Quotes About Pain

We all want to do something to mitigate the pain of loss or to turn grief into something positive, to find a silver lining in the clouds. But I believe there is real value in just standing there, being still, being sad.

What the hell is instant? Nothing is instant. Instant rice takes five minutes, instant pudding an hour. I doubt that an instant of blinding pain feels particularly instantaneous.

Where is my chance to be somebody's Peter Van Houten?' He hit the steering wheel weakly, the car honking as he cried. He leaned his head back, looking up. 'I hate myself I hate myself I hate this I hate this I disgust myself I hate it I hate it I hate it just let me fucking die.

You don't get to choose if you get hurt in this world, old man, but you do have some say in who hurts you.

There is only one things in this world shittier than biting it from cancer when you're sixteen, and that's having a kid who bites it from cancer.

And still we love the evil cause And of the just effect complain; We tread upon life's broken laws And murmur at our self-inflicted pain.

In the foreword of Neil Postman's book Amusing Ourselves to Death, he compares the apocalyptic visions of George Orwell (1984) to those of Aldous Huxley (Brave New World). One of the comparisons speaks to the issue at hand: "In 1984 . . . people are controlled by inflicting pain. In Brave New World, they are controlled by inflicting pleasure. In short, Orwell feared that what we hate will ruin us. Huxley feared that what we love will ruin us.

flogging every

She kept her eyes on Channing when she could; saw the wounded blankness of all who are ruined young.

The fall could have taken her all the way down, so deep she would not have come back the same or even close. He was going to pound her into the dark and leave her there.…

God did not care about people in pain. Not the little ones. There was no such thing as justice, retribution, or community; neighbors did not help neighbors and the meek would not inherit the earth. All of that was bullshit. The church, the cops, his mother—none of them could make it right, none of them had the power. For a year, Johnny had lived the new, brutal truth that he was on his own.

She turned the water scalding hot and scrubbed her face until it hurt, but the eyes still looked wrong. She tore off her clothes and stepped into the shower; but it was not enough. The dirt was on the inside.

their faces were wholly burned, their eyesockets were hollow, the fluid from their melted eyes had run down their cheeks.

More afraid than hurt.

If you were hurt at a younger age, its the thought that is killing you now

Stories make sense when so much around us is senseless, and perhaps what makes them most comforting is that while life goes on and pain goes on, stories do us the favor of ending.

our hearts break, and take us out of relationships that are too painful for us

the heart aches through nights—the broken places of neglect

my soul has shadows – nooks and crannies where griefs, like cobwebs, collect

The pain comes from more than the facts of circumstance, or the deeds of others. It comes from within. From understanding what we lost. It comes from knowing how foolish we were - vain, arrogant children - when we thought ourselves happy. It comes from knowing how fragile and doomed the old ways were, just when we thought them and ourselves, secure!. The pain comes from knowing we have never been safe, and therefore will never be safe again. It comes from knowing we can never be children again.

God! he swore silently. That man was ever born to be torn and troubled by women!

La memoria suele nublar el dolor. La madre olvida la agonía del parto cuando le ponen al bebé en los brazos.

Ahora, cuando lo recuerdo, me parece todo muy ridículo y pienso que debería reírme. Pero no lo era. Era un sitio de un dolor indescriptible. Eso es lo que la gente que nunca a estado loca no puede entender. Lo mucho que hiere cada delirio. Lo lejos que parece la realidad del alcance de uno. Es un mundo de desesperación y frustración.

Y cómo todos esos dolores acumulados habían evolucionado con los años hacia la locura.