Quotes About Pain

Even in the greatest afflictions, we ought to testify to God, that, in receiving them from his hand, we feel pleasure in the midst of the pain, from being afflicted by Him who loves us, and whom we love.

But William Stoner knew of the world in a way that few of his younger colleagues could understand. Deep in him, beneath his memory, was the knowledge of hardship and hunger and endurance and pain.

the bitter attrition of feeling and care.

He felt at times that he was kind of a vegetable and he longed for something--even pain-- to pierce him, to bring him alive.

The last pain borne, the last tear, the last sigh, the last lonely hour, the last unsatisfied dream, forever gone by; why should not the dead past bury its dead?

Kate refused to go to bed - for if she slept, she would have to wake up, she said, and that she could not bear to do-to face afresh the grief she was as yet so little used to.

Jealousy is the most absurd pain of all. How one resents it! To be made to suffer in public–the public indignity, the private pain. The shock of it lays dreadful waste in one's soul; it discolors the whole world, cancels every remembrance of tenderness.

Poor Lou, I did nothing for her,' Kate suddenly thought. It is a most severe pain—the realisation that one has failed one's child, done less than one might have done; but she continued to smile bravely.

Sometimes I wish that there were a way to let people know that just because I live in a world without rules, and in a life that is lawless, doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt so bad the morning after.

That is all I want in life: for this pain to seem purposeful.

Depression is about as close as you get to somewhere between dead and alive, and it's the worst.

occasionally I wished I could walk through a picture window and have the sharp, broken shards slash me to ribbons so I would finally look like I felt.

Sometimes, I get so consumed by depression that it is hard to believe that the whole world doesn't stop and suffer with me.

My anxiety and pain during the Scud attacks on Israel, where some of my family lives, did not cancel out my fear and anguish for the victims of the bombardment of Iraq, where I also have relatives.

It is enjoyed by millions of souls to-day—this great prize of life. I for one declare that for every day of misery in my existence I have had a week of joy and happiness. For every hour of pain, I have had a day of pleasure. For every moment of worry, an hour of content.

...unrequited love does not die; it's only beaten down to a secret place where it hides, curled and wounded. For some unfortunates, it turns bitter and mean, and those who come after pay the price for the hurt done by the one who came before.

Silently, his tears were streaming down his face like water from a faucet that could not be turned all the way off.

Henry knows it won't be a stray bullet for him, like the one that took his father. It'll be a broken heart. The drug overdoses, the traffic accidents, the little boy running into the street after his ball, the old man freezing to death in an alleyway with nowhere else to go. They will erode Paul, like water wearing down stone, until there's nothing left.

Cicadas are intimately acquainted with pain, because they know what it is to die a slow death as a spectacle for someone else's pleasure. But they do not die when they are buried. They merely dream, and listen to other buried things, things that perhaps should not have been buried at all. They remember what they hear. When they wake, they are ready to tell the secrets they know. When they wake, they sing.

I mean, pain really should count for something, don't you think? Considering how much it hurts.

The pain has lessened with age, but never goes away. Now the doctors give it a name—endometriosis. Their tone when talking to me is always one of judgmental solemnity, as if this sickness is a curse given to me because I never found a husband, instead of a curse that prevented me from getting one. Or maybe I have always just imagined this in their voices.

I'm lucky to have a leg at all," Heldt had once told him. "The fucking surgeon was a butcher. He should have cut the fucking thing off and handed me a crutch." The cinema was his crutch.

First you have your baby, which in and of itself is a stunning feat. I won't go into specifics, but ouch and no thank you.

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.' I've revised this saying to make it more accurate: 'What doesn't kill you puts you in a whole lot of pain and makes you cry a lot and want to crawl in a hole forever and live with rodents.