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#pain

Read through the most famous quotes by topic #pain




Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil. ↗


— Aristotle


#arising #evil #fear #pain

There is a point when the anguished soul finally despairs.  A moment in life when the heart, the will, even the spirit crumbles.  Some say that after much grief and drowning in tears, it is possible to pick up the pieces and carefully repair what was shattered. I say nay.  For the chains of despair have no key, and the soul destroyed by that monster can never hope to be unaffected.  There are things done that cannot be undone. ↗


— Richelle E. Goodrich


#destruction #grief #hopelessness #pain #richelle

I promised I'd save him, take him home! I promised him!" . . . Thomas hugged Chuck to his chest, squeezed him as tightly as possible, as if that could somehow bring him back, or show thanks for saving his life, for being his friend when no one else would. Thomas cried, wept like he'd never wept before. His great, racking sobs echoed through the chamber like the sounds of tortured pain. (pg 358 hardback) ↗


— James Dashner


#pledge #sadness #spoiler #life

...the heart of a child can take forty-nine blows before it’s damaged for ever and what’s done can never be undone. ↗


— Paul Hoffman


#children #damage #damaged #done #ever

‎"If the person you were fighting had any kind of wound,worry it and keep at it And the pain would be much more intense.It was the psychological angle and all.Once a cut was there,it was human nature to try to protect it from more harm. ↗


— Martina Cole


#pain #life

Igen: élni, míg élünk, Igen: ez a szabály. De mit csináljunk az életünkkel, Ha fáj? Élni, míg élünk ↗


— Endre Ady


#pain #poetry-quotes #life

It's like he has emotional amnesia... I think you have to accept that the person you knew isn't there at the moment. I was witness to how much he loved you. I have the photos. This isn't the person we knew. I don't recognize this person. He's shed his skin." Her heart is broken too. She has to say the thing that will give me back my life. She draws on every reserve. I see how much it hurts her and it hurts me too. I came from her joy and her pain, I lived in it and I live in it now. ↗


— Emma Forrest


#love-loss #pain #life

Rigor Mortis.” I say, almost as an apology. But he won’t have any of it. He locks onto my gaze. He doesn’t lean forward, but he doesn’t need to, suddenly the room feels like it’s filled with him. His presence floats in the air like a noxious gas, and I’m breathing it in. “Ike, you don’t get it. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. Do you think I have the right to talk to anyone? Do you think its fun to have a ‘human’ brain in a pet’s body? Sure, I have Kamu. And that’s fugging great, but guess what? Kamu is queen to be, and emotionally unstable.” I've never heard Rig talk this powerfully before, but he doesn’t seem scary, just sad. “And then I get someone else I can actually talk to, Ike, I get you. And you don’t treat me like I’m a pet and you talk about Kamu like she needs to be protected and you are there. You are there, and you keep being there, and the only one who’s ever there is Kamu, but now there is Ike. And Ike is perfect, albeit a bit dense, but perfect.” “Rig, I’m really sorry bu-“ I start, I don’t know how much more of this I can take. With each sentence Rig loses some of his force, he sounds more pathetic and lost. “I’m not done.” He pronounces the words in such a voice that it makes me shut up more than the context of the sentence does. “And all I want is to be with this boy who is there, this boy who is my friend, this boy who isn’t always caught up in politics. All I want is to have my one good break.” He finishes. I keep holding his eye contact, and his eyes, they already reflect hurt and rejectment. I don’t know if from me…or from life. ↗


— Ginny Albinson


#life #love #pain #love

One day we took the children to see a goldsmith refine gold after the ancient manner of the East. He was sitting beside his little charcoal fire. ("He shall sit as a refiner"; the gold- or silversmith never leaves his crucible once it is on the fire.) In the red glow lay a common curved roof tile; another tile covered it like a lid. This was the crucible. In it was the medicine made of salt, tamarind fruit and burnt brick dust, and imbedded in it was the gold. The medicine does its appointed work on the gold, "then the fire eats it," and the goldsmith lifts the gold out with a pair of tongs, lets it cool, rubs it between his fingers, and if not satisfied puts it back again in fresh medicine. This time he blows the fire hotter than it was before, and each time he puts the gold into the crucible, the heat of the fire is increased; "it could not bear it so hot at first, but it can bear it now; what would have destroyed it then helps it now." "How do you know when the gold is purified?" we asked him, and he answered, "When I can see my face in it [the liquid gold in the crucible] then it is pure. ↗


— Amy Carmichael


#fire #gold #heat #pain #pure

I'm watching her talk. Watching her jaw move and collecting her words one by one as they spill from her lips. I don't deserve them. Her warm memories. I'd like to paint them over the bare plaster walls of my soul, but everything I paint seems to peel. ↗


— Isaac Marion


#painting






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