Quotes About Pain

magic was ugly—-a hard bargain with the universe, a calculus of pain.

The world was carnage. You either suffered it or inflicted it.

And so Grief and Shame abided in adjoining rooms with the door shut between them, holding their pain in their arms instead of each other.

He wanted to tell her that everything he had done he had done because he was broken, because watching her die had destroyed him, but there was no way to say it that didn't sound like he was trying to pin the blame outside himself

Long life is a burden, when it's spent in misery.

There is intimacy in pain. Anyone who has comforted a sufferer knows it—the helpless tenderness, the embrace and murmur and slow rocking together as two become one against the enemy, pain

She stabbed him in the armpit, deep, and he dropped his sword. And died. So that's what is feels like, she thought as her boldness gave away to trembling. It feels awful.

It's easy to make people cry. Grief, humiliation, anger—there are countless avenues to tears. It's easy to make them scream, too. There are so many things to fear.

Then there were things-- epic, terrible things-- that he didn't tell her but skirted around, like caressing the edges of a wound, hesitant, testing for pain.

Some kinds of misery make you hate the world, but some kinds make you hate yourself, and--butter and cheese not withstanding--Neve had no question that Spear was the latter.

It was like dying, but without the consolation of oblivion.

She understood now why pain was the tithe for magic: It was more powerful than joy. Than anything. Than hope?

Hay intimidad en el dolor. Cualquiera que haya consolado a alguien que sufre lo sabe —la indefensa ternura, los abrazos y susurros, y el lento balanceo conjunto mientras dos se vuelven uno contra el enemigo, el dolor—.

There is intimacy in pain.

How easily comes the blood.

It's not free, Karou. Magic has a price. The price is pain.

Morgan's fury turned to fear. It was like antiseptic hitting pus: the seethe, the bubbling, the burn.

In the darkness behind their shut lids they all saw the same thing: no color at all, only loss like a hole torn in the world.

Every night she bore witness to what she could never have. It wasn't living. It was torture.

I'm not a dream," said Sarai. There was bitterness in her voice. "I'm a nightmare.

Evrenden almak için vermen gerekir," dedi Akiva. "Ama... Neden ac?? Ba?ka bir ?ey veremez misin? Mesela... Ne?e? "Bu bir denge meselesi. Kolay verilen bir ?ey olsayd?, anlam? olmazd?." "Gerçekten ne?enin, ac?dan daha kolay oldu?unu mu dü?ünüyorsun? Sen hangisini daha çok ya?ad?n?

They had an enemy. They were an enemy. The world was carnage. You either suffered it or inflicted it.

and her voice was mournful and sweet and drenched in pain, like an otherworldly fado.

The mind is good at hiding things, but there's something it cannot do: It can't erase. It can only conceal, and concealed things are not gone. They rot. They fester, they leak poisons. They ache and stink. They hiss like serpents in tall grass.