#pain

If London is a watercolor, New York is an oil painting. ↗

— Peter Shaffer

#new #new york #oil #painting #watercolor

I want to take all the pain of humanity, ball it up into a compressed, black 16-pound sphere, add three holes in a triangular formation to it, and use it to bowl a strike. ↗

— Jarod Kintz

#funny #humanity #pain #funny

Each memory rips through me, and although I stow myself against the emotions, I can’t prevent the pain that accompanies each image. Pain for a love never acknowledged, pain for a friendship now gone. Pain for a loss I can’t possibly endure. ↗

— Christine Fonseca

#loss #pain #sacrifice #zane #friendship

But I hang on to books. I love them. I even think they're very nice decor in a room - far better than paintings... That's not quite true! ↗

— Norman MacCaig

#books #even #far #hang #i

Silent is the ruined land. Man is brutal and the rain does not wash away the pain or rid the distant memory. It makes it glisten. ↗

— Cecil Castellucci

#life #pain #world #life

I have never sought to displease; I merely seek pleasure and avoid the pain it causes those who work to produce it. That is what it means to live by the leisure principle. ↗

— Bauvard

#humor #leisure #pain #pleasure #funny

The pain and shame felt are unknown to those with planned vacations. They know not of the tsunami that rescinded the homes, goals, and hopes of its victims—swallowed by the sea of greed. ↗

— John-Talmage Mathis

#greed #pain #shame #home

But it turns out Joy is a house built from the same bricks as Sorrow. Pleasure is a poem, and it uses the same words as Pain. ↗

— Julio-Alexi Genao

#grief #joy #loss #pain #pleasure

For really it was the refinement of civilized cruelty, this spick, span, and ingenious affair of shining leather and gleaming steel, which hoisted you and tilted you and fitted reassuringly into the small of your back and cupped your head tenderly between padded cushions. It ensured for you a more complete muscular relaxation than any armchair that you could buy for your own home: but it left your tormented nerves without even the solace of a counter-irritant. In the old days the victim's attention had at least been distracted by an ache in the back, a crick in the neck, pins and needles in the legs, and the uneasy tickling of plush under the palm. But now, too efficiently suspended between heaven and earth, you were at liberty to concentrate on hell. ↗

— Jan Struther

#pain #teeth #home

Aryami Bose's home had been closed up for years, inhabited only by books and paintings, but the spectre of thousands of memories imprisoned between its walls still permeated the house. ↗

— Carlos Ruiz Zafón

#home #house #imprisoned #memories #paintings