Best 10157 quotes in «pain quotes» category

I wanted to show these people who he really was. And pain always did that, took the insides out." pg 364

I wanted to say something to make her pain go away and make everything better. But, I realized that there was no answer. Bad things happen to good people. Rain always falls on the people who deserve nothing less than the sun.

I wanted to peel myself off of me.

I wanted to stay locked away from the pain and destruction. I didn't want to be strong. I didn't want to be the 'smart girl'. I was so very tired. I just wanted it all to be over.

I wanted to see her sad. Taste her tears. I wanted to know what she sounded like when she cried. In pain, in pleasure, in both.

I want to be the one who make stories, I want to hurt the way I get hurt, I want to experience how does it feel to be a cheater, a liar, a betrayer, to come up with quick stories to hide the faults, to know that I’ve hurt someone still blame the person for being mad but damn! I turn out to be the loyal one all the time who makes all the efforts to continue the relationship and stay honest and it hurts as fuck!

I want you to be honest with me. Even if it hurts. Although I would prefer for it not to hurt. - A

I want you to learn that if you don't keep picking at old wounds, over time they will eventually heal. Oh sure, sometimes they will leave a nasty, jagged scar, but at least it won't hurt like it did anymore, and if you don't look at it, sometimes you can almost forget it's there.

I was aware that I was taking inordinate pleasure in small, technological events and objects, and that this was probably a semiconscious tactic meant to evade confronting certain agonizing life events which were probably not resolvable and were destined to cause unrelenting pain and distress; yet the pleasure was real, and I took it greedily.

I was crying for all of us. There's so much pain everywhere, and we just close our eyes to it. The truth is we're all scared. We're terrified of each other.

I was extremely worried. What would happen to me now that they knew that I had lost my mind? Would they put me in a padded cell and feed me through a hatch door? Would I end up in one of those places that you hear about, where people go in but never come out?

I was everything I was ever asked to be, and as my reward my life was burned to ash. Do not speak to me of easing my pain. My pain is all I have left. Do not speak to me of being a Shadowhunter. I am not one of them. I refuse to be.

I was going into shock. The pain wasn’t getting any better, and I thought that I would probably black out before I found out how this was going to end. Just as well—I was never particularly good at finishing things.

I was girly and friendly and my family life was happy but many days I felt like I was on the inside what Chase was on the outside. I always believed I was a happy person with a sad soul. I felt like I had had tragedy in my life when I hadn’t. Somehow, without having experienced what he had, his scars resonated with me.

I was not weak; I did not cry. But it hurt me, more in a kind of refreshing, thrilling way, than a kind of pain that would cripple me and send me away crying. My fingernails dug into the palms of my hands, and my teeth bit into my lips, my knees were locked, but I could not faint.

I was not a doper, I told myself - I just injected myself to recover and needed pills to sleep.

I was not looking for HIM, he was just always there, the little BOY! I have not seen HIM, because I did not want to see, but HE was standing next to my bed every night, the little BOY! I have not heard their cry because I have forbidden HIM there to cry. But one day, when I woke up, did I knew seen, so sad and lonely! I wanted to tell HIM that it's all going to be good. But I could not because I knew that it is not so! And we both cried, I and the LITTLE BOY IN ME!

I was overpowered by the mere sensation of that dream and it alone survived in my sorely wounded heart.

I was pregnable once,” Merill thought to contribute. She remembered how troublesome it made getting around, having a ripe belly. Couldn’t roll properly, couldn’t hop properly, couldn’t romp or flop properly. There were the cravings for roasted cabbage—she loathed cabbage, with its leaves and growing in rows. And labor! Merill passed out during childbirth. She’d endured burns, lacerations, rips, serrated teeth, nails, hooks and a trove of unmentionable harm-inflictors. Labor trounced them all and wriggled gleefully in the spray of blood and gore. “Being pregnable is no good. No good at all. Like growing a bitter melon in your belly.

I was realizing something I should have known by using my intelligence, without ever having gone to their flat at all: that the ties between Nelson and his wife are bitterly close, and never to be broken in their lives. They are tied by the closest of all bonds, neurotic pain-giving; the experience of pain dealt and received; pain as an aspect of love; apprehended as a knowledge of what the world is, what growth is. Nelson is about to leave his wife; he will never leave her. She will wail at being rejected and abandoned; she does not know she will never be rejected.

I was reminded of the old pain, a pain once so intense it was physical.

I was unhappy there and going through a rough transition, so I was desperate for any friend I could find that I could talk to. I thought that's what he was. We had this secret from my mom, who I didn't like much at the time. It was a harmless secret, so I didn't feel bad about it. All we did was go to the movies and hang out doing fun things all day. It wasn't until much later that the warning signs began, but I was still too young and stupid to see them for what they were at the time. Basically, he was patient as he built up the trust between us. He became a close friend and convinced me that he was on my side somehow. He took total advantage of my ignorance and totally betrayed me a few years later, when he slept with me. After my mom found out, she went psychotic and all she gave a fuck about was what had been done to her. She didn't care about anything except for how hurt she was by what had happened. She blamed me and him equally, telling me that sixteen years old was old enough to know better. Even though I never initiated a goddamn thing with him, and never would have. Even though it happened in the apartment she and I had gotten together, that he was not supposed to be staying in.

I was watching while you're dancing away, our love got fractured in the echo and sway. How come everybody wants to be your friend? You know that it still hurts me just to say it.

I was talking to a friend last night, about pain. She said, "Pain doesn't go away, does it? It just lessens with time." And I said, "I think that the pain can be turned into other things... the pain is like the holes in the ground, but I think that we can turn the holes in the ground into little pools of water we can jump into. It's still a part of us, but, we can change its nature. Hopefully. Sometimes." And I think that just might be true.

I was the worst kind of fool. When I look back on that August night, changed forever by all my wounds and all my suffering, that undamaged Odd Thomas seems like a different human being from me, immeasurably more confident than I am now, still able to hope, but not as wise, and I mourn for him.

I was such a quiet kid, so shy and calm and in my own head. Of course I knew about being sad. Maybe that's the reason I saved all the things I thought were pretty.

I watched life and death unfold like a dance on the side of that road. My son was born with a bloodstained face and he died with blood from the accident covering that same face.

I went to a concert upstairs in Town Hall. The composer whose works were being performed had provided program notes. One of these notes was to the effect that there is too much pain in the world. After the concert I was walking along with the composer and he was telling me how the performances had not been quite up to snuff. So I said, "Well, I enjoyed the music, but I didn't agree with that program note about there being too much pain in the world." He said, "What? Don't you think there's enough?" I said, "I think there's just the right amount.

I went closer this time and touched him. He let out a deafening shriek, as if something had pierced into his heart. I held his hand and sat there, admiring the intricate network of life on them. The creases and folds in his body were testament to the cruelty that he had been subjected to in this world. The watery eyes screamed of the pain, the agonising wait to leave this godforsaken place forever, that had given him nothing but pleadings for mercy.

I watched love and life play out in a million ways, but one of the best things I learned was this: You don't outrun pain.

I went into a forest into a plain, and the trees took counsel- And said, Come, let us go and make war against the sea that it may depart away before us, and that we may make us more woods. The floods of the sea also in like manner took counsel, and said, Come, let us go up and subdue the woods of the plain, that there also we may make us another country. The thought of the wood was in vain, for the fire came and consumed it. The thought of the floods of the sea came likewise to nought, for the sand stood up and stopped them. If thou wart judge now betwixt these two, whom would thou begin to justify? or whom would thou condemn?

I wept because from now on I will weep less. I wept because I have lost my pain and I am not yet accustomed to its absence.

I will be waiting for you at the end of every blind alley, under the lonely streetlamps of a city that will no longer be ours. When the wind grows colder and the huge piles of settled leaves sit there for a week or two, unshielded from the curious gaze of passersby, I will be waiting for you. I will be waiting for what could have been and for what will never be; For the letters that never arrived, the letters that were never sent, and the letters that will never be written.

I will fill the poems with great pain

I will go tell him of Hermia's flight: Then to the wood will he to-morrow night Pursue her; and for this intelligence If I have thanks, it is a dear expense: But herein mean I to enrich my pain, To have his sight thither and back again.

I will lead a man to dear one -- I don't want the little joy -- And I'll quietly lay to sleep The glad, tired little boy. In a chilly room once more I will pray to Mother of God, It is hard to be a hermit, To be happy is also hard. Only fiery sleep will come to me, I'll enter a temple on the hill, Five-domed, white, and stone-hewn, On the paths remembered well.

I will liken my judgment unto a ring: like as there is no slackness of the last, even so there is no swiftness of the first.

I will love you forever and that's my vow. I say we can live in the dreams we made And since you built 'em, I know they'll never fade.

I Will Never Love Again A million tears fall from my eyes; I can't continue with this life; I don't know why I fall in love If love is only meant to hurt me

I will not dream anymore, you said. I will not set myself up for the pain. But then your team made the playoffs, or you saw a movie, or a billboard glowing dusky orange and advertising Aruba, or a girl who bore more than a passing resemblance to a woman you'd dated in high school— a woman you'd loved and lost— danced above you with shimmering eyes, and you said, fuck it, let's dream just one more time.

I WILL REJECT DEATH IF I KNOW HAND COME" but ..................... We would not be able to resist the will of god. Whenever, wherever you are. may god is ready to take your life. and honestly death is only the secrets of god almighty one.

I wished that I had died, it would have been better for everyone

I wish I could tell him that we’re going through the same thing. I wish I could speak to him like I want to instead of like I’m supposed to. But the idea of admitting that I need help is too much to bear, so I turn away.

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.

I wish that the last breath of your life is a sigh of relief.

I wish I had lost an arm or a leg. It would have been much easier than losing a part of my heart, which lives on, but now beats to a different rhythm.

I wondered if there was anything [the doctor] could do to to make the pain disappear and my arms work again. I wondered if I was going to get any worse than I already was. If so, I wondered if he could fix that, too.

I wish there was some method to transform all the agony in my imprudent heart to an energy source. It would have lit up the world till eternity!!!

I wonder now, is there is a word for strength leaving your body? Or love? What of its arrival? Or is it only pain that the body names, and then only in it’s leaving? It is true, I know, that there are some things for which there are no words. Only the spaces between the words we know to say all that must be said And I think about how some calls come deep, for years and years before I finally answer. I wonder why this is so. And I wonder what this tells you about me.

I wonder if anybody else feels this way, if anyone in here is as scared as I am. Are they as sad and angry and confused and ashamed? Is that even possible? Is it even possible for one building to hold all that pain?