Quotes About Pain

She bonks her head so hard with her hand i want to get her an ice pack

Mrs Nix smacks herself in the head again. If she keeps that up she'll bruise

Monsters? Why? Because we admit to the pain we cause? Admit we like it?...

I guess it's going to have to hurt, I guess I'm going to have to cry, And let go of some things I've loved to get to the other side "I guess it's going to break me down, Like fallin when you try to fly, Sad but sometimes moving on with the rest of your life starts with goodbye

It's only a scratch, don't cut my arm off!

But the hearts of small children are delicate organs. A cruel beginning in this world can twist them into curious shapes. The heart of a hurt child can shrink so that forever afterward it is hard and pitted as the seed of a peach. Or again, the heart of such a child may fester and swell until it is a misery to carry within the body, easily chafed and hurt by the most ordinary things.

And the curt truth is that, in a deep secret way, the state of being loved is intolerable to many.

Our mother sticks a knife in our heart when we say goodbye on the wharf. And we stick a knife in hers when we go. And that's how we're connected: through the hurt we inflict on one another.

That's how we're connected: through the hurt we inflict on one another.

Loss was a night that never ended.

She still held back her tears, as if subjecting herself to some terrible endurance test.

Life was very good to me. Yet I also recall an increasing frequency of deep, inner pain. I remember days of depression. I can still feel the loneliness and the struggle. What was happening? I had every material thing and achieved all the success I could ask for. Yet I felt emotionally bankrupt.

Why must we be always seeking for the lost Child? Why must we be always feeling the pain of loss? If we did not, we should not realise that our idols are not God, are not Christ. Bad as they are, they match our limitations; and if they could content us, we should never know the real beauty of Christ:we should not become whole.

Gibbons wondered vaguely if he was becoming a morphine addict. He had certainly dosed himself into a stupid on account of the hideous pain resulting from the nurse's insistence that he get up and sit in a chair. He rather thought that being a drug addict would interfere with his career as a police detective, but that didn't seem to matter as much as it had a little while ago.

And I'm suppose to sit by while you date boys and fall in love with someone else, get married...?" His voice tightened. "And meanwhile, I'll die a little bit more every day, watching.

I thought I'd lie on the floor and writhe in pain for a while," he grunted, "It relaxes me." "It does? Oh - you're being sarcastic. That's a good sign probably.

They say time heals all wounds, but that presumes the source of the grief is finite

My rapier wit hides my inner pain.

All knowledge hurts.

I have a high pain threshold. In fact, it's more of a large and tastfully decorated foyer than a threshold. But I do get easily bored

The way he looked at you. I got it then. He loved you, and it was killing him. He won't get over you, Clary, he can't.

There are so many worse things than death. Not to be loved or not to be able to love: that is worse.

He's very pretty. For a human." "He's very broken," said Magnus. "Like a lovely vase that someone has smashed. Only luck and skill can put it back together the way it was before.

There are memories that time does not erase... Forever does not make loss forgettable, only bearable.