Quotes About Pain

Before we make love, my husband takes a pain killer.

The best thing you can say to someone going through a tragic loss is not that "It's going to be alright" It is: "Hold on tight because this is going to hurt like hell".

It's a real primal thing, watching someone get hurt. It's funny and accessible.

This pain is comfort. It is the solace of physicality, like a touch.

Suffering is inevitable. It is part of the human condition. It is written in the human script.

The last thousand miles you walk will hurt the most -Johnny The Walker

Losing him was like having a hole shot straight through me, a painful, constant reminder, an absence I could never fill.

And there it was. He knew it, and I knew it. There was nothing left for me to do. Do you know how hard it is to say nothing ? When every atom of you strains to do the opposite? I just tried to be, tried to absorb the man I loved through osmosis, tried to imprint what I had left of him on myself. I did not speak...

When someone we love is snatched from us, it often feels very hard to make plans. Sometimes people feel like they have lost faith in the future, or they become superstitious.

Do you know how it feels to resign yourself to your fate? It is almost welcome. There was to be no more pain, no more fear, no more longing. It is the death of hope that comes as the greatest relief.

My voice, when it emerged, cracked a little. "I'm not in love with a ghost.

Sometimes, I said, a lie is the way of least pain for everyone.

How could I explain to this girl what Will and I had been to each other, the way I felt that no person in the world had ever understood me like he did or ever would again? How could she understand that losing him was like having a hole shot straight through me, a painful, constant reminder, an absence I could never fill?

When someone we love is snatched from us, it often feels very hard to make plans. Sometimes people feel like they have lost faith in the future,

She cried like someone heartbroken.

There is nothing redemptive about the loss of a child, no lessons of value it can teach you. It is too big, too overwhelming, too black to articulate. It is a bleak, overwhelming physical pain, shocking in its intensity, and every time you think you might have moved forward an inch it swells back, like a tidal wave, to drown you again.

Algunas veces sentía como si todos estuviéramos vadeando en nuestro dolor, reticentes a admitir a los demás qué tanto nos estábamos ahogando.

It seemed unfair that despite the fact he could not use them, or feel them, his extremities should cause him so much discomfort.

sobs that contained the death of dreams and the dread knowledge of months of heartbreak ahead.

No, it was the livid red lines scoring Will's wrists, the long, jagged scars that couldn't be disguised, no matter how swiftly Nathan pulled down Will's sleeves.

Sometimes I felt as if we were all wading around in grief, reluctant to admit to others how far we were waving or drowning.

I was so furious, you see, that all around me were things that could move and bend and grow and reproduce, and my son- my vital, charismatic, beautiful boy- was just this thing. Immobile, wilted, bloodied, suffering.

This time the silence was painful. I heard my voice slowly swallowed by it, and couldn't work out what to do with my hands.

The fact that I am no longer tormented by your proximity, or presented with daily evidence of my inability to have the one thing I truly want, has not healed me. It