Quotes About Pain

Good thing he's dead, Lula said, or that would have hurt like the devil.

The problem with all that falling in love was that eventually it had to come to an end, and the end would be painful.

An orgasm is an orgasm, but getting there can leave you with a herniated disc if you aren't careful.

Some men enter a woman's life and screw it up forever.

Kate's hands were getting sore and blistered, even with

If sinners were so unhappy, why would they prefer their suffering? But now I knew why. Without my wounds, who was I?

That was what she really wanted. To forget so thoroughly she'd never have another memory again, the bitter so bitter you gave up the sweet.

One can bear anything. The pain we cannot bear will kill us outright.

I almost said, you're not broken, you're just going through something. But i couldn't. She knew. There was something terribly wrong with her, all the way inside. She was like a big diamond with a dead spot in the middle. I was supposed to breathe life into that dead spot, but it hadn't worked...

That kind of tenderness couldn't be permitted to last. You only got a taste, enough to know what perfection meant, and then you paid for it the rest of your life. Like the guy chained to a rock, who stole fire. The gods made an eagle eat his liver for all eternity. You paid for every second of beauty you managed to steal.

He reminded me of someone who put your fingers in the door and smiled and talked to you while he smashed them.

It wasn't awful to be dead. The stillness would almost be a relief. She wouldn't want pain, she wouldn't want to be wounded or mutilated. She could never shoot herself or jump off a building. But being dead wasn't unthinkable.

To them, pain was a country they had heard of, maybe watched a show about on TV, but one whose stamp had not yet been made in their passports.

In a train...smash. In his arm her last...breath.' He had loved her. But he hated himself more. Such suffering, so much pain. And he thought it made him hateful. As if suffering was shameful, disgusting, as if pain were a crime. Who can judge another man's suffering?

And in one drawer, twenty-seven names for tears. Heartdew. Griefhoney. Sadwater. Die Tranen. Eau de douleur. Los rios del corazon.

I couldn't stop thinking about the body, what a hard fact it was. That philosopher who said we think, therefore we are, should have spent an hour in the maternity ward of Waite Memorial Hospital. He'd have had to change his whole philosophy. The mind was so thin, barely a spiderweb, with all its fine thoughts, aspirations, and beliefs in its own importance. Watch how easily it unravels, evaporates under the first lick of pain.

I felt my guilt like a brand.

She was sorry to have hurt her, but she wanted them all to leave her alone, let her keep it together. Kindness was the last thing she needed. She had to stay in the icy place, the numb place, and their warmth threatened to melt her just when she needed the cold.

He had loved her, but he hated himself more.

In a perverse way, I was glad for the stitches, glad it would show, that there would be scars. What was the point in just being hurt on the inside?

I'd spent the last three years trying to build up some kind of a skin, so I wouldn't drip with blood every time I brushed up against something.

Her body felt like it'd been beaten with a hose. This must be what it felt like to get old. It wasn't that your body fell apart from living so long. It was that you had to take so many stompings from life that you'd be happy when the time came to close your eyes and never open them again.

They say time heals all wounds but they're lying

It was that you had to take so many stompings from life that you'd be happy when the time came to close your eyes and never open them ever again