Quotes About Pain

And one bad mistake which is called love..Can drive you insane till rapture..

If you love someone so much in your life, Then they will surely hurt & destroy you from Inside..!!

My nose is broken, " I said. Damn that Dumbo. Made me self-conscious."My ankle's broken, " he said."Then I'll come to you.

I am falling in love with falling out of love

As if you could pick in love, as if it were not a lightning bolt that splits your bones and leaves you staked out in the middle of the courtyard.

And if her heart was breaking with every step she took, at least he would never know.

How can you forgive what I

Yes. I really love you, Becky, and when you love someone that much, the pain and the pleasure is that much more intense. But forgiveness is a given.

In the classroom of hatred we learn pain, but love teaches us to forgive.

People that hurt others, only act on a pain they feel themselves.

Often it feels like I am breathing today only because a few years back I had no idea which nerve to cut...

Sinto que há uma estranha eternidade naquilo que amámos e foi destruído.(I feel that there lies a strange eternity in that which we loved but has been destroyed.)

Whoever said it was better to have loved and lost was completely full of shit.

An emotionally abusive relationship, in very simplistic terms, is much like standing up in a too hot bath and sinking back in so as not to feel so dizzy.

No one else was as close and as open, No one else so boiled my blood, Even he, who consigned me to torment, Even he, who caressed and forgot.

There is such a thing as crazy-mother bonding. . . . It happens when one realizes the other also has had a crazy mother, and it is both painful and pleasurable. There are more crazy mothers than you might think.

This pain, this dying, this is just normal. This is how life is. In fact, I realize, there never was an earthquake. Life is just this way, broken, and I am crazy for dreaming of something else.

Ne uitam amândoi în dragoste, ca doi bolnavi care-È™i alin? durerile.

IndiscreÈ›iile acestea strig?toare la cer pe care le fac uneori scriitorii prin c?rÈ›ile lor sunt, poate, un omagiu adus femeii pe care au iubit-o È™i pe care, de cele mai multe ori f?r? voia lor, au f?cut-o s? sufere. Cum s?-È™i cear? mai des?vârÈ™it iertare, cum s-o omagieze mai luminos È™i mai sincer decât scriind? Nu pot face altceva. Nu se pot ruga, de pild?, nu pot cânta...

It's a humiliation that you don't forget, and even early in life you learn the pain of rejection because your body isn't wanted.

When I listened to her play I felt I should not be in the same room with her. There were hundreds of people but nobody left. It was a private pain. By private I mean to say unknowable. Only the music knew and it held secrets so that her playing was a puzzle, a whisper, and people afterward stood in the bar and drank and said nothing because they were complicit. There were no words.

If you have to end up in the hospital, try to focus all your pain in your heart rather than your head.

That to truly know happiness is to know the fleeting nature of everything, joy, pain, safety and happiness itself.

My words aren't only words. They're pictures and tears and imperfect offerings of love and self-inflicted shots to my brain.