Quotes About Pain

When I saw him three months later [after the death of his wife], he was still despondent. 'I feel as if a part of my body is missing. I feel as if I have been dismembered,' he told me. His voice cracked and his eyes rimmed red.

When our time is limited and we are uncertain about how best to serve our priorities, we are forced to deal with the fact that both the experiencing self and the remembering self matter. We do not want to endure long pain and short pleasure. Yet certain pleasures can make enduring suffering worthwhile. The peaks are important, and so is the ending.

I'd eat right through pain—even to the point of throwing up

We do not want to endure long pain and short pleasure. Yet certain pleasures can make enduring suffering worthwhile. The peaks are important, and so is the ending.

Then she asked a series of questions, targeting issues that tend to arise in patients with terminal illness. Did Cox have pain? How was her appetite, thirst, sleeping? Any trouble with confusion, anxiety, or restlessness? Had her shortness of breath grown worse? Was there chest pain or heart palpitations? Abdominal discomfort? Trouble with constipation or urination or walking?

He looked like the victim of a forceps delivery.

How much of this truth can I bear to see and still live unblinded? How much of this pain can I use?

Speaking] is never without fear; of visibility, of the harsh light of scrutiny and perhaps judgment, of pain, of death. But we have lived through all of those already, in silence, except death. And I remind myself all the time now, that if I were to have been born mute, and had maintained an oath of silence my whole life for safety, I would still have suffered, and I would still die.

And I find I must remember that the pain is not its own reason for being. It is a part of living. And the only kind of pain that is intolerable is pain that is wasteful, pain from which we do not learn. And I think that we must learn to distinguish between the two.

There are no new pains.

Somedays, if bitterness were a whetstone, I could be sharp as grief.

Is this pain and despair that surround me a result of cancer, or has it just been released by cancer? I feel so unequal to what I always handled before, the abominations outside that echo the pain within.

I memorized Edna St. Vincent Millay's poem "Renascence," all eight pages. I said it to myself often. The words were so beautiful they made me happy to hear, but it was the sadness and the pain and the renewal that gave me hope.

there are no new pains. We have felt them all already. We have hidden that fact in the same place where we have hidden our power.

I lost my sister, Gennie, to my silence and her pain and despair, to both our angers and to a world's cruelty that destroys its own young in passing—not even as a rebel gesture or sacrifice or hope for another living of the spirit, but out of not noticing or caring about the destruction.

I must let this pain flow through me and pass on. If I resist or try to stop it, it will detonate inside me, shatter me, splatter my pieces against every wall and person that I touch.

I see much better now and my eyes hurt.

Ah, what is then this earthly life, But grief, affliction and great strife? E'en when fairest it has seemed, Nought but pain it can be deemed.

Bet vai tu zini par manu b?rn?bu? Vai tu zini, cik man bija sliktas m?jas un cik daudz ?auna es tur dab?ju iem?c?ties? Š?iet, ka tas n?k l?dzi mantojum?, no citiem augumiem, bet no k?? No pirm? auguma, t? bija rakst?ts b?rnu gr?mat?s, un liekas, ka piepild?s... T?p?c nevaino mani, tad es savuk?rt nevainošu savus vec?kus, kuri var?tu vainot sav?jos un t? joproj?m!

Do not wait for the healing to arrive. It will never come. The holes will never leave or be filled with anything at all. But holes are interesting things.

I missed him so much that I had physical sensations of loss, all over my body. Like one minute I was missing an arm, the next my spleen. It was making me feel sick, like throwing up.

I walked up to the house, rubbing my shoulder where it still hurt from the rifle's recoil. But soon, it wouldn't hurt because I would get used to it. It was amazing to me, what a person could get used to.

Pain is interesting. I dislike it immensely but I've never experienced pain and boredom at the same time. Even when I had unending and severe pain in my lower back for several years I was never bored by the pain, though it exhausted me.

This is among the oldest, deepest, most primal truths: the facts of life may be, at times, unbearably painful. But the core, the bones of life are generous beyond all reason or belief. Those things that ought to kill us do not.