Quotes About Pain

They have no idea that it can be done by a bus driver, a field hand, or a fry cook. They have no idea where it comes from. It comes from pain, damnation and impossibility. The blow to the soul of the gut. It comes from getting burned and seared and slugged. It comes from...new and awful places and the same old places.

Her eyes always had a frantic, lost look. He could never cure her eyes of that.

No pain means the end of feeling; each of our joys is a bargain with the devil.

agony sometimes changes form but it never ceases for anybody.

most days go nowhere but the avoidance of pain and dissolution are lovely.

Everything is so sweetly awful, so continuously sweetly awful: the art of consummation: life eating life.

I went home each night dizzy and sick. He was murdering me with the sound of his voice.

the people are the biggest horror show on earth, have been for centuries.

You were destroyed by what you befriended.

she's half-insane, looking for an out; she's hard, she's scared, she's been fooled, taken, abused, used, over-used . . . but, under all that, to me she's the flower, I see her as she was before she was ruined by the lies: theirs and hers.

And then she would smile, to show me how, and it was the saddest smile I ever saw.

that's ONE thing that's wrong with intellectuals and writers - they don't feel a hell of a lot except their own comfort or their own pain. which is normal but shitty.

the flesh covers the bone and they put a mind in there and sometimes a soul, and the women break vases against the walls and the men drink too much and nobody finds the one but keep looking crawling in and out of beds. flesh covers the bone and the flesh searches for more than flesh.

The problem was you had to keep choosing between one evil or another, and no matter what you chose, they sliced a little bit more off you, until there was nothing left… The others had some taste for life. They seemed to understand something that I didn't understand. Maybe I was lacking. It was possible. I often felt inferior. I just wanted to get away from them. But there was no place to go

you shoulda known the entirety of the trap, a**hole, love means eventual pain victory means eventual defeat grace means eventual slovenliness, there's no way out...you see, you understand?

Love is a horse with a broken leg trying to stand while 45,000 people watch.

one of Lorca's best lines is, "agony, always agony…" think of this when you kill a cockroach or pick up a razor to shave or awaken in the morning to face the sun.

And then along came Hemingway. What a thrill! He knew how to lay down a line. It was a joy. Words weren't dull, words were things that could make your mind hum. If you read them and let yourself feel the magic, you could live without pain, with hope, no matter what happened to you.

Words weren't dull, words were things that could make your mind hum. If you read them and let yourself feel the magic, you could live without pain, with hope, no matter what happened to you.

humanity you sick motherfucker.

The shoulder blades sticking out as if they wanted to grow wings through that skin. Little blades, she was helpless.

a bird no one wants. he's mine. my bird of pain. he doesn't sing. that bird swaying on the bough.

Trouble and pain were what kept a man alive. Or trying to avoid trouble and pain. It was a full time job.

it's not the large things that send a man to the madhouse. death he's ready for, or murder, incest, robbery, fire, flood … no, it's the continuing series of small tragedies that send a man to the madhouse …