Quotes About Pain

we are talking about relationships in hell. We are talking about the mental disease that exists on this planet.

Hay una vieja expresión que dice: «A la miseria le gusta estar acompañada», y la gente que sufre en el infierno no quiere estar sola.

Decirte la verdad quizá resulte doloroso, pero no necesitas aferrarte al dolor. La curación está en camino; que las cosas te vayan mejor es sólo cuestión de tiempo.

Una mente indulgente es justa. El perdón crea inmunidad al dolor.

have a good life, but you carry hell with you night and day. Like everyone else, you make yourself pay a thousand times for something you did once, and long ago. You make others pay . . . for your fear, for your knowledge." He hesitated, then gave her a hard look. "Will our love have to pay, in the end?

There's no statute of limits on a wounded heart

I was feeling as though my eyeballs had been scooped out, roughly polished with a sanding wheel, and then shoved back more or less into their right places. My head was full of gray cheese instead of brains.

And for Peter... well, sometimes cruelty is kindness in disguise. Sometimes pain is the best teacher. Sometimes it does you no harm to realize that there's a limit to what you can get away with.

Oh, gods, gods, why do you punish me? . . . Yes, no doubt, this is it, this is it again, the invincible, terrible illness . . . hemicrania, when half of the head aches . . . there's no remedy for it, no escape . . . I'll try not to move my head . . .

Nu-i aÈ™a c? [durerea] e perfect fireasc? chiar È™i atunci când omul È™tie c? la cap?tul acestui drum îl aÈ™teapt? fericirea?

I must give due praise to the man who first extracted morphine from poppyheads. He was a true benefactor of mankind. The pain stopped seven minutes after the injection. Interesting: the pain passed over me in ceaseless waves, so that I had to gasp for breath, as though a red-hot crowbar were being thrust into my stomach and rotated. Four minutes after the injection I was able to distinguish the wave-like nature of the pain.

My heart was tightening painfully, as it had after our first parting. Oh, how I was glad of this feeling! Could it be that youth wishes to return to me with its wholesome storms, or is this only its departing glance, its last gift, as a keepsake . . . ?

Tell me, does it amuse you very much to torture me? I ought to hate you. since I've known you, you've brought me nothing but suffering me.. Her voice trembled, she leaned towards head upon my breast. Perhaps that's why you loved me, I thought. Moments of happiness one forgets, but sorrow never.

Les joies s'oublient, les peines jamais

Perhaps that's just why you loved me,' I thought. 'Joys are forgotten, but sorrows never.

B]ut pain doesn't listen to reason, it has it's own reason, which is not reasonable.

I think, therefore I am' is the statement of an intellectual who underrates toothaches.

The basis of the self is not thought but suffering, which is the most fundamental of all feelings. While it suffers, not even a cat can doubt its unique and uninterchangeable self. In intense suffering the world disappears and each of us is alone with his self. Suffering is the university of ego-centrism.

Not even one's own pain weighs so heavy as the pain one feels with someone, for someone, a pain intensified by the imagination and prolonged by a hundred echoes.

I am not worthy of my suffering. A great sentence. It suggests not only that suffering is the basis of the self, its sole indubitable ontological proof, but also that it is the one feeling most worthy of respect; the value of all values.

Today I know this: when it comes time to take stock, the most painful wound is that of broken friendships; and there is nothing more foolish than to sacrifice a friendship to politics.

For everyone is pained by the thought of disappearing, unheard and unseen, into an indifferent universe, and because of that everyone wants, while there is still time, to turn himself into a universe of words.

There is nothing heavier than compassion. Not even one's own pain weights so heavy as the pain one feels for someone, with someone, a pain intensified by the imagination and prolonged by a hundred echoes.

There is nothing heavier than compassion. Not even one's own pain weighs so heavy as the pain one feels for someone, for someone, pain intensified by the imagination and prolonged by a hundred echos.