She hoped that Tin Win would learn what she had learned over the years: that there are wounds time does not heal, though it can reduce them to a manageable size.

Needless to say that living this way is pure agony, I wouldn't go as far as to say its hell but it is hellish (hell adjacent). A little vacation with Hitler.

It is painful for the plant which is myself to live in the atmosphere and light of this world. Somewhere an element is lacking which would permit me to continue.

Does not people's preoccupation these days with drugs, alcohol, medication and self deception prove that the truth not only hurts, but it is torture to bear?

Unhappy people do the oddest, most terrible things, just trying to keep despair at bay. All you have to do is accept them...go around them...take evasive action.

It is not the pain that is pleasing to God, child. It is the soul's endurance in faith and hope and love in spite of bodily afflictions that pleases Heaven.

Your heart literally hurts when it's breaking. You can feel it, every beat another ache, and nothing you can do will stop it, either from beating or breaking.

There is a wide world out there, full of pain, but filled with joy as well. The former keeps you on the path of growth and the latter makes the journey tolerable.

...and then I remembered this basic religious principle that God isn't there to take away our suffering or our pain but to fill it with his or her presence...

IT'S NO FUN WATCHING PEOPLE WOUNDTHEMSELVES SO THAT THEY CAN HOLE UP,NURSE THEMSELVES BACK TO HEALTH,AND REPEAT THE CYCLE.THEY DON'T KNOW WHAT ELSE TO DO.

And of course she understood now why her body wanted to run whenever he appeared. It was a correct instinct, for there was nothing to be got from this but sadness.

We are as small as our joy (the sum of all ) and as big as our pain (the sum of all ) Somos tan pequeños como nuestra dicha y tan grandes como nuestro dolo

Suffering is only suffering if it's done in silence, in solitude. Pain experienced in public, in view of loving millions, was no longer pain. It was communion.

La parfum de mille roses ne plaît qu'un instant ; mais la douleur que cause une seule de leurs épines dure longtemps après sa piqûre.

The pains in my heart don't go away these days. The heartaches are chronic; they layer on top of each other from one day to the next, thickening like a callus.