Best 10157 quotes in «pain quotes» category

Move forward doesn´t mean avoiding the pain, but look towards a new day in spite of the rain.

Msamaha si jambo dogo. Watu wadogo, watu wenye uwezo mdogo wa kufikiri, hawawezi kupambana na changamoto za msamaha. Msamaha ni kwa ajili ya watu wenye macho kama ya tai wanaoweza kuona mbali ambao wako tayari kushindwa vita ili washinde vita. Hewa inaingia ndani ya mapafu na kutoka; chakula kinaingia ndani ya mwili na kutoka; mwanamasumbwi anapigana bila kugombana; injini ya gari haiwezi kusukuma gari mbele au nyuma bila kutoa hewa katika paipu ya ekzosi. Lakini kile kinachoingia moyoni mwako hakitoki! Maumivu yanapoingia ndani ya moyo yanapaswa kutoka nje kama yalivyoingia kwa sababu, yasipotoka yatatengeneza sumu ndani ya moyo wako na yatatengeneza sumu ndani ya roho yako pia. Sumu hiyo itahatarisha safari yako ya mbinguni na Mungu hatakusamehe tena. Badala ya yule aliyekukosea kuumia, utaumia wewe uliyekosewa. Yesu anaposema samehe saba mara sabini hatanii. Usiposamehe, hutasamehewa.

Mungu alisema tupendane katika shida na raha; Luka 6:27-36. Katika matatizo mpende hasimuyo. Maumivu ya watu hufanana.

music heals the loneliness but healing loneliness isn't healing pain

My advice for those of you who felt being marginalised, undervalued and taken for granted; guess what? That is the Arena where God creates Leaders.

My arms are empty without you! My heart cries out, lonely in the darkness, but you are not here. No tears shall bring you back into my arms again. My mothers love was not strong enough to keep you, but it is strong enough to follow and find you, though all the mists of Eternity should try to come between!

My art is largely made up of my pain; re-framed, redesigned and re-purposed. It's a mutually beneficial experience for both the creator and the beholder. Transformative healing is a beautiful process.

My body was a Pandora’s box of aches and pains. When Grandpa died all the ailments came jumping out. I was forever twitching and shaking. I had a persistent sore throat and had difficulty swallowing except when I was taking nips from my illicit cocktail. I was constantly constipated, holding everything in — a disorder that had started when I was two years old. It burned when I passed urine, and my migraines were so severe it felt on occasions as if I were going blind.

My distant but always a close friend, the loss of a mother is always painful for her children, I am beside you in this hour of grief. Life can be a stepmother , really severe! but in return also too short. soon will come the time you will say the words that you didn't said , you will do what you did not have time to do, to forgive you own for what you did not want to sayd .... Time exists in our soul, only the spirit is eternal.

my dearest agony let us be together, i am not seasoned for this solitude.

My faith gives me the ability to say, whatever is next, I'm ready. If it is Hillary or Trump I am ready because they might sit on the desk but they do not sit on the throne.

My father liked to wonder aloud whether the phoenix was re-created by the fire of its funeral pyre or transformed so that what emerged was a soulless shadow of its former being, identical in appearance but without the joy in life its predecessor had had. He wondered alternatively whether the fire might be purificatory, a redemptive, rejuvenating blaze that destroyed the withered shell of the old phoenix and allowed the creature’s essence to emerge stronger than it was before in a young, new body. Or, he would ask, was the fire a manifestation of entropy, slowly sapping the life-energy of the phoenix over the eons, a little death in a life that could know no beginning and no end but which could nonetheless be subject to an ever-decreasing magnitude? He asked me once if I thought the fires in our lives, the traumas, increased our fulfillment by setting up contrasts that illuminated more clearly our everyday joys; or perhaps I viewed them instead as tests that made us stronger by teaching us to endure; or did I believe, rather, that they simply amplified what we already were, in the end making the strong stronger, the weak weaker, and the dangerous deadly?

my enemies don't scared me .. but the people who say I love you

My future has been completely and utterly paved by the shattered pieces of a heart that you broke.

my garden in the sun and in the rain and in the day and in the night pain is a flower pain is flowers blooming all the time.

My fingers stroking the bark, seeking a Braille code, a clue, a message on how to come back to life after my long undersnow dormancy. I have survived. I am here. Confused, screwed up, but here. So how can I find my way? Is there a chainsaw of the soul, an ax I can take to my memories or fears?

My greatest pain in life is that I will never be able to see myself perform live.

...my heart is a desolate field over which geese vee, the sky turns and the days lie fallow...

My head ached. I was thinking of the pain, and wondering how it was possible for physical agony to be so intense. I had never imagined that such a torture could be endured. Yet here was I, both conscious and able to think clearly. And not only to think, but to observe the process and make calculations about it. The steel circle round my skull was closing in with faint cracking noises. How much farther could it shrink? I counted the cracking sounds. Since I took the triple dose of pain-killer, there had been two more. …I took out my watch and laid it on the table. “Give me morphia,” I said in a calm, hostile, icy tone. “You mustn’t take morphia! You know perfectly well. The very idea! And what are you doing with that watch?” “You will give me morphia within three minutes.” They looked me uneasily up and down. No one moved. Three minutes went by. Then ten more. I slipped the watch calmly into my pocket and rose unsteadily to my feet. “Then take me to the Fiakker Bar. They say it’s a good show, and to-night I want to enjoy myself.” The others jumped up with a feeling of relief. I never confessed the secret to anyone, either then or afterwards. I had made up my mind at the end of those three minutes — for the first and last time in my life — that if my headache had not stopped within the next ten I should throw myself under the nearest tram. It never came out whether I should have kept to my resolve, for the pain left with the suddenness of lighting.

My heart had been crush torn and crumble but I'm still here and I'm not broken I'm still fighting my way out

My heart never broken, it has been murdered

My heart is shattered, an all that's left are jagged shards.

my life was lived through falling rain so call on me if there be pain

My joy is like Spring, so warm it makes flowers bloom all over the Earth. My pain is like a river of tears, so vast it fills the four oceans. Please call me by my true names, so I can hear all my cries and laughter at once, so I can see that my joy and pain are one.

My life is nothing more than bad timing separated by unimaginable moments of tragedy. I'd reconciled my pain with the promise of revenge ... until her.

My life is so empty, that even death doesn't wont to take me!

My life consists of two things, Pain and hardship that no one but me can describe, Love and joy that can only be mesured in who I am

My life is a room filled with love letters and goodbye notes.

My life is more than a waiting period; it is an expedition. How I perceive it, and how I improve upon it is solely up to me.

My pain is ugly, Angel Juan. I feel like I have so much ugly pain,' says Witch Baby in a dream. 'Everyone does,' Angel Juan says. 'My mother says that pain is hidden in everyone you see. She says try to imagine it like big bunches of flowers that everyone is carrying around with them. Think of your pain like a big bunch of red roses, a beautiful thorn necklace. Everyone has one.

My mediocrity is no secret; My battles with it are

My pains, sometimes seem like witch hunters: confess, confess, confess. Like a heavy stone on my rib-cage. Confess to what? And, of course, I would confess, if only I knew what it was they wanted to hear.

My people cultivated pain. In a way that god cultivated his garden with the foresight that he could not contain or protect the life within it. Humanity was born out of pain.

My poetry is a journey in the depth of my heart, in the abyss of my conscious, underneath this realm and transcending horizons. Is who I was, who I am and who I had become.

My soul hurts.

my sin doesn't make you innocent

My view [is] that what morality boils down to is, 'Don’t harm, and do help.' And now the question is, 'Can creatures like chickens and cows be harmed?' And the answer is, 'Of course they can.' Consequently, I think it’s immoral to harm them. And that seems to me to provide a very strong moral reason to be vegetarian, to not wear leather... it seems to me that our treatment of animals is morally appalling... and that we ought to radically revise the way we live, precisely because they feel pain, they can be hurt, and we’re constantly hurting these creatures!

My tattoo Tattooed in my memory and the pain it brings me. I scream within. All cried out, not a tear to soothe me. Drugs and Alcohol numb me. People say to see a therapist. I don't think so. Christians say to forgive. I don't believe so. My pain will never let me forget. my tattoo is permanent.

My memories hurt, but I wanted to preserve them.

My mother's death supervened, and this was the greatest blow I had experienced in my life. I worshipped her... I could not resign myself to the loss of a being on whom I counted to make invisible the unavoidable blemishes of my soul.

My pain is the real cure. Because it makes me go deep into my soul!

My own love was never mine and now I don't even have a dream of loving again.

My pain is there at his place but my lips start smile when i feel how she is happy and enjoying life with her choice.what you need more than happiness of your loves one.

My pain is there at the place. but I feel internal happiness when I see how she is happy and enjoying life with her choice What you need more than the happiness of your loved one

my soul has shadows – nooks and crannies where griefs, like cobwebs, collect

My soul is crushed under the weight of tears I can’t spill.

My takeaway from all of Ophelia's sessions was that life favored value. The world was bursting with opportunity. If you didn't like who you were, it was time to reinvent yourself and try again. It was a disservice to the universe to cheat everyone of your talents. And if you were at your wit's end, thinking you had nothing to offer, it was essential to cultivate value within yourself in order to move forward. In order to live beyond existence. In order to turn your pain into something beautiful.

My word stink of blood and gore of sleepless nights of invisible demons of razors and knives of slashed wrists My words - they stink.

My youth is like a scab: under it there is a wound that every day leaks blood. It disfigures me.

Na hum kisi k, na koi hamara, Kon chale saath, kon bane Sahara, Beet Gaya vo waqt, kal jo tha hamara, Reh Gaya bas dard, aur ek zakhm gehra, Aksar yaad aata, uska woh chehra, Kuch bhooli baatein, aur hasna woh hamara, Jate jate aksar, uska woh ruk jana, Aur ye kehna, kaash thaher jaye ye waqt hamara, Jabhi yaad karta hu mein, apna woh waqt sunhera, Saath chali aati hai, uski yaadon ka pehra, Ab aur kya bataun, khul na jaye ye raaz hamara, Varna mazaak udayegi ye duniya, Tuta dil hai bechara, Na hum kisi k, na koi hamara, Kon chale saath, kon bane Sahara