Best 10157 quotes in «pain quotes» category

Being in love with your best friend is problematic.

Being married or being in a close relationship is not based on how quickly you can get offended but on how you are ready to drop the offences, get over it and move ahead.

Being with her I feel a pain, like a frozen knife stuck in my chest. An awful pain, but the funny thing is I'm thankful for it. It's like that frozen pain and my very existence are one. The pain is an anchor, mooring me here.

Being strong doesn't mean that you never break! Being strong means that even if you break into a million pieces, you still have the courage to pick those pieces up, put them back together, and keep going on.

Believe in pain, it can alter the personalities.

Bellamy recostou-se com um suspiro e fechou os olhos, pensando no tempo que passaria até que ela deixasse de ser a última pessoa em que pensava antes de adormecer.

...beneath torrents of spring rain, buds come to life - and we do too, beneath torments of tears...

beneath the pain of your fears, wild and ready, lives your truth, the essence of your singular beauty, hoping, waiting for you to set it free.

Be patient and endure the times. Your glorious days shall come to pass.

Berdoa di status" cara biar terkesan alim. Tapi sesungguhnya itu hanya pencitraan dan cari perhatian...

Be thankful to those painful moments of your life, because that has what shaped you to become who you are now.

Be strong. You will overcome the challenge.

Betrayal converts our innocence to wisdom if we can let go of pain, bitterness, and fear and create enough self-love and safety for ourselves to allow it to do so.

Betrayal is too kind a word to describe a situation in which a father says he loves his daughter but claims he must teach her about the horrors of the world in order to make her a stronger person; a situation in which he watches or participates in rituals that make her feel like she is going to die. She experiences pain that is so intense that she cannot think; her head spins so fast she can't remember who she is or how she got there. All she knows is pain. All she feels is desperation. She tries to cry out for help, but soon learns that no one will listen. No matter how loud she cries, she can't stop or change what is happening. No matter what she does, the pain will not stop. Her father orders her to be tortured and tells her it is for her own good. He tells her that she needs the discipline, or that she has asked for it by her misbehavior. Betrayal is too simple a word to describe the overwhelming pain, the overwhelming loneliness and isolation this child experiences. As if the abuse during the rituals were not enough, this child experiences similar abuse at home on a daily basis. When she tries to talk about her pain, she is told that she must be crazy. "Nothing bad has happened to you;' her family tells her Each day she begins to feel more and more like she doesn't know what is real. She stops trusting her own feelings because no one else acknowledges them or hears her agony. Soon the pain becomes too great. She learns not to feel at all. This strong, lonely, desperate child learns to give up the senses that make all people feel alive. She begins to feel dead. She wishes she were dead. For her there is no way out. She soon learns there is no hope. As she grows older she gets stronger. She learns to do what she is told with the utmost compliance. She forgets everything she has ever wanted. The pain still lurks, but it's easier to pretend it's not there than to acknowledge the horrors she has buried in the deepest parts of her mind. Her relationships are overwhelmed by the power of her emotions. She reaches out for help, but never seems to find what she is looking for The pain gets worse. The loneliness sets in. When the feelings return, she is overcome with panic, pain, and desperation. She is convinced she is going to die. Yet, when she looks around her she sees nothing that should make her feel so bad. Deep inside she knows something is very, very wrong, but she doesn't remember anything. She thinks, "Maybe I am crazy.

Between the banks of pain and pleasure the river of life flows. It is only when the mind refuses to flow with life, and gets stuck at the banks, that it becomes a problem. By flowing with life I mean acceptance -- letting come what comes and go what goes. Desire not, fear not, observe the actual, as and when it happens, for you are not what happens, you are to whom it happens. Ultimately even the observer you are not. You are the ultimate potentiality of which the all-embracing consciousness is the manifestation and expression.

Be willing to pass through a short term pain so that you can come out with a long term gain. Don't fear the horrible waves of the waters; just dare to cross and you get there!

Beyond the limit of pain, it is longer painful.

Beyond the limit of suffering is strength.

Biblical lament is an honest, vulnerable expression of pain, a crying out to God in faith as we are suffering.

Birth is painful and delightful. Death is painful and delightful. Everything that ends is also the beginning of something else. Pain is not a punishment; pleasure is not a reward.

Bir kadın konuşarak, bize Acıdan Söz Et, dedi. O da dedi ki: Acınız idrakinizi saran kabuğun kırılmasıdır. Nasıl meyvenin çekirdeği kırılmak zorundaysa, canevinin güneşin altında durması için, siz de acıyı tanımak zorundasınız. Eğer yüreklerinizi yaşamlarınızın gündelik mucizeleri karşısında hayretle dolu tutabilseydiniz, acınız da en az sevinciniz kadar harikulade görünürdü. Yüreğinizin mevsimlerini kabullenirdiniz, tıpkı tarlalarınızdan geçen mevsimleri her zaman kabullendiğiniz gibi. Ve hüznünüzün kışlarını dinginlikle seyredersiniz. Acılarınızın çoğu kendi seçiminizdir. Acı, içinizdeki hekimin hasta nefsinizi sağaltmakta kullandığı acı iksirdir. Onun için hekime güvenin, ilacını sessizlik ve dinginlikle için; Çünkü eli ağır ve sert de olsa, Görünmeyen'in müşfik eliyle yönlendirilir. Uzattığı çanak dudaklarınızı yaksa da, Çömlekçi'nin Kendi kutsal gözyaşlarıyla ıslattığı kilden yapılmıştır.

Bitter truths have the need to expect backups if they are shared at all.

Bitter truths have the power to expect backups if they are shared at all.

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.

Blind minds are worst than blind eyes. That you have eyes does not mean that you have vision. Visionaries do not look they see whlie people look.

Blaming yourself is like a curse eating you from within, a rogue virus, cancerous and poisonous. It will drive you mad if you let it .

Blind barthimus used his mouth and his feet to affect what wasn't working in his life? What do you use to affect what's not working in your life? God is not interested in your perfection, He is interested in your participation. It is your participation that attracts the presence of God.

Blood shall drop out of wood, and the stone shall give his voice, and the people shall be troubled:

Love Sorrow Love sorrow. She is yours now, and you must take care of what has been given. Brush her hair, help her into her little coat, hold her hand, especially when crossing a street. For, think, what if you should lose her? Then you would be sorrow yourself; her drawn face, her sleeplessness would be yours. Take care, touch her forehead that she feel herself not so utterly alone. And smile, that she does not altogether forget the world before the lesson. Have patience in abundance. And do not ever lie or ever leave her even for a moment by herself, which is to say, possibly, again, abandoned. She is strange, mute, difficult, sometimes unmanageable but, remember, she is a child. And amazing things can happen. And you may see, as the two of you go walking together in the morning light, how little by little she relaxes; she looks about her; she begins to grow.

Pain Waves are the sea's white daughters, And raindrops the children of rain, But why for my shimmering body Have I a mother like Pain? Night is the mother of stars, And wind the mother of foam— The world is brimming with beauty, But I must stay at home.

Breaking up is like unsticking your fingers after you've Superglued them. Love's the glue and no matter how slow and carefully you separate, you're going to lose a little bit of yourself in the process. You're also going to retain a little DNA from the one you lost.

Bravery is the ability to endure, even unto death, all types of terrible, terrifying and painful situations and we live in a time when people do all that they can to avoid hardship and pain, never realizing that strength and courage is found in both.

Break up of some relations sometimes don't just break the connection between to bodies, for someone it can be a disconnect with his soul and disconnect with soul its called "Death

Bringing light of our personal and social consciousness to dark corridors of human pain that have long been neglected and suppress.

Brenna is not suffering. She has periods of hurt and of discomfort, and she has endured intense pain during hospitalizations and surgeries. But on a daily basis, she is not suffering; she is thriving and happy.

Break up of relation ,sometime don't just breaks connection between two bodies , for someone it can be disconnect with the soul And disconnect with soul, it's called "Death

To Hear the Falling World Only if I move my arm a certain way, it comes back. Or the way the light bends in the trees this time of year, so a scrap of sorrow, like a bird, lights on the heart. I carry this in my body, seed in an unswept corner, husk-encowled and seeming safe. But they guard me, these small pains, from growing sure of myself and perhaps forgetting.

Sonnet I am no stranger in the house of pain; I am familiar with its every part, From the low stile, then up the crooked lane To the dark doorway, intimate to my heart. Here did I sit with grief and eat his bread, Here was I welcomed as misfortune’s guest, And there’s no room but where I’ve laid my head On misery’s accomodating breast. So, sorrow, does my knocking rouse you up? Open the door, old mother; it is I. Bring grief’s good goblet out, the sad, sweet cup; Fill it with wine of silence, strong and dry. For I’ve a story to amuse your ears, Of youth and hope, of middle age and tears.

...burying themselves in his arm was more about feeling his love in the confusion, in the difficulty, than it was about having moved past it.

But at some point, you have to recognize that you have no control over anybody and you have to step back and be ready to catch them when they fall and that's all you can do. It feels like throwing yourself to sea. Or, maybe not that. Maybe it's more like throwing someone you love out to sea and then praying they float on their own, knowing they might well drown and you'll have to watch.

But anger is the world’s worst—and arguably most contagious—plague. It might look ugly on the outside, but it eats you from the inside out. If you catch it—and you will—you must accept it. It stems from the fear: understand that. You must fight it, you must heal, and you must let it go. Anger, when dealt with, is en ember that eventually dies out if you give it enough space and understanding.

But for pain words are lacking. There should be cries, cracks, fissures, whiteness passing over chintz covers, interference with the sense of time, of space; the sense also of extreme fixity in passing objects; and sounds very remote and then very close; flesh being gashed and blood spurting, a joint suddenly twisted - beneath all of which appears something very important, yet remote, to be just held in solitude.

But he’d also gotten a personal prickly chill all over from his own thinking. He could do the dextral pain the same way: Abiding. No one single instant of it was unendurable. Here was a second right here: he endured it. What was undealable-with was the thought of all the instants all lined up and stretching ahead, glittering. And the projected future fear of the A.D.A., whoever was out there in a hat eating Third World fast food; the fear of getting convicted of Nuckslaughter, of V.I.P.-suffocation; of a lifetime on the edge of his bunk in M.C.I. Walpole, remembering. It’s too much to think about. To Abide there. But none of it’s as of now real. What’s real is the tube and Noxzema and pain. And this could be done just like the Old Cold Bird. He could just hunker down in the space between each heartbeat and make each heartbeat a wall and live in there. Not let his head look over. What’s unendurable is what his own head could make of it all. What his head could report to him, looking over and ahead and reporting. But he could choose not to listen; he could treat his head like G. Day or R. Lenz: clueless noise. He hadn’t quite gotten this before now, how it wasn’t just the matter of riding out the cravings for a Substance: everything unendurable was in the head, was the head not Abiding in the Present but hopping the wall and doing a recon and then returning with unendurable news you then somehow believed.

... But hurting ourselves to inflict pain to others is just another cry to be loved.

But I had to think to myself that this was normal, because that was the attitude. I was 19 when I went to see my doctor and I was told it was all in the mind. [Author Hilary Mantel on being told her endometriosis was imagined pain, From Oct 2009 Daily Mail interview]

But in so many ways I'm still that kid, not sure exactly how to be emotionally intimate with a girl without feeling weak, not sure my work is good enough, not sure if the people who are clapping would really like me if they got to know me (page 2)

But it's still near, an enemy pacing impatiently outside the gates. And eventually, it bursts through, burning and reaving.

but laugh, laugh, laugh, because if you ever stop laughing, it might just tear you apart

But even them, my pains, I understand ill. That must come from my not being all pain and nothing else. There's the rub. Then they recede, or I, till they fill me with amaze and wonder, seen from a better planet. Not often, but I ask no more. Catch-cony life! To be nothing but pain, how that would simplify matters! Omnidolent! Impious dream.

But hey this was the FAYZ, where all you could really hope was to delay the pain.