Quotes About Pain

The more pain you deliver to others, the more shall be visited upon you. You sow your own misery, and because of that whatever sympathy you might rightly receive is swept away.

Failure wasn't a pleasant notion. It stung. It burned like acid.

His brittle, yellowed bones were splintered, crushed and shattered.

Kuru Qan once told me that grieving had nothing to do with the ones gone, and everything to do with the ones left behind. We feel the absences in our life like open wounds, and they never really close, no matter how many years pass.

After all, war knows no other language. In war we invite our own destruction. In war we punish our children with a broken legacy of blood.

Some wounds never heal, and that man has just taken such a wounding.

Hunched, his face pulsing with pain, Mebra watched with hooded eyes as his words sank roots into the Red Blade commander's mind.

The scar around an old wound feels nothing." "To feel nothing is not a virtue.

Along the track, no more than fifty long paces from Duiker's position, a hapless squad of Malazan soldiers writhed on what were locally called Sliding Beds—four tall spears each set upright, the victim set atop the jagged points, at the shoulders and upper thighs. Depending on their weight and their strength of will in staying motionless, the impaling and the slow slide down to the ground could take hours.

The easiest thing to break is a man's heart

And to weep was to be inside oneself, entirely, an inner place far more unrelenting and unforgiving than anything that could be found outside.

Grief rapes the mind, and I know all about rape.

She pushed herself upright, stumbling as pain closed iron bands around her ankles.

We are all naught but twists of suffering in a river of pain.

Will you accept that suffering defies boundaries and that pain carves no line in the sand?

The dead were gone through Hood's Gate. The living were left with the pain of their passage.

It is what we can bear,' she whispered. 'But there is more to life than suffering.

Pain darkened the world. Pain dislocated. Turned one's own flesh and bones into a stranger's house, from which no escape seemed possible.

Hurt was nothing. Was meaningless. But no, there was value in pain, if only to remind oneself that one still lived. When nothing normal could be regained, ever, then other pleasures had to be found. Cultivated, the body and mind taught anew, to delight in a darker strain.

Feelings lose their edge, leaving us to suffer naught but a plague of bruises, and, after a time, bruises fade.

The wounded will wound.

Numbness spread, allowing him to move his arms without the stabbing agony that had had him bathed in sweat over the last few hours.

Virtues were lauded to ensure compliance, to wrap round raw, reprehensible servitude. To proclaim the sacrifice of others – each of whom stood in place of those reaping the rewards and so were paid in suffering and pain. So much for the majesty of patriotism.

Rage and unbearable pain meshed together like twin strands in an ever-tightening rope.