Quotes About Pain

This is always and inevitably the case. No one gets away with murder. No one gets away with anything. You can't escape the consequences of your immoral acts any more than someone who drops a big-ass amp directly on his foot can escape having broken toe-bones. Your life and the life of everyone else in the universe are one seamless whole. To cause another living being pain isn't evil-it's just stupid. Because that being is you.

Some people turn sad awfully young. No special reason, it seems, but they seem almost to be born that way. They bruise easier, tire faster, cry quicker, remember longer and, as I say, get sadder younger than anyone else in the world. I know, for I'm one of them.

What sorrow is like to the sorrow of one who is alone?

Oh, the terrible struggle that I have had against sleep so often of late; the pain of the sleeplessness, or the pain of the fear of sleep, and with such unknown horror as it has for me! How blessed are some people, whose lives have no fears, no dreads; to whom sleep is a blessing that comes nightly, and brings nothing but sweet dreams.

Now every word of praise came back to him like a hot knife. Every delicious bite of food seemed poisonous.

painful—sometimes they cause irrevocable harm—but welcome to Earth.

How are you feeling?" Kendra asked. "Stabbed," he said.

Excruciating agony makes me cranky.

A journey will have pain and failure. It is not only the steps forward that we must accept. It is the stumbles. The trials. The knowledge that we will fail. That we will hurt those around us. But if we stop, if we accept the person we are when we fail, the journey ends. That failure becomes our destination.

The question is not whether you will love, hurt, dream, and die. It is what you will love, why you will hurt, when you will dream, and how you will die. This is your choice. You cannot pick the destination, only the path.

You just want to stop existing," Kaladin said. "You don't want to actually kill yourself, not on most days. But you figure it sure would be convenient if you weren't around anymore.

Cleaning the wound is often more painful than the cut itself.

Do you stop loving someone just because they betray you? I don't think so. That's what makes the betrayal hurt so much—pain, frustration, anger... and I still loved her. I still do.

To age truly was to suffer the ultimate treason, that of one's body against oneself.

The sensation—it's not sorrow, but something deeper—of being broken. Of being crushed so often, and so hatefully, that emotion becomes something you can only wish for. If only you could cry, because then you'd feel something. Instead, you feel nothing. Just . . . haze and smoke inside. Like you're already dead.

I know how you feel. Dark, like there's never been light in the world. Like everything in you is a void, and you wish you could just feel something. Anything. Pain would at least tell you you're alive. Instead you feel nothing. And you wonder, how can a man breathe, but already be dead?

My life," Melody declared, "is a tragedy.

The question," she replied, "is not whether you will love, hurt, dream, and die. It is what you will love, why you will hurt, when you will dream, and how you will die. This is your choice. You cannot pick the destination, only the path.

How could anyone understand the pain of a faith betrayed? He had believed. And yet, when he had needed hope the most, he had found only emptiness... Belief isn't simply a thing for fair times and bright days, I think. What is belief—what is faith—if you don't continue in it after failure. . . .

And yet, he was finding more and more that he didn't want to take his mind off her. Which was more potent? The pain of memory, or the pain of forgetting?

Better to exist in agony than to vanish entirely.

Once the soul grows accustomed to the wound, it's much harder to fix.

He sat staring at the door for a long time. He wasn't wearing a hat, which meant he had to just be himself. The true him, the one that knew this pain. They'd ridden together on many a dusty path. This pain had been his invisible friend since childhood. The pain of knowing what he really was. The pain of being worthless.

Exhaustion," Dalinar said, "pain, suffering. This is what victory usually feels