Quotes About Pain

You go out there, you pound your knees for 12 minutes, then you come and sit for 12 minutes, your back gets tight. Then you've got to go back out there for another 12 minutes and then come and sit for 12 minutes, and then maybe at the end of the game your team needs a stop and you can't help your team. It pounds the knees and stiffens up your back.

Amor es gozar mucho y llorar luego mucho más.

lancing the occasional boil, leeching anyone

If only I had jumped from a building instead of slitting my wrists or drank sulfurid acid instead of taking sleeping pills! Yeah, you were the only reason I didn't pick better ways to kill myself, Aunt Monica. It's the thought that there actually is somebody who'd miss me and grieve for me... that makes my heart ache - Juri Motou

Tuskan ahjossa kerran suli sydämeni kova ja hiljainen. Sitä liekit söi, sen puhdisti tuli, ja itse kuolema takoi sen. Niin, elämä: aseellas raskaimmalla lyö, iske! Enää en murtua voi. Minun sydämeni helisee moukarin alla, mitä kipeämmin lyöt, sitä syvemmin se soi.

Meditation and running are essentially addressing these two kinds of pain. Of course, we cannot run all day and all night, and it is difficult to meditate all day and all night. However, when we include these two disciplines in our daily routine, we are making our body and mind more livable.

Throughout life it is inevitable that we will experience both pain and pleasure. Learning how to handle them leads to harmony and happiness. In meditation, if we are unable to handle pain or boredom, then that pain or boredom becomes our master. Then we spend our entire life trying to avoid being bored or feeling pain. However if we can handle our mind, then we know that we can handle boredom and pain.

Sometimes," says a fellow depressive, "I wish I was in a full body cast, with every bone in my body broken. That's how I feel anyway. Then, maybe, people would stop minimising my illness because they can actually see what's wrong with me. They seem to need physical evidence.

Bad enough to be ill, but to feel compelled to deny the very thing that, in its worst and most active state, defines you is agony indeed.

Why do they call it a 'mental' illness? The pain isn't just in my head; it's everywhere, but mainly at my throat and in my heart. Perhaps my heart is broken.

Why does nobody understand that these are tears without a beginning or an end? I thought sadness had a beginning and an end. And a middle. A story, if you like. I was wrong.

I am the most miserable man living. If what I feel were equally distributed to the whole human family, there would not be a cheerful face on earth. Whether I shall ever be better I cannot tell; I awfully forbode I shall not. To remain as I am is impossible. I must die or be better.

What more can anyone take from me?" said my father, his head bent down. "Everywhere I go I carry my hell with me.

He coughs. Not a good sound. Too deep, too full of coffins. Why is mankind so fucking cruel? Why?

Cos'altro possono togliermi? Dovunque io vada mi porto dietro il mio inferno.

non avrei mai creduto che il cuore potesse causare tanti dolori e tanti conflitti. Che si potesse rompere, ma anche aggiustare. Che si potesse donare, ma anche riaverlo indietro. Perderlo e trovarlo di nuovo.

we can only hope that the evocative Welsh word hiraeth will be preserved. It means 'distant pain', and I know all about it…But, and this is important, it always refers to a near-umbilical attachment to a place, not just free-floating nostalgia or a droopy houndlike wistfulness of the longing we associate with human love. No, this is a word about the pain of loving a place.

You lost the remembrance of pain through inflicting it.

When a human in happy time, he/she doesn't understand the reality! He/she doesn't realize it until he/she is touched by sadness, pain, poverty, refusal, betrayal, hate, abuse and so many things. Until then he/she doesn't know what the reality is. Cause the reality is very harsh and very hard to accept.

Tree I dreamt you invisible majesty hovering above the face of all things. Rooted in the pain of ash, mere man, I bore you, sepulchre, dead father, silently, within, called out to you the windswept words of lost millennia, words that kindle rage. You never answered me. You left me fearing night, hidden fire, leaping flame, tree God in the night.

One day I will forgive you; until then there are scabs everywhere that you have touched me.

Missing you is worse than Pittsburgh.

Malo es el amor no correspondido; pero lo que verdaderamente puede hundirlo a uno es el amor no correspondible.

At meals Mama and Papa would observe each other from opposite ends of the long table, and Mama's grey eyes would fly angry silences at Papa, who would catch them in his enormous mustache. Their marriage was a tall column of pain, like a fluted vase. Balanced precariously on the fricative point at which Mama's personality met Papa's chin, it was always about to fall over and smash.