Quotes About Pain

She had never dreamed there could be so much pain in a life when there was nothing physically wrong.

It's about how some people carelessly squander what others would sell their souls to have: a healthy, pain-free body. And why? Because they're too blind, too emotionally scarred, or too self-involved to see past the earth's dark curve to the next sunrise. Which always comes, if one continues to draw breath.

I hope he died of intestinal cancer in a part of the world where morphine is as of yet undiscovered.

But who can foresee such things? None of us can predict the final outcomes of our actions, and few of us even try; most of us just do what we do to prolong a moment's pleasure or to stop the pain. And even when we act for the noblest reasons, the last link of the chain all too often drips with someone's blood.

Every man or woman who loves [God], they hate Him too, because He's a hard God, a jealous God, He Is, what He Is, and in this world He's apt to repay service with pain while those who do evil ride over the roads in Cadillac cars. Even the joy of serving Him is a bitter joy.

It had been no struggle to turn his face to the south and leave it behind — but it had hurt his heart.

He felt as if someone had reached into his chest and cut off a tiny piece of his heart and made him eat it. His heart tasted very bitter to him, and he hated Peter more than ever, although part of him still loved his handsome older brother and always would. And although the taste had been bitter, he had liked it.Because it was his heart.

By then I was a teenager, and teenagers say anything to hurt when they are hurting.

But of course it had hurt. It had hurt before, in the worst, rupturing way, knowing there would be no more you but the universe would roll on just the same, unharmed and unhampered.

The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain. There is joy and also pain but the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain. Pretty-plain, loony-sane The ways of the world all will change and all the ways remain the same but if you're mad or only sane the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain. We walk in love but fly in chains And the planes in Spain fall mainly in the rain.

No one ever really pays for betrayal in silver, he thought. The price of any betrayal always comes due in flesh.

The work, the pride in your work, the worth of the work itself...all those things faded away to the magic-lantern shades they really were when the pain got bad enough.

Oddly, the burned hand didn't seem to hurt much anymore; it was only numb. It would have been better if there had been pain. Pain was at least real.

The fucking you got was never worth the screwing you took.

Later, going home, I realized they didn't look alike at all; what made them seem to was the aftermath of stress and the lingering of sorrow. It's strange how pain marks our faces, and makes us look like family.

The pain wasn't tidal. That was the lesson of the dream which was really a memory. The pain only appeared to come and go. The pain was like the piling, sometimes covered and sometimes visible, but always there.

Fright and loss leave residue.

Writing is good. He's always wanted to do it, and now he is. That's good. Only who knew it hurt so much?

When it started not to hurt, it started not to matter.

The road to recovery led through the Land of Pain, that was all.

It hurt, of course, but more often than not the best things do, I've found. You wouldn't think it could be so, but—as the oldtimers used to say—the world's tilted, and there's an end to it.

Hearts don't really break. If only they could.

There's no way you can prepare for a broken heart.

And of our memories, of course. They have voices, too. Ask anyone who has ever lost a limb or a child or a long-cherished dream. Ask anyone who blames himself for a bad decision, usually made in a raw instant (an instant that is most commonly red). Our memories have voices, too. Often sad ones that clamor like raised arms in the dark.