Quotes About Pain

One has to accept pain as a condition of existence. One has to court doubt and darkness as the cost of knowing. One needs a will stubborn in conflict, but apt always to the total acceptance of every consequence of living and dying.

The thing that enchants me the most is the ability women have to feel other people's pain. The total empathy that women have is extraordinary.

Mysteriously and in ways that are totally remote from natural experience, the gray drizzle of horror induced by depression takes on the quality of physical pain.

Pain has its reasons, pleasure is totally indifferent.

When David left me I became totally brokenhearted.

The pain was a houseguest you never invited, who doesn't know when to leave and insists on retelling the story of how you met, over and over. A trip down a specific memory lane that I'd just as soon never take again.

We must all suffer from one of two pains: the pain of discipline or the pain of regret. The difference is discipline weighs ounces while regret weighs tons.

There are only really a few stories to tell in the end, and betrayal and the failure of love is one of those good stories to tell.

they practiced so hard and intensely that it hurt.

many theories were put forth, there was one common factor that researchers recognized in all great performers: they practiced so hard and intensely that it hurt.

The knives opened the flesh like they were painting paintings of a new country, sheer plains of dark land, with the red rivers bursting their banks everywhere, till we were sloshing in God knows what and the dry earth was suddenly turned to noisy mud. The Shawnees ate the lights raw. Their mouths were sinkholes of dark blood.

Men so sick they are dying of death.

There is a moment in the history of every beaten child when his mind parts with hopes of dignity — pushes off hope like a boat without a rower, and lets it go as it will on the stream, and resigns himself to the tally stick of pain.

Do you know the grief of it? I hope not. The grief that does not age, that does not go away with time, like most griefs and human matters. That is the grief that is always there, swinging a little in a derelict house, my father, my father. I cry out for him.

The blood is intact in our bodies but we feel like we are bleeding into the earth.

My head is already stuffed with grief I suppose like a pomegranate with its red seeds. I can only bleed grief, having no room for more.

What he must have suffered, in his lovely English privacy.

THERE'S OLD SORROW in your blood like second nature and new sorrow that maddens the halls of sense. Causes

I did not intend to cry out, but as you will see these small actions, associated in most people's minds with the ease and happiness of life, are to me still like knives in my heart to think of.

Grief is about two years long, they say, it is a platitude out of manuals for grievers. But we are in mourning for our mothers before even we are born.

What would have comforted that writhing woman in a lost bed in the lost land of Strandhill I do not know. If I were a horse they would have shot me out of mercy.

again. 'I do remember terrible dark things, and loss, and noise, but it is like one of those terrible dark pictures that hang in churches, God knows why, because you cannot see a thing in them.' 'Mrs McNulty, that is a beautiful description of traumatic memory.

moment in the history of every beaten child when his mind parts with hopes of dignity – pushes off hope like a boat without a rower, and lets it go as it will on the stream, and resigns himself to the tally stick of pain. This is a ferocious

with ringworm, lice bites, and a million bugs. Men so sick they are dying