, not addresses but pain - that old lump-in-the-throat conviction that the world had fingered me for abuse and neglect. Is that the same as a grudge?

Last night I wept. I wept because the process by which I have become woman was painful. I wept because I was no longer a child with a child's blind faith. I wept because my eyes were opened to reality....I wept because I could not believe anymore and I love to believe. I can still love passionately without believing. That means I love humanly. I wept because I have lost my pain and I am not yet accustomed to its absence.

In my childhood diary I wrote: "I have decided that it is better not to love anyone, because when you love people, then you have to be separated from them, and that hurts too much.

life is truly known only to those who suffer, lose, endure adversity, & stumble from defeat to defeat.

I wept because I could not believe anymore and I love to believe. I can still love passionately without believing. That means I love humanly. I wept because from now on I will weep less. I wept because I have lost my pain and I am not yet accustomed to its absence.

Since desire always goes towards that which is our direct opposite, it forces us to love that which will make us suffer.

Every lover could be brought to trial as the murderer of his own love. When something hurts you, saddens you, I rush to avoid it, to alter it, to feel as you do, but you turn away with a gesture of impatience and say: I don't understand

Woman brings pain. Woman is evil. There are no exceptions. I tell you, even the angels are liars. What does Proust say? "We lie all our lives, and more especially, only perhaps, to those whom we love." Open your Proust. I have underlined it for you.

When human pain has struck me fiercely, when anger has corroded me, I rise, I always rise after the crucifixion, and I am in terror of my ascensions. THE FISSURE IN REALITY. The divine departure. I fall. I fall into darkness after the collusion with pain, and after pain the divine departure.

A long time ago, said Michael, I decided never to fall in love again. I have made of desire an anonymous activity. But not to feel...not to love...is like dying within life, Michael.

That night Fay became a woman, making a secret of her pain, intent on saving her happiness with Albert, on showing wisdom and subtlety.

I am a woman first of all. At the core of my work was a journal written for the father I lost, loved and wanted to keep. I am personal. I am essentially human, not intellectual. I do not understand abstract act. Only art born of love, passion, pain.

Last night I wept. I wept because the process by which I have become woman was painful. I wept because I was no longer a child with a child's blind faith. I wept because my eyes were opened to reality.

Awareness hurts. Relationships hurts. Life hurts. But to float, to drift, to live in the dream does not hurt.

One does not learn to suffer less but to dodge pain.

I wept because from now on I will weep less. I wept because I have lost my pain and I am not yet accustomed to its absence.