Quotes About Pain

In that etymological light nostalgia seems something like the pain of ignorance, of not knowing. You are far away, and I don't know what has become of you. My country is far away, and I don't know what is happening there.

Even painful memories are ties that bind.

Jealousy is like a raging toothache. One cannot do anything when one is jealous, not even sit down. Once can only come and go. Back and forth.

Just as someone in pain is linked by his groans to the present moment (and is entirely outside past and future), so someone bursting out in such ecstatic laughter is without memory and desire, for he is emitting his shout into the world's present moment and wishes to know only that.

She knew she was being unfair...; she knew she was acting like the most vulgar of women, the kind that is out to cause pain and knows how.

What he yearned for at that moment, vaguely but with all his might, was unbounded music, absolute sound, a pleasant and happy all-encompassing, over-powering, window-rattling din to engulf, once and for all, the pain, the futility, the vanity of words. Music was the negation of sentences, music was the anti-word!

don't be scared, don't be scared, you won't feel any pain there, you'll dream of squirrels abd rabbits, you'll have cows there, and Mefisto will be there, don't be scared...

to have compassion (co-feeling) means not only to be able to live with other's misfortune but also to feel with him any emotion -joy , anxiety, happiness, pain

Nostalgia seems something like the pain of ignorance, of not knowing. You are far away, and I don't know what has become of you. My country is far away, and I don't know what is happening there.

She knew she was acting like the most vulgar of women, the kind that is out to cause pain and knows how.

In spite of their love, they had made each other's life a hell.

No hay nada más pesado que la compasión. Ni siquiera el propio dolor es tan pesado como el dolor sentido con alguien, por alguien, para alguien, multiplicado por la imaginación, prolongado en mil ecos.

Ljubomora ispunjava misli potpunije nego najstrastveniji intelektualni rad. U mislima ne ostaje niti jedan slobodan trenutak. Ljubomoran ?ovjek ne zna što je dosada. ... Ljubomora je kao strašna zubobolja. Ne dopušta ?oveku da radi, ni da sjedi. Tjera ga da hoda, tamo-amo, tamo-amo.

Ze stelde zich op als een ordinair wijf dat niet wist hoe ze hem moest kwetsen.

The first betrayal is irreparable. It calls forth a chain reaction of further betrayals, each of which takes us farther and farther away from

Le malade souffre de la déformation masochiste de sa mémoire

y, si caminaba, caminaba sólo porque el alma, llena de intranquilidad, exige movimiento y no es capaz de permanecer en el mismo sitio, porque cuando no se mueve empieza a doler terriblemente.

Living, there is no happiness in that. Living: carrying one's painful self through the world. But being, being is happiness. Being: becoming a fountain, a fountain on which the universe falls like warm rain.

Silence lay between them like an agony.

Todas as toneladas de ferro dos tanques russos nada eram comparadas com aquele peso. Não há nada mais pesado do que a compaixão. Nem a nossa própria dor é tão pesada com a dor co-sentida com outro, por outro, no lugar de outro, multiplicada pela imaginação, prolongada em centenas de ecos.

Ela encostou-lhe a boca ao ventre e ele sentiu contrair-se-lhe o sexo sob as carícias dela, refugiar-se no seu interior, fugir diante dela, cada vez mais pequeno, cada vez mais ansioso. E sabia que Kamila media pela recusa do seu corpo a amplitude do seu amor por outra mulher. Sabia que ela estava a fazer-se sofrer horrivelmente e que quanto mais sofresse mais o faria sofrer e mais se obstinaria em toca com os lábios húmidos o seu corpo sem força.

For there is nothing heavier than compas-sion. Not even one's own pain weighs so heavy as the pain one feels with someone, for someone, a pain intensified by the im-agination and prolonged by a hundred echoes.

The tons of steel of the Russian tanks were nothing compared with it. For there is nothing heavier compassion. 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.

For there is nothing heavier than compas­sion. 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.