Quotes About Pain

You can't unlove someone even if you want to, even if he breaks your heart.

She was crying for all of it at last—for the pain and loss and fear and anger, for the war and what it had done to her and to all of them, for the knowledge of evil she could never shake, for the horror of where she'd been and what she'd done to survive.

Even if I could forgive him, how would I forget?

Before this trip and all that she'd learned about the three of them, she would have gotten angry or changed the subject. Anything to obscure the pain she felt. Now she knew better. You carried your pain with you in life. There was no outrunning it.

I am like some wounded animal in a darkened lair, nursing the thorn in my paw, unable to find anyone to take it out.

If we weren't here—hiding in a safe house—if the world weren't ripping itself apart, if this was just an ordinary day in an ordinary world, would you want there to be an us, Gaëtan?" She saw how his face crumpled, how pain exposed his love. "It doesn't matter, don't you see that?" "It's the only thing that matters, Gaëtan.

Her tears were slow in forming; it was as if each one were made of blood and too thick to pass through her tear ducts. Memories came at her like a kaleidoscope:

The pain of him leaving kept expanding inside of her, taking up more and more space.

She knew about death, about the grief that ripped you apart and left you broken forever.

But no matter how hard they all tried to be normal, their life was a dirty window that couldn't be wiped clean. Everything, every moment, was coated by illness.

When he finally found the words to express himself, his grief had shown itself to be bottomless, terrifying.

Maybe it had all happened the way it needed to, maybe they'd each crossed their own oceans -hers of damaged love and loss, his of pain- to be here again together, where they belonged.

The smile he gave her was slow in forming, and when it came, she felt pain constrict her chest. Memories came at her in waves, surging over the breakwater she'd built in the isolated years. Him sweeping her into his arms, twirling her around; picking her up from a fall, dusting her off, whispering, Not so loud, my little terror, you'll wake your maman Ã¢â'¬Â¦

She'd crawled into her grief and cocooned it around her, unable to care about anyone or anything—

Time heals all wounds, people told her, underscoring its essential kindness. She knew in fact that some wounds deepened over time instead of lessened;

Talking about Meghann's painful choice and the lonely years that had followed it wouldn't help. Her past wasn't a collection of memories to be worked through; it was like an oversize Samsonite with a bum wheel.

Grief is a sneaky thing, always coming and going like some guest you didn't invite and can't turn away.

Grief this deep was a silent, lonely thing.

You can't prepare for losin' someone you love.

To pick up a pen and write down her life, she'd have to remember it all, who she was, who she'd wanted to be. Those memories would be painful, both the good and the bad would wound her.

No platitudes, Dr. Cerrasin? No 'God doesn't give you more than you can bear' speech?" "Call me Max. Please." He looked at her. "And sometimes God breaks your fucking back." It

Pagaliau Izabel? pratr?ko verkti išraudodama visk?-skausm?,netekt?,baim? ir pykt?, kar?, tai,k? jis padar? jai, k? padar? jiems visiems, blogio pažinim?,kurio jau niekada nebenusikratys, stovykloje patirt? siaub? ir pastang? išgyventi klaikum?.

smell of vomit and mold and decay. His lungs and nostrils ache. He can't breathe without gasping.

There is pain you can't outrun, Marah. Maybe you know that now. Some pains you have to look in the eye.