Quotes About Pain

Nobody can see pain. They have no frame of reference for pain that's happening to someone else. They can only see inactivity - which they interpret as laziness.

Don't tell me I didn't love him, don't...just don't act like you know what it feels like to lose someone who left without a goodbye. Someone who you spent your days praying to make him smile and then he just leaves, he leaves without a goodbye...

She put her hand to cover up her mouth, like somehow by shielding this part of her body she could protect the rest of it from the terrible pain about to come...

Why?" he whispered as he leaned over her, supported on one arm. "Why must ye be the one that haunts me dreams? I've seen ye weepin' night after bloody night since the day I sent ye from me palace with yer dress half undone. If I had it to do over again, I'd cut me own right hand off rather than hurt ye so. Will ye never be able to forgive me, Silence love?" "I already have," she replied, cradling his cheek in her hand. "Long, long ago.

It was a strange thing, this feeling of empathy. He'd never experienced it before. He realized that what hurt this woman hurt him as well, that what made her bleed caused a hemorrhage of pain within his soul.

She looked as though everything that she didn't like had happened to her.

Nell'amore non corrisposto è come se due individui vivessero in una bolla d'aria densissima e uno dei due venisse soffocato da tanta pienezza.

Time does not heal, It makes a half-stiched scar That can be broken and again you feel Grief as total as in its first hour

I was regarded as fair-looking for one of my race, and for four years a white man—I spare the world his name—had base designs upon me. I do not care to dwell upon this subject, for it is one that is fraught with pain. Suffice it to say, that he persecuted me for four years, and I—I—became a mother. The child of which he was the father was the

Poetry first introduced me to the concept that pain could, perhaps, be viewed as 'the pain' and not 'my pain.' That sorrow and loneliness and abandonment were the human condition, not my sole possession

We stood in silence, and then the long-haired man repeated, "You are in pain. Do you know why?" "No, why?" I asked, even though I certainly did know why. "Because you are afraid." "Afraid of what?" "Afraid of yourself," the man said, placing his hand on his chest and patting his heart. "You are afraid to feel your real feelings. You are afraid to want what you really want. What do you want?

If I can approach change with an understanding of the process and an openness to the pain, then my daily labors will be swift and fruitful.

How can I stay awake even when it hurts? What might those secrets at dawn be? Why am I so afraid to slow down and listen? What will it take for my longing for wakefulness to become stronger than my fear of change?

There are three major hurdles to overcome in crisis: dealing with pain; working with your attitude; and using the crisis as a wake-up and a cleanup call.

Rabbi Scnhuer Zalman said it clearly when he wrote: "A broken heart is not the same as sadness. Sadness occurs when the heart is stone cold and lifeless. On the contrary, there is an unbelievable amount of vitality in a broken heart." In the middle of the mystery of pain, I harvested this precious jewel. I also harvested the love and beauty right here, in this world.

She says, "You will not grow if you sit in a beautiful flower garden, but you will grow if you are sick, if you are in pain, if you experience losses, and if you do not put your head in the sand, but take the pain as a gift to you with a very, very specific purpose.

The only thing we can really ask for when we pray is the ability to trust in that greater purpose. We pray to have our hearts opened and our purpose revealed. We pray for gratitude when our life is good and for faith when it is not so good. We pray to trust that our pain is a gift with "a very, very specific purpose.

You are living for the deeper truth hidden in the pain of circumstance—your soul's lessons packed in your chimidunchik.

Too many memories, each one sharper and more painful than the last.

If time were truly linear, she thought, it might have carried her away, leaving the pain behind.

Grief, as I understood it - grief and I were acquainted - is the kind of loss that sets you on fire as you struggle to put it out.

The bed of a tortured soul is always in shambles by morning.

Pain and blessings, deep wounds and healed scars, and, thank heaven, a God who could make sense of it all.

But healing isn't the same as recovery, is it? Healing slides way down in your heart and settles there.