Quotes About Pain

I will always have pain. But I exercise as much as I can, and I find that makes a huge difference. And if my body does seize up, I have a pain plan in place. If it escalates, I go back to my doctor.

I believe L. Ron Hubbard resolved the human mind, and in resolving it he has also resolved human pain - that's what I really think has happened here.

I think human relationships - the whole thing is cruel. It's very difficult.

Along with true human relationships, 'Buniyaad' is a serial with lot of pain and emotions which even today is rarely found.

Art is born of humiliation.

People process pain differently. My family, we were pretty humorous about things that went on.

Look at the American history of slavery. Can you say that hundreds of years later that has been eased? That pain has not yet been eased.

Our culture is bloodthirsty for stories about women in pain; we hunger for women to expose their traumas and to be rescued by the love of a good man.

It's an awful feeling, being hungry.

The maimings of love are endlessly funny....

I ached once, hard, like a period typed at the end of a sentence.

There was nothing I wanted to do more than be unconscious again, wrapped in black, gone away. I was raw. I felt swollen with potential tears, like a water balloon filled to burst. Begging for a pin prick.

I've suffered betrayal with all five senses. For over a year.

You stopped loving me. We're a sick, fucking toxic Möbius strip, Amy. We weren't ourselves when we fell in love, and when we became ourselves - surprise! - we were poison. We complete each other in the nastiest, ugliest possible way. You don't even really love me, Amy. You don't even like me. Divorce me. Divorce me, and let's try to be happy.

My body was heading into a flare. I paced a bit, tried to remember how to breathe right, how to calm my skin. But it blared at me. Sometimes my scars have a mind of their own.

It's all too much for her, the cruelty of human beings.

I was lying in bed thinking about killing myself, a hobby of mine. Indulgent afternoon daydreaming: A shotgun, my mouth, a bang and my head jerking once, twice, blood on the wall. Spatter, splatter.

What an indulgence it would be, to just blow off my head, all my mean spirits disappearing with a gun blast, like blowing a seedy dandelion apart.

He killed my soul, which should be a crime. Actually, it is a crime. According to me, at least.

You know how people sometimes say they have to hurt because if they don't, they're so numb they won't feel anything?

He took away chunks of me with blasé swipes: my independence, my pride, my esteem. I gave, and he took and took. He Giving Treed me out of existence. That whore, he picked that little whore over me. He killed my soul, which should be a crime.

You know how people sometimes say they have to hurt because if they don't, they're so numb they won't feel anything?" "Mmm." "What if it's the opposite?" Amma whispered. "What if you hurt because it feels so good? Like you have a tingling, like someone left a switch on in your body. And nothing can turn the switch off except hurting? What does that mean?

He felt like an animal limping away, some wounded buck that needed to be put down.

A veces mis cicatrices tienen vida propia.