Pain Quotes - Page 40

How hard it is to now believe that these strong, merciless chains of fear and hopelessness, rendering the limbs of my mind motionless, were once innocuous mere threads.” -Mehul.M

Jealousy from a love affair is something even God can admit.

Pain withheld becomes hate, pain shared becomes love.

Sometimes we want God to use us to do big things when we would not even want to do the basics.

The things you let go will someday teach you how to fly.

I bought this place for a pittance, because it was a dump. Rejected, abandoned, unwanted. Like me. I fixed it up. Made it mine.

Rage and revenge sat in his heart fanned by time and silence. Before he could realise anything, he was engulfed in flames. Everything he touched, lost its existence in his life. Turning him into a monster, who destroys everything in a daylight but cries in dark and silence.

We look before and after,And pine for what is not;Our sincerest laughterWith some pain is fraught;Our sweetest songs are those that tell Of saddest thought.

I have these knives in my chest that can't become words.

What will he then do unto his name whereby we are called? ...of these things have I asked.

unheard and unseen { protected } from the vision of whatwe would look cute togetherreally means words do{ lie } amongst thelol’s and just kiddings{ hearts } lay awakedreaming nightmares of unicorns disguised as demonschase away{ hope } causing it to remain

Every pain is a lesson.

There was a beautiful feeling of calm in my groin, a sense of peace so remarkable it was almost ecstasy——anyone who' suffered bad pain and then recovered will know what I'm talking about.

Don't misunderstand people by smile or appearance.every person is not living life some one just spend the life

Not for the first time, it occurred to me that sorrow could be purified into song the same way a piece of coal is purified into a diamond.

Our Ancestors knew that healing comes in cycles and circles.One generation carries the pain so that the next can live and heal.One cannot live without the other, each is the other's hope, meaning & strength.

Every broken heart has screamed at one time or another: Why can't you see who I truly am?

It was almost painful to be different.

I must be ever so careful to remember that my pain is a precious salve that when used in the service of others can heal a thousand wounds and more. And I must likewise remember that if I do not use it as such, I have done nothing more than wound myself yet again.

Don’t live your life with anger and hate in your heart as you will only be hurting yourself more than the people you hate.

Love isn't about to show off or to go on dates. Its about being with a person who makes you feel special, who gives you a feeling that no one else does. The one who can completely understand you and can laugh on your lame jokes. The one to whom you trust the most and can share your problems. The one who can make wrong things right. Person with whom you can spend your whole life.

...glass words for you, Beloved—rain beads from an abacus of pain...

I don't understand how the pain of losing him can be a pale shadow in comparison to the pain of finding him again.

When I'm triggered, I think, "This will last forever" or "What if this lasts forever?" I get thoughts about how I should give up, run away, hide, protect myself. These thoughts, I cannot change. What I can change is how I respond to them. Will I unconditionally believe these ideas, or will I accept them as side effects of the temporary experience of pain? Will I act on each thought that arises in the burning fire, or will I hold myself gently and say, "It'll be okay. I know it hurts. I love you"? My power lies in these choices.

Grief is shameless; it refuses to be ignored. If you let it have its way, it becomes fatal. If you try to remove it piece by piece, it only multiplies like a tumor. And if you try to fight it, it becomes like quicksand; you try to claw your way back to the surface, and for a second you feel the fresh air against your face, thinking you've survived, only to be pulled fiercely back down again, swallowed whole, nothing left.

Chronic illness is hard. Pain is hard. Isolation is hard. The financial cost is hard. Grieving is hard and necessary and sometimes takes far longer than we every imagined.

With a strong spirit , you heal every bruise.

And this time as the lashes come, try to think about the pain, instead of against it, because there is not one single aspect of life, past, present, or future, that does not tear your reason from you, to think on it. So think about the pain. This pain after all has its limits. You can chart its passage through your body. It has a beginning, middle, end. Imagine if it had a color. The first cut of the lash is what, red? Red, spreading into a brilliant yellow. And this one again, red, red, no yellow, and then white, white, white, white. . .Why have you incarcerated yourself in this palazzo of torture chambers, why do you not leave this place? Because you are a monster and this is a school for monsters, and if you leave here, then you will be completely, completely alone! Alone with this!Don't weep in front of these strangers. Swallow it down. Don't weep in front of these strangers! Cry to heaven, cry to heaven, cry to heaven.

I respect the hell out of her for how hard she’s working to be okay. I just wish she’d let me show her how to let go, how to let herself hurt. I want to take her pain.

There is the pain that made me cry, and then there is the strength that made me stop crying.So I am glad the pain camebecause without it I would not have discovered my strength.

I care not that this moment’s lot was thin and sparsely dealt all pleasures sweet can be forgot the instant they are felt.

Continued pain is a signal to the body that there's something wrong, not right.Lucy ScarboroughNancy Werlin

Sometimes we hurt the ones we love, but hurting ourselves to avoid it doesn’t make it better.

I cried to the Lord. He heard my tears of prayer, from His holy hill.

I am what I am and not what others make of me.

I’ve reached the vanishing point without you.Here my heartache begins with your paintrying to find an unborn startin this fatal disappearanceFrom the poem ‘Me with the Vanishing Point

Krissa, tough Lady Krissa, who had stood by impassively while Areau vomited out ten years of bitter addiction, wiped her eyes and offered Areau Mrs. Wrinkle’s pie in comfort, and it suddenly occurred to Areau in the strangest, most dreamlike of ways, that his pain was not the only pain on the planet.

There is no pain like the pain of transformation.

Oddly, the burned hand didn't seem to hurt much anymore; it was only numb. It would have been better if there had been pain. Pain was at least real.

He's such a dragHe's not insaneIt's just that everybodyHas to feel his pain.

Not without design does God write the music of our lives. Be it ours to learn the tune, and not be dismayed at the 'rests.' They are not to be slurred over, not to be omitted, not to destroy the melody, not to change the keynote. If we look up, God Himself will beat the time for us. With the eye on Him, we shall strike the next note full and clear. If we sadly say to ourselves, "There is no music in a 'rest,'" let us not forget '"there is the making of music in it." The making of music is often a slow and painful process in this life. How patiently God works to teach us! How long He waits for us to learn the lesson! - Ruskin

He left her. She was dissatisfied with him. He had preferred to incur her anger rather than cause her pain. He had kept all the pain for himself.

We stand a professional distance apart, as if I can’t feel his pain screaming in my head. Mine amplifies his; they share a joint sound—that of glass breaking—until they swell to a crescendo that deafens.

Without a word or hesitation, Pain took the mop from Nick. Suffering moved to pick up glass."Wow. Where have you two been all my life?"Pain quirked and eyebrow as he mopped the floor."Walking hand in hand with you. Haven't you noticed?

Of pain you could wish only one thing: that it should stop. Nothing in the world was so bad as physical pain. In the face of pain there are no heroes.

You want to find out a mode of renunciation that will be an escape from pain. I tell you again, there is no such escape possible except by perverting or mutilating one's nature. What would become of me, if I tried to escape pain? Scorn and cynicism would be my only opium; unless I could fall into some kind of conceited madness, and fancy myself a favourite of Heaven because I am not a favourite with men.

But William Stoner knew of the world in a way that few of his younger colleagues could understand. Deep in him, beneath his memory, was the knowledge of hardship and hunger and endurance and pain.

Nothing begins and nothing ends That is not paid with moan For we are born in others' pain And perish in our own.

Like alcohol and poverty, a heartbreak has the power to make a man do something he wouldn’t normally do and to make a woman do someone she wouldn’t normally do.

Everything was a metaphor; all things were something other than themselves. The pain, for example, was an ocean, and he was adrift on it. His body was a city and his mind a citadel. All communications between the two seemed to have been cut, but within the keep that was his mind he still had power. The part of his consciousness that was telling him the pain did not hurt, and that all things were like other things, was like...like...he found it hard to think of a comparison. A magic mirror, maybe.

I wish she could see how it hits him. The look on his face, his life caving in. Because then maybe she’d realize, if only for a split second, that even though the world doesn’t matter to her, she matters to the world.

Can't look at the damage that's been done, it's not healthy. Have to look ahead of it. Can't change what I've done, only what I'm gonna do.

But whenever tragedy strikes, one is left either to die or with a plethora of ifs and buts to ponder over.

It is not fit that I should give myself pain, for I have never intentionally given pain even to another.

at first I thought you were just using me" she said"I definitely am." I just wasn't sure for what."Asshole!" she said, and punched me in the side. And she laughed as my kidney began to hemorrhage.That's the beauty of honesty. Everyones so unused to hearing it they just assume you're kidding, and you get to feel very good and forthcoming without suffering any consequences except for traces of blood in your urine for the next day or two.

There are heartaches in life, painful things that happen and disappointments that steal away dreams.

Sacred signs always come when your soul calls out in pain or joy.

...you disappoint me -I am the worst liar in the world - I can't hide my pain or my need so I make a bouquet of my sorrows and give them to you ...

Don't allow unforgiveness to make you unhappy.

Sitting alone in the alley of dark submissive loneliness.Retrospecting on the things that were left unsaid , only if they weren't ! The monsters within my head grow stronger everyday ,Fighting them everyday , I wonder , does it make me an unsung hero , no one knows about ! ? May be I will die like a unknown martyer within my own hallucinations Or may be perhaps I may be a sacrificial lamb .Happiness is but a dream I cherish most , I need peace , I have none .Set me free , I have been broken I want to breath ., my last ! I want to be free at last !