Pain Quotes - Page 49

People say love isn’t supposed to be painful. But maybe the best things in life are the ones that hurt the most after they’re gone.

Realize that the tests you endure will mold your character, persona, and will. The more heartbreak and pain you will feel with your trials in life, the greater your joy and glory will be once you've overcome. Not IF, not POSSIBLY, not MAYBE, but ONCE you have overcome.

A storm is an artist who passes by on her way to paint your rainbow.

Love gives us happiness, peace then it gives us a lot of pain and you also have to sacrifice your happiness, then you began to hate that person, so fall for friendships. Respect each other’s space and styles, then hangout and enjoy

I asked them: Does it hurt? And the scar people nodded, yes. But it felt somehow wonderful, they said. For one long second, it felt like the world was holding them close.

You," he said, "are a terribly real thing in a terribly false world, and that, I believe, is why you are in so much pain.

When do we stop crying over our own injuries? When we get old enough to swallow our tears, or when the people we love stop responding to our cries of pain?

Then your tail will divide and shrink until it becomes what the people on earth call a pair of shapely legs. But it will hurt; it will feel as if a sharp sword slashed through you. Everyone who sees you will say that you are the most graceful human being they have ever laid eyes on, for you will keep your gliding movement and no dancer will be able to tread as lightly as you. But every step you take will feel as if you were treading upon knife blades so sharp that blood must flow. I am willing to help you, but are you willing to suffer all this?""Yes," the little mermaid said in a trembling voice, as she thought of the Prince and of gaining a human soul.

Could thou not make those that have been made, and be now, and that are for to come, at once; that thou might shew thy judgement the sooner?

To a sensitive being, pity is not seldom pain.

No matter how deep in disgrace, a human being IS human, after all.

Love built on pain-the kind that lasts: whatever you love can be taken away from us at any moment but the loss of what we love belongs to us forever.

With prayer, we can endure the pain.

Take the pain and grow beauty...You know I've always loved volcanoes. I love how they spew searing, deadly lava that goes on to nurture the most beautiful landscapes on earth. It's from searing pain that the deepest beauty can sprout

She wore her pain like lingerie, only who loved her enough, got to see it.

In the artifacts that are conscious, memories of vanished lives still flicker. Tissues that were changed without dying hold the moment that a boy heard his sister was leaving home. They hold multiplication tables. They hold images of sexuality and violence and beauty. They hold the memories of flesh that no longer exists. They hold metaphors: mitochondria, starfish, Hitler’s-brain-in-a-jar, hell realm. They dream. Structures that were neurons twitch and loop and burn and dream. Images and words and pain and fear, endless.

Birthing is never easy or without pain, be it a universe, a child, or a fresh start in life. Contraction precedes expansion. Darkness comes before dawn. Joy follows pain. This is the way of things.

Relief is a wonderful emotion, highly underrated. In fact, I prefer it to elation or joy. Relief lets the air out of the Tire of Pain.

as you know that prior to Search Enggine (google, yahoo, bing etc) our knowledge comes from books. and we often underestimate the cover of the book before reading it. where the universe and everything in it were all neatly recorded in the book .. but unfortunately, lately reduced book reader interest. and tonight I say that the inspiration of the book far more powerful than anything .. not even a lot of writers who took also into his imagination. yes, I started to read

Sometimes she wished for someone she could tell about her problems, just to be able to say, ‘I’m in love with a man and I can’t have him.’ But that would only lead to questions she couldn’t answer, so she kept the secret and the pain inside, hoping someday she would no longer feel as if half of her were missing.

When it comes to mental illness most of the diagnoses are similar or the same yet they can never display how we individually go through our pain.

When I'm in pain I want everyone I love on the island with me, sitting around the fire, getting drunk on coconut milk, banging out a plan.

Mario, what do you get when you cross an insomniac, an unwilling agnostic and a dyslexic?""I give.""You get someone who stays up all night torturing himself mentally over the question of whether or not there's a dog.

And my worst pains are words I cannot say

Loving you is loosing my soul,I was in a lost battle, Death at my door,A dog in a backyard feels for my pain,Beer in a broken bottle wet paint and rain.

I finally found him sitting on his balcony. He was leaning back against the wall with his eyes closed. Soft music played, and a cool ocean breeze blew back my hair as I stepped on to the balcony and inhaled the scent of the sea."May I join you?" I asked softly.He didn’t bother opening his eyes. "If you like."The moon in the dark sky looked like a giant white plate dipping its edge into the ocean. We sat quietly for a while. I closed my eyes too and listened to him hum along in harmony with the music."You haven’t played your guitar in a long time. I miss it," I said when the song was finished.Ren turned away. "I fear there is no music left in me.

We pick at scabs of a bleeding heart because we don’t want time to carry on and allow the wound to heal and scar over, we wish to perpetuate, prolong, and preserve the last time they were close to us, before they walked away.

She looked into the mirror, wiping the mascara that was running down her cheeks with her tears and she saw him standing behind her. With that smile he always had. She touched his reflection and turned around to hug him just to see no one there. She turned back around and looked at the mirror, there he was still standing with that smile. She fell on her knees and said in a feeble voice "come back".

Lord, may the pain be ours, And the weakness that it brings, But at least give us the strength, Of not showing it to anyone!

Though no longer living in silence, I continued to carry pain and memories.

Lords of fire and earth and water,Lords of moon and wind and sky,Come now to the Old Man's daughter,Come from fathers long gone by.Bring blue from a distance eye.Lords of water, earth, and fire,Lords of wind and snow and rain,Give to my heart's desire.Life as all life comes with pain,But blue will come to us again.

...as we proceed to higher and higher levels of expertise, and as the stakes get higher and higher, the agonies of excellence reappear in new and frightening ways. A tiny minority gets through to the top, to memorable excellence or profound understanding. The rest of us stop at stages along the way, perhaps for a temporary rest, perhaps for a period of reassessment. But once we stop, we are unlikely to start up again. Security is suddenly far sweeter than enterprise. The sufferings of the ascent, so long endured by insuppressible aspiration, suddenly seem pointless.

Embrace the pain, Sharum.

Unforgiveness denies the victim the possibility of parole and leaves them stuck in the prison of what was, incarcerating them in their trauma and relinquishing the chance to escape beyond the pain.

It was one of those rare times of shared happiness, of perfect contentment. We had a feeling of expectation, that what was already wonderful would only get better and better as time went on. These moments are one of the rarest, most fragile things in the world. You have to seize the day; you have to recall all the rotten, dirty things you endured to earn this peace. You have to remember to enjoy each minute, each hour, because although you may feel like it's going to last forever, the world plans otherwise. You want to be grateful for every precious second, but you simply can't do it. It's not in human nature to live life to the fullest. Haven't your ever noticed that equal amounts of pain and joy are not, in fact, equal in duration? Pain drags on until you wonder if life will ever be bearable again; pleasure, though, once it's reached its peak, fades faster than a trodden gardenia, and your memory searches in vain for the sweet scent.

After or before any happiness, someone must cry.

The only pleasing thing in life is pain. Pain creates pleasure, but not in the literal way.

Affliction compels us to recognize as real what we do not think possible.

Take out the garbage...true happiness comes from within not from without!

I caught a red bird once, I fell in love with her,Took the red bird home with me,I saw her eyes, at saw my peace,I love the red bird much, I cut her wings, I wanted the bird to stay, I made a cage for her,No wings, and trapped, the red bird cried, I saw her eyes in pain; it broke my heart to see,I was the one to blame, for the red bird’s pain, It grew back its wings, no longer in the cage,She looked at me once more, spread its wings and left,I loved that red bird still; I wish she was with meBut now I know for sure , her pain was caused by me.

No pain that we suffer, no trial that we experience is wasted. It ministers to our education, to the development of such qualities as patience, faith, fortitude and humility. All that we suffer and all that we endure, especially when we endure it patiently, builds up our characters, purifies our hearts, expands our souls, and makes us more tender and charitable, more worthy to be called the children of God . . . and it is through sorrow and suffering, toil and tribulation, that we gain the education that we come here to acquire and which will make us more like our Father and Mother in heaven.

I would rather have a man chasing JESUS than a house full of stuffs and garrage filled with big cars.

I don't want to die. I deserve, certainly, the most extreme punishment society has, and I think society deserves to be protected from me and from others like me. That's the irony. What I'm talking about is going beyond retribution because there is no way in the world that killing me is going to restore those beautiful children to their parents and correct and soothe the pain.

It is doubtful whether God can bless a man greatly until He has hurt him deeply.

I hold on to faith and hope.

Almost every day I can feel myself suffering mainly in the head, I can explain the pain to myself but knowing it comes from an inflammation of my imagination doesn't prevent it being reality itself. What's more I'd be crazy not to go crazy. We don't know what an illness is. On awful hurts we plaster little old words, as if we could think hell with a paper bandage.

Weeping Widows"There is a river that cuts ThroughThe heart of EveAnd flows throughParadise's back window.It streams into A bottomless wellThat rolls down to hellWith the tears of theWeeping widows.The women stand along the well,And cryWhile singing gray lullabiesAs orphaned childrenLight up candles to put on palm leavesTo push into the streamWith petals of jasmine And pieces of tangerine,Then sit back and wait for their fatherTo show up over the horizon Where his heart still beatsIn their dreams.

He was exhausted ,tired to his core ,The 'weight' of the world was crushing his soul!He carried so much ,Within him , for so so long ."Beast of burden" - that's what he was!His rugged face filled with battle scars That only 'he' could feelThe "smile" he wore was a 'helmet' ...Waiting for his breath to escape for good Praying for his final relief.

Don't look my appearance,my lookMy Soul has a beautiful Grave

If you were to love, love not for the lust that you yearn but the rather the pain that you earn with it. Remember though that the ones who brave the pain are eternally bound in Cupid's chain. It is these chains that many of us fear. The fear of losing the freedom of choosing for self. The fear of placing the needs of our better halves before our own. The fear is understandable for history has taught us to despise and the society has given us the chance to entice. However, if you were to pause and think ever about - love - then do remember that the chain which upon acceptance binds you in amour is the same which upon rejection arrests us to an ague called lonesome depression. Few survive in love, but fewer without it.

I checked my words carefully. Words more powerful than atom bombs and more cutting than AK-47s. People are fragile and words, not bullets will break them, and once they break every part of them spills out. Their soul, spirit, identity, ugliness, and their beauty. It’s all there, right in front of you if you know where to look. Most people see the ugly and I didn't want to become that. I thought I looked for beauty but then wondered why I often say such ugly things.

Often, things are left unsaid. Everyone is guilty of thinking and feeling things... of loving or appreciating others... and of taking for granted that those others will just be there... to continue to share life's journey with...Then when one is gone... so quickly... all those things left unsaid... they matter more, because they were unspoken...Everyone fights their own battles inside themselves... often no one outside them even knows the wars that rage inside even those who they are closest to...I'd like to take the time, here and now, to tell all of you... those close to me, and those who aren't... those who matter so much... and those who have influenced me in even the smallest ways... all of you... that you matter. You are important. You are appreciated. Don't for a moment think otherwise. Don't, for even an instant, think or feel that you are not a wonder... a gift to the world... that makes it a better place to be... or that it would ever, in any way, be anything less than a tragedy for you to leave before your time.

We were despised and trampled upon but the Lord lifted us.

I cried out at the sudden visitation of pain, everyone in a silent church standing in a rustle of suits and dresses to bend back their longest fingernail.

Nothing says hell has to be fire.

Life cracks us into unrecognizable shards of former incarnations. Slivers of our hurt and our pain and our shame nestles next to fragments of our truth, our divinity, our fierce reclamation of power.It is this very brokenness that allows us to knit together, kaleidoscope style. And we spin and shift and turn to the light until we appear brilliant, lit from within. Suddenly we are revealed; unexpected beauty born directly from brokenness.We have to be willing to break in order to become.

A warrior is defined by his scars, not his medals.

Do I need a safe word?" "You either tust me or you don't, Emily.

I didn't know where it would lead. I wanted things to develop naturally.

May the Lord fight your battles for you.