Thanks to this education, I have to experience a new sensation in order to appreciate new pain.
Anything dead coming back to life hurts.
All we can do is suffer the pain, and tell ourselves it was well worth it.
Our brains ache, in the merciless iced east winds that knive us.
His pain of mind was most pitiable to see. It was the mental torture of a conscientious man, oppressed beyond endurance by an unintelligible responsibility involving life.
After great pain, a formal feeling comes.
Surely there can be little in this world more awful than the spectacle of a strong man in the moment when he is utterly weak and broken.
We cannot protect the young from harm. Pain must and will come.
For the best is only bought at the cost of great pain.
The pain didn’t fade. It seemed to grow worse, and in a colder, uglier way.
The balsam was not more healing to the wound in my head, than her kindness was healing to the wounds in my spirit.
Her pain had the unreasoning desolation peculiar to children, magnified and mysterious, yet her very youth buried it beneath everyday events, and diminished its importance.
If you are distressed by anything external, the pain is not due to the thing itself, but to your estimate of it; and this you have the power to revoke at any moment.
Because we would have had to pay the world back what we owed it…the pain of growing up.
She jumps on me for sharing pain with the living, but she tries to share it with the dead.
The world is full of painful stories. Sometimes it seems as though there aren't any other kind and yet I found myself thinking how beautiful that glint of water was through the trees.
They could kill if they had to, and bear the pain of it or be destroyed by it. But if everyone could feel everyone else’s pain, who would torture? Who would cause anyone unnecessary pain?
Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not.
No one else can ever feel your pain.