Quotes About Pain

Every time I get injured I measure it's severity by asking myself 'Would this stop me from going to Disneyland?'

I'm thought of as this pissy, complaining, freaked-out schizophrenic who wants to kill himself all the time.

I bleed all the time. I play golf and stuff, so there's always something, nicks and stuff, here and there.

Time seemed to suspend itself, or cease altogether. Place faded away. There was only her self, the centre that endured through all times, all events, from the world, from its pain. Timeless, eternal.

There is no remembrance which time does not obliterate, nor pain which death does not terminate.

It's exhilarating to be alive in a time of awakening consciousness; it can also be confusing, disorienting, and painful.

You left me boundaries of pain Capacious as the sea, Between eternity and time, Your consciousness and me.

Luckily, I never feel at one time more than half my pains.

In a murderous time/the heart breaks and breaks/and lives by breaking.

It's income tax time again, Americans: time to gather up those receipts, get out those tax forms, sharpen up that pencil, and stab yourself in the aorta

Think of how strange we'd look if all the cuts, burns, scrapes, bruises, scratches, bumps, gashes, and scabs we ever had suddenly reappeared on our bodies at the same time.

It's not easy to know who you are and it's very painful and takes a lot of time and that is why a lot of people don't want to put in the effort.

Games are not so bad because the adrenalin keeps you going, but training on a daily basis when every time you move it hurts, that is a real battle.

In this sad world of ours, sorrow comes to all, and it comes with bitter agony. Perfect relief is not possible, except with the passing of time.

I still think that maybe the "afterlife" is just something we made up to ease the pain of loss, to make our time in the labyrinth bearable. Maybe we are just matter, and matter gets recycled

because the most terrible emotional anguish known to humans is not knowing.

Call me a sinner, Mock me maliciously: I was your insomnia, I was your grief.

I am in the middle of it: chaos and poetry; poetry and love and again, complete chaos. Pain, disorder, occasional clarity; and at the bottom of it all: only love; poetry. Sheer enchantment, fear, humiliation. It all comes with love

Though you are three times more beautiful than angels, Though you are the sister of the river willows, I will kill you with my singing, Without spilling your blood on the ground. Not touching you with my hand, Not giving you one glance, I will stop loving you, But with your unimaginable groans I will finally slake my thirst. From her, who wandered the earth before me, Crueler than ice, more fiery than flame, From her, who still exists in the ether— From her you will set me free.

Sometimes she felt as though she was disappearing, that she was being whittled down to just this terrible feeling, like a sudden aching that appeared all over, not in her body but in her soul.

It was like death, except I had to go on living.

there is a piece of me missing so big that the pain doubles me over, clawing at my gut...

I too wished that death would come and rescue me.

Long have I dwelt forgotten here In pining woe and dull despair; This place of solitude and gloom Must be my dungeon and my tomb.