Quotes About Pain

Every heart has its own skeletons, as the English say.

So at least it seemed to Vronsky, just as it seems to a man with a sore finger that he is continually, as though on purpose, grazing his sore finger on everything.

Ayaklar?n? indirdi, kolunun üzerine yan yatt? ve birden kendine ac?maya ba?lad?. Gerasim'in biti?ik odaya geçmesini bekledi, sonra kendini b?rakt? ve çocuklar gibi a?lamaya ba?lad?. Umars?zl???na, korkunç yaln?zl???na, insanlar?n ac?mas?zl???na, Tanr?'n?n ac?mas?zl???na, Tanr?'n?n yoklu?una a?l?yordu.

An hour to suffer, a life-time to live.

Those joys were so small that they passed unnoticed, like gold in sand, and at bad moments she could see nothing but the pain, nothing but sand; but there were good moments too when she saw nothing but the joy, nothing but gold. Now

When in the morning he saw the footman, and later his wife, and later his daughter, and later the doctor, every step they took, every word they spoke confirmed the horrible revelation that had been laid bare to him the night before. In them he saw himself and everything he had lived by, and saw clearly that it was all false, all of it a monstrous and immense deceit foreclosing both life and death. The realization amplified his sufferings tenfold.

He felt for the first moment as a man feels when, having suddenly received a violent blow from behind, he turns round, angry and eager to avenge himself, to look for his antagonist, and finds that it is he himself who has accidentally struck himself, that there is no one to be angry with, and that he must put up with and try to soothe the pain.

En que estaba pensando? Si, en mi vida; como sea que me la represente no puede ser sino dolor. Todos estamos llamados a sufrir, lo sabemos y queremos disimularlo de alguna manera. Pero cuando nos clava sus ojos la verdad, ¿Que nos queda por hacer?

All's over, and there's nothing more," said Dolly. "And the worst of it all is, you see, that I can't cast him off: there are the children, I am tied. And I can't live with him! It's torture to see him.

And the pain?" he asked himself. "What has become of it? Where are you, pain?" He turned his attention to it. "Yes, here it is. Well, what of it? Let the pain be.

Only the people who are capable to love immensely can, also, feel immense pain: but that same need of love serves them as the cure against pain and it heals them. Because of that, mental nature is stronger than physical nature. Pain never kills.

Did he suffer very much?" asked Pyotr Ivanovich. "Oh, awfully! For the last moments, hours indeed, he never left off screaming. For three days and nights in succession he screamed incessantly. It was insufferable. I can't understand how I bore it; one could hear it through three closed doors. Ah, what I suffered!

A little further on, you see an old soldier changing his linen. His face and body are of a sort of cinnamon-brown color, and gaunt as a skeleton. He has no arm at all; it has been cut off at the shoulder. He is sitting with a wideawake air, he puts himself to rights ; but you see, by his dull, corpse-like gaze, his frightful gaunt-ness, and the wrinkles on his face, that he is a being who has suffered for the best part of his life.

The sense of human freedom, it seems to Tolstóy, is given only to those who have suffered. In

It was impossible not to hate such pathetically ugly people... It was so clear to Anna that no one had anything to be glad about, that this laughter irritated her painfully, and she would have liked to stop her ears so as not to hear it.

You will see war not as a beautiful, orderly, and gleaming formation, with music and beaten drums, streaming banners and generals on prancing horses, but war in its authentic expression - as blood suffering and death.

I strove to shatter and destroy that love, which had come to torture me. I did not destroy it, but I destroyed that part of it which gave me pain. Then I grew calm; and I feel love still, but it is a different kind of love.

Life, that series of increasing torments, flies faster and faster as it nears its end, the most terrifying suffering of all.

And suddenly it grew clear to him that what had been oppressing him and would not leave him was all dropping away at once from two sides, from ten sides, and from all sides. He was sorry for them, he must act so as not to hurt them: release them and free himself from these sufferings. 'How good and how simple!' he thought. 'And the pain?' he asked himself. 'What has become of it? Where are you, pain?' He turned his attention to it. 'Yes, here it is. Well, what of it? Let the pain be

you'll see awful scenes, which shake the soul, you'' see the war, not in correctly, beautifully likable line with music and drums, with raised flags and proudly generals on horses, but in its true image - in blood, sufferings and death.

What has become of it? Where are you, pain?" He turned his attention to it. "Yes, here it is. Well, what of it? Let the pain be." "And death … where is it?" He sought his former accustomed fear of death and did not find it. "Where is it? What death?" There was no fear because there was no death. In place of death there was light. "So that's what it is!" he suddenly exclaimed aloud. "What joy!

Some of them were scarred from head to foot where they had been whipped. One man's back was nearly all one scar, as if the skin had been chopped up and left to heal in ridges. Another had scars on the back of his neck, and from that all the way to his heels every little ways; but that was not such a sight as the one with the great solid mass of ridges from his shoulders to his hips. That beat all the antislavery sermons ever yet preached.

I'm sad and blue, about nobody but you. I told you that I loved you right from the start, you told me the same and now you try to break my little heart.

Suferin??, hr?ne?te-m?!