Quotes About Pain

Neden ?efkat, yaralanmaktan daha çok incitir insan??

I've discovered over the years that the simplest explanation is almost always the right one; and that hunger of one kind or another - desire, by another name - is the source of almost every sorrow.

We are sensual sadists, yes, but we do not inflict pain for its sake. Rather, pain is used both as a reward for the true masochist, and as a punishment, when warranted, to teach and reinforce the lesson. If, at the end of the two weeks, both you and we agree it is a good fit, you will be invited to join our community." "What

You can reach, but you cannot touch. It's reflected in your eye, but the message is never conveyed. It is something you decided for yourself, but that does not change the pain you feel. Even so...you must protect what you must protect.

If one wishes for revenge, before you know it, a hurt as bad as the one wished for will come upon the wisher.

Even now I can't trust life. It did too many awful things to me as a kid.

So much of our pain is rooted in the responses of other people, or rather, in our perceptions of what those responses are or (even more painful) what they may be.

Yes, that was the unbearable thing: having to go on, after your life has been ripped apart, while you struggle to understand how in a split second the whole world has unbelievably changed.

Could it be that the person who sees most, feels and suffers most?

How living hurt. Living was an open wound.

She felt like a dry branch, sticking out of the air. Brittle, covered in old bark. Maybe she was thirsty, but there was no water nearby. And above all the suffocating certainty that if a man were to embrace her at that moment she would feel not a soft sweetness in her nerves, but lime juice stinging them, her body like wood near fire, warped, crackling, dry.

Dá-me a tua mão desconhecida, que a vida está me doendo, e não sei como falar – a realidade é delicada demais, só a realidade é delicada, minha irrealidade e minha imaginação são mais pesadas.

Now I know: I'm alone. I and my freedom that I don't know how to use. Great responsibility of solitude. Whoever isn't lost doesn't know freedom and love it. As for me, I own up to my solitude that sometimes falls into ecstasy as before fireworks. I am alone and must live a certain intimate glory that in solitude can become pain. And the pain, silence. I keep its name secret. I need secrets in order to live.

My mystery is simple: I don't know how to be alive. - Because you only know, or only knew, how to be alive through pain.

Ah how much easier to to bear and understand pain than that promise of spring's frigid and liquid joy. And with such modesty she was awaiting it: the poignancy of goodness.

que os mortos me ajudem a suportar o quase insuportável, já que de nada me valem os vivos.

The night that wouldn't, and wouldn't, and wouldn't come, that was impossible. And her love that now was impossible—that was dry the way the fever of someone who doesn't sweat was love without opium or morphine. And "I love you" was a splinter you couldn't remove with tweezers. A splinter buried in the toughest part of the sole of your foot.

My world today is raw, it is a world of great vital difficulty. Because, more than a star, today I want the thick and black root of the stars, I want the source that always seems dirty, and is dirty, and that is always incomprehensible. It is with pain that I bid farewell even to the beauty of a child - I want the adult who is more primitive and ugly and drier and more difficult, and who became a child-seed that cannot be broken between the teeth.

Nada existe de mais difícil do que entregar-se ao instante. Esta dificuldade é dor humana.

Por que é que você me pede tanta aspirina? Não estou reclamando, embora isso custe dinheiro. - É para eu não me doer. - Como é que é? Hein? Você se dói? - Eu me doo o tempo todo. - Aonde? - Dentro, não sei explicar.

Ahora lo sé: soy sola. Yo y mi liberad que no sé usar. La gran responsabilidad de la soledad. Quien no está perdido no conoce la libertad y no la ama. En cuanto a mí, asumo mi soledad. Que a veces se extasía como ante los fuegos artificiales. Soy sola y tengo que vivir una cierta gloria íntima que en la soledad pueda convertirse en dolor. Y el dolor, en silencio.

Nothing is more difficult than surrendering to the instant. That difficulty is human pain. It is ours. I surrender in words and surrender when I paint.

The steel suddenly touched her heart. Ah, jealousy, it was jealousy, the cold hand mashing her slowly, squeezing her, diminishing her soul.

Estamos intentando la alegría! ¿Sientes al menos eso? ¿Y sientes cómo nos arriesgamos en el peligro? ¿Sientes que hay más seguridad en el dolor tibio?