Quotes About Pain

e ela permanecia perdida em um frio terrível que a atravessava.

Era el desvarieig produït per l'absència d'una il·lusió sense retorn, la lassitud que deixen els fets acomplerts, el dolor, en fi, que promou la interrupció de tot moviment acostumat, la sobtada cessació d'una vibració perllongada.

The next day, for Emma, was funereal. Everything appeared to her shrouded in a black mist that hovered uncertainly over the surface of things, and grief plunged deep into her soul, moaning softly like the winter wind in an abandonded chateau. She sank into that kind of brooding which comes when you lose something forever, that lassitude you feel after every irreversible event, that pain you suffer when a habitual movement is interrupted, when a long-sustained vibration is suddenly broken off.

alors, s'appuyant contre le secrétaire, il resta jusqu'au soir perdu dans une rêverie douloureuse. Elle l'avait aimé, après tout.

En vez de desviar su imaginación de él, aún más se aferraba a su recuerdo, excitándose en el dolor y buscando cuantas ocasiones se presentaban para padecerlo.

El amor fue extinguiéndose poco a poco con la ausencia, bajo la costumbre se ahogó la pena; y aquel resplandor de incendio que teñía de púrpura su pálido cielo se cubrió de más sombra y se difuminó gradualmente

Charles, del resto, non era di quelli che scendono al fondo delle cose; arretrò davanti alle prove, e la sua gelosia incerta si smarrì nell'immensità del suo dolore.

No daleko od toga, pam?enje zaboravlja, a slika blijedi, dok tvrdoglavi bol ostaje u vama. I samo da bih je do?arao, napisao sam sve ovo dosada, nadaju?i se da ?e mi rije?i pomo?i da je oživim; nisam uspio, ja pamtim mnogo više od onoga što sam o tom rekao.

But this pleasure was not unalloyed with pain, and it seemed as if the universal joy of the awakening world could now only impart a delight which was half sorrow to her grief-crushed soul and withered heart.

Horrible, this love to which he was now chained, a love without purpose and without aim, without joy and without triumph, a love that sickened, weakened, laid waste to everything, a love without sweetness and without intoxication, breeding nothing but regret and foreboding, tears and pain, hinting at the ecstasy of shared caresses only by some intolerable longing for kisses not to be wakened on cold lips, sterile and dry as dead leaves.

Varl???m?z s?ras?nda yaÅŸad???m?z en büyük ?st?rap ebediyen yaln?z olmam?zdan geliyor ve bütün çabam?z, bütün hareketlerimiz bu yaln?zl?ktan kaçmak için.

Oh! les pauvres gens, les pauvres gens, les pauvres gens, come j'ai senti leurs angoisses, comme je suis mort de leur mort! J'ai passé par toutes leurs misères; j'ai subi, en une heure, toutes leurs tortures. J'ai su tous les chagrins qui les ont conduits là; car je sens l'infamie trompeuse de la vie, comme personne, plus que moi, ne l'a sentie.

Almost every day I can feel myself suffering mainly in the head, I can explain the pain to myself but knowing it comes from an inflammation of my imagination doesn't prevent it being reality itself. What's more I'd be crazy not to go crazy. We don't know what an illness is. On awful hurts we plaster little old words, as if we could think hell with a paper bandage.

A Puritan is not against bullfighting because of the pain it gives the bull, but because of the pleasure it gives the spectators.

There are men so philosophical that they can see humor in their own toothaches. But there has never lived a man so philosophical that he could see the toothache in his own humor.

we are dulled and prosaic with the poison of life.

Death would be a boon if only it could blot out the memories.

Infeliz es aquel a quien sus recuerdos infantiles sólo traen miedo y tristeza.

Alas for him who chafes at soothing ease, And cries for fever'd joys and pains to please: They please a moment, but the pleasure flies, And the rack'd soul, a prey to passion, dies.

He let the boy run about for a week until he began stumbling and hurting himself, and then he shut him in an attic room across the hall from his mother's. The way they screamed at each other from behind their locked doors was very terrible, especially to little Merwin, who fancied they talked in some terrible language that was not of earth.

As human beings, our only sensible scale of values is one based on the lessening of the agony of existence. That plan is most deserving of praise which most ably fosters the creation of the objects and con­ditions best adapted to diminish the pain of living for those most sen­sitive to its depressing ravages.

His drinking, of course, only aggravated what it was meant to alleviate.

Suffering is not objective. It depends largely on the way you perceive. There are things that cause you to suffer but do not cause others to suffer. There are things that bring you joy but do not bring others joy.

For Mum, life was fundamentally hell. You went blind, you got raped, people forgot your birthday, Nixon got elected, your husband fled with a blonde from Beckenham, and then you got old, you couldn't walk and you died.