Quotes About Pain

It seems to me that clients who have moved significantly in therapy live more intimately with their feelings of pain, but also more vividly with their feelings of ecstasy; that anger is more clearly felt, but so also is love; that fear is an experience they know more deeply, but so is courage. And the reason they can thus live fully in a wider range is that they have this underlying confidence in themselves as trustworthy instruments for encountering life.

In this deeply painful state, prayer becomes true and strong even though it may be as dry as dust. The soul speaks to its God out of its poverty and pain; still more out of its impotence and abjection. Words become even fewer and barer.

E' cattiva la gente che non ha provato il dolore, perchè quando si prova il dolore, non si può più voler male a nessuno

it struck him exactly on the head, so that the poor Cricket had scarcely breath to cry cri-cri-cri, and then he remained dried up and flattened against the wall.

La sua anima-bestia, di ibrido, non era che un vuoto crocicchio, dove le strade del dolore e della conoscenza si intersecavano senza tensione vitale, lontanando nel tempo, verso deserti di stupidità.

If you recognize that the person you love deserves your love, will your soul to suffer some." Carlo Goldoni – The Lovers

In questa terra oscura, senza peccato e senza redenzione, dove il male non è morale, ma è un dolore terrestre, che sta per sempre nelle cose, Cristo non è disceso. Cristo si è fermato ad Eboli.

Life is all one long hard thing. He must have the courage to feel alone, to look his own pain in the face, bearing the entire weight of it.

Life is will-to-live, will is a lack, lack is pain, all life is pain.

This is time for us. Memory. A nostalgia. The pain of absence. But it isn't absence that causes sorrow. It is affection and love. Without affection, without love, such absences would cause us no pain. For this reason, even the pain caused by absence is in the end something good and even beautiful. Because it feeds on that which gives meaning to life.

All of the sons of Adam are part of one single body, They are of the same essence. When time afflicts us with pain In one part of that body All the other parts feel it too. If you fail to feel the pain of others You do not deserve the name of man.

But it isn't absence that causes sorrow. It is affection and love. Without affection, without love, such absences would cause us no pain. For this reason, even the pain caused by absence is, in the end, something good and even beautiful, because it feeds on that which gives meaning to life.

And it seems to me that life, this brief life, is nothing other than this: the incessant cry of these emotions that drive us, that we sometimes attempt to channel in the name of a god, a political faith, in a ritual that reassures us that, fundamentally, everything is in order, in a great and boundless love—and the cry is beautiful. Sometimes it is a cry of pain. Sometimes it is a song.

Ma non è l'assenza che provoca dolore. Sono l'affetto e l'amore. Se non ci fosse affetto, se non ci fosse amore, non ci sarebbe il dolore dell'assenza. Per questo anche il dolore dell'assenza, in fondo, è buono e bello, perché si nutre di quello che dà senso alla vita.

Memory is this, not the target dead on center but the hurt unwept.

Hay que sufrir por amor, y disfrutar el amor que daña.

Por isso mesmo, um dia ou outro nós nos surrávamos a frio, sem qualquer motivo, porque o lombo carece sofrer, e há um certo prazer em curar ferida.

Memories are worse than bullets.

I could tell you it's the heart, but what is really killing him is loneliness. Memories are worse than bullets.

If I were to locate and then identify all the hellish things we all have to go through in life in order to uncover one minute of happiness, it would take up a lot of space.

I haven't got time for the pain.

I was an angel of the desert. In your arms I broke my wings.

I thought that any joy in my life had to be paid for with something unpleasant. Perhaps this was a fatal law.

No sé cuántas horas estuve sin dormir, con los ojos abiertos y resecos recogiendo todos los dolores que pululaban, vivos como gusanos, en las entrañas de la casa.