Quotes About Pain

Everything is so fragile. There's so much conflict, so much pain...you keep waiting for the dust to settle and then you realize this is it; the dust is your life going on. If happy comes along--that weird, unbearable delight that's actual happy--I think you have to grab it while you can. You take what you can get, 'cause it's here, and then...gone.

Scramblers deactivated, then? Well here's some good news. You feel no pain. You will go straight to a hospital. Remember nothing of this place. And every time you hear the words parsley, intractable or longitude, you will vomit uncontrollably for forty-eight hours.

Contradiction is the seed of conciousness. I knew, from the pain of contradiction, that I was. And what I was.

Life's not a song. Life isn't bliss, life is just this. It's living. You'll get along. The pain that you feel can only heal by living. You have to go on living. So one of us is living.

At sunset say goodbye to hurt, to suffering, goodbye to the pain you caused others. Good bye, bye, don't cry.

my father staggering in drunk, beating my mother, the shame and hate in him burning, burning. Then he'd hit my brothers. And then me whom it was said he loved most. He'd save me for last, when his anger was ashes, when the fire was hottest. And then he's hold me, 'Sugar, sugar', he's croon, the tears so thick they made a lake on the linoleum floor.

I marked myself once with a knife. I was disappearing into the adolescent sea of rage and destruction. The mark of pain assured me of my own reality. The cut could speak. It had a voice that cried out when I could not make a sound in my defense. I never made such a mark again. Instead I chose to slash art onto canvas, pencil marks onto paper, and when I could no longer carry the burden of history, I found other openings. I found stories.

her eyes closed against some unimagined darkness, where she is buried in an ache in which nothing makes sense.

What shall I do with all this heartache?

For what is delusion but the prelude to hurt. And what is hurt but the prelude to rage.

For what are the words with which to summarize a lifetime, so much crowded confused happiness terminated by such stark slow-motion pain?

Betrayal is the deepest wound. Betrayal is what remains of love, when love has gone.

That glass sliver in the heart. Amid a fluttery-delicious Benzedrine rush, virtually every remark made to you is freighted with destiny, a sweet-painful stab in the heart. And Benzedrine and champagne, what a combination! The Blond Actress was only just discovering what everybody else in Hollywood knew.

I believe in uttering the truth, even if it hurts. Particularly if it hurts.

That I was sleeping at a time when my husband was dying is so horrible a thought, I can't confront it.

So they'd fucked up her life, those guys she'd trusted, for fun. What the hell.

Asked by a journalist how he had felt after an unsuccessful election, Abraham Lincoln said, Like a little boy who stubbed his toe in the dark, he was too old to cry but it hurt too much to laugh.

Della Rae was a pig and she was smashed out of her skull and you didn't want to think about it

You wear out. You see too much. Every breath hurts. The

Marianne's face was streaked with tears that glistened like acid and her skin was drained of color and she could not bring herself to look at Dr. Oakley behind his desk, nor at Corrine.

Ariah struck suddenly at her face with both fists. She wanted to pummel, blacken her eyes that had seen too much.

Traição é uma coisa dolorosa. Traição é a ferida mais profunda. Traição é o que resta do amor depois que o amor acaba.

his liver was enlarged and rode across the small of his back like a hard-rubbery leech

A woman who has lost her husband is invalid, thus an invalid. In