If Only Hurts When I M Breathing Quotes

And it only hurts when I'm breathing
My heart only breaks when it's beating
My dreams only die when I'm dreaming
So, I hold my breath
to forget ~ Shania Twain

Breaking the circle"

My eyes darken when I see my new lover. Fresh prey.
My body doesn't really react in a sexual way.
It's the devil inside me that celebrates next conquest.
We exchange meaningless sweet words.
His hungry gaze penetrates my breasts and ass.
Another drink and laughter.
And then another one.
Sometimes I get very drunk or high.
And then I don't feel him between my legs.
I don't see his sweating face.
I don't hear his moans and questions if I came.
I can't stay sober when I cheat on you.
I'm such a coward that I can't even face this inner monster.
It consumes me, it takes away my dignity.
It makes me do horrible things.
It hurts you, the only one who ever loved me.
Who knows what I really am.
No. It's not the monster. It's me. I am the whore.
I dig my nails into your soft flesh until it bleeds.
I am the one pushing you away, feasting on your kindness.
I blame those hard punches of my past for my infidelity.
Those cruel hands. Those hateful words.
I try not to, I really do.
I try to be a better person.
But how can I if I am just nobody?
You know why I leave. Yet you stay. You're there when I'm back.
With your sorrow and cry and resentment and wrath.
Why?
If I'm broken because of my pain what's your excuse?
Why do you keep letting me treat you like a stray dog?
Don't you have any respect for yourself? ~ Asper Blurry

A slow smile curved over my face, and I leaned down over him. "No," I said. "Wishes are lies. Tell me you're going to leave. Tell me you're not going to stay. Tell me that it's only for a while so I can enjoy today," I whispered in his ear, as if saying it louder would break me. "And when you go, don't think me cold when I don't cry. I can't cry anymore, Pierce. It hurts too much. ~ Kim Harrison

Charlie touched her face gently with long, tanned fingers. "Sometimes I don't know half of what you say, but I'm damn glad I get to hear it."
"I bet you say that to all the mortals," she joked, then winced as the pain shot through her again.
"You've been hurt," he said, as if noticing for the first time all the blood and gore and exposed body goo.
"Yeah, but it only hurts when I laugh."
"Then don't laugh," he murmured, finishing the old routine as if he'd been born into Vaudeville. His hands gently probed the edges of the gash. ~ Cheryl Sterling

I wonder if any of you have ever noticed that it is sometimes those who find most pleasure and amusement in their fellow man, and have most hope in his goodness, who get the reputation of being his most carping critics. Maybe it is that the satirist is so full of the possibilities of humankind in general, that he tends to draw a dark and garish picture when he tries to depict people as they are at any particular moment. The satirist is usually a pretty unpopular fellow. The only time he attains even fleeting popularity is when his works can be used by some political faction as a stick to beat out the brains of their opponents. Satirical writing is by definition unpopular writing. Its aim is to prod people into thinking. Thinking hurts.
(John Dos Passos, 1957, from the speech he delivered upon accepting the Gold Medal for Eminence in Fiction from the National Institute of Arts and Letters) ~ John Dos Passos

I was watching one of those animal shows on the Discovery Channel. There was a guy inventing a shark bite suit. And there's only one way to test it. All right Jimmy, you got that shark suit on, it looks good ... They want you to jump into this pool of sharks, and you tell us if it hurts when they bite you. Well, all right, but hold my sign. I don't wanna lose it. ~ Bill Engvall

Look ahead

It's tempting to go through life looking in the rearview mirror. When you are always looking back, you become focused on what didn't work out, on who hurt you, and on the mistakes you've made, such as:
"If only I would have finished college."
"If only I'd spent more time with my children."
"If only I'd been raised in a better environment."
As long as you're living in regret, focused on the negative things of the past, you won't move ahead to the bright future God has in store. You need to let go of what didn't work out. Let go of your hurts and pains. Let go of your mistakes and failures.
You can't do anything about the past, but you can do something about right now. Whether it happened twenty minutes ago or twenty years ago, let go of the hurts and failures and move forward. If you keep bringing the negative baggage from yesterday into today, your future will be poisoned.
You can't change what's happened to you. You may have had an unfair past, but you don't have to have an unfair future. You may have had a rough start, but it's not how you start, it's how you finish.
Don't let a hurtful relationship sour your life. Don't let a bad break, a betrayal, a divorce, or a bad childhood cause you to settle for less in life. Move forward and God will pay you back.
Move forward and God will vindicate you. Move forward and you'll come into a new beginning. Nothing that's happened to you is a surprise to God. The loss of a l ~ Joel Osteen

There are no single guys who don't have at least one major flaw, and a flaw, I might add, that would stop you from dating them – even if everything else was great. Why? Simple math. Women are interesting and honest and sensitive. Most men are not. There is only one normal, decent single guy for every five women in this city. This is what's known as the Great Male Statistic. Girls don't want to face the GMS. They want to believe there's someone for everyone. The truth hurts. You only start coming to terms with the GMS when you're twenty-six or twenty-seven. It actually killed Sylvia Plath. She finally found this guy in grad school who she thought was so great, and she married him, and he cheated on her. ~ Caren Lissner

Sometimes when I get up and emerge from the mists of slumber, my whole room hurts, my whole bedroom, the view from the window hurts, kids go to school, people go shopping, everybody knows where to go, only I don't know where I want to go, I get dressed, blearily, stumbling, hopping about to pull on my trousers, I go and shave with my electric razor - for years now, whenever I shave, I've avoided looking at myself in the mirror, I shave in the dark or round the corner, sitting on a chair in the passage, with the socket in the bathroom, I don't like looking at myself any more, I'm scared by my own face in the bathroom, I'm hurt even by my own appearance, I see yesterday's drunkenness in my eyes, I don't even have breakfast any more, or if I do, only coffee and a cigarette, I sit at the table, sometimes my hands give way under me and several times I repeat to myself, Hrabal, Hrabal, Bohumil Hrabal, you've victoried yourself away, you've reached the peak of emptiness, as my Lao Tzu taught me, I've reached the peak of emptiness and everything hurts, even the walk to the bus-stop hurts, and the whole bus hurts as well, I lower my guilty-looking eyes, I'm afraid of looking people in the eye, sometimes I cross my palms and extend my wrists, I hold out my hands so that people can arrest me and hand me over to the cops, because I feel guilty even about this once too loud a solitude which isn't loud any longer, because I'm hurt not only by the escalator which takes me down to the infern ~ Bohumil Hrabal

I don't know if you can empathize, but it hurts when someone you love dumps you."
"You're joking, right?" said Chuck. "How do you think I wound up in the pound? At least grid boy didn't try to have you gassed. I still don't know what I did to those people. Or why you like that grid asshole so much."
"He's not only an asshole," I said, sorry to have to defend him. "At first he was smart and sexy and fun."
"How was he fun?" said Chuck. "Did he play ball? No. Did he bring meaty snacks? No. And he made such a big fucking deal when I drooled on his pants. How much fun was that? ~ Merrill Markoe

Arin glanced up as she approached. One tree shadowed the knoll, a laran tree, leaves broad and glossy. Their shadows dappled Arin's face, made it a patchwork of sun and dark. It was hard to read his expression. She noticed for the first time the way he kept the scarred side of his face out of her line of sight. Or rather, what she noticed for the first time was how common this habit was for him in her presence--and what that meant.
She stepped deliberately around him and sat so that he had to face her fully or shift into an awkward, neck-craned position.
He faced her. His brow lifted, not so much in amusement as in his awareness of being studied and translated.
"Just a habit," he said, knowing what she'd seen.
"You have that habit only with me."
He didn't deny it.
"Your scar doesn't matter to me, Arin."
His expression turned sardonic and interior, as if he were listening to an unheard voice.
She groped for the right words, worried that she'd get this wrong. She remembered mocking him in the music room of the imperial palace (I wonder what you believe could compel me to go to such epic lengths for your sake. Is it your charm? Your breeding? Not your looks, surely.).
"It matters because it hurts you," she said. "It doesn't change how I see you. You're beautiful. You always have been to me." Even when she hadn't realized it, even in the market nearly a year ago. Then later, when she understood his beauty. Again, when she saw his face ~ Marie Rutkoski

Nothing has changed, Claire. You're still as beautiful as you were when we met first and I am still in love with everything about you. We may be worlds apart but this doesn't keep our hearts at distance. I feel your breath in every breath of mine and I hear your heartbeat in every beat of my heart. I traveled to far away lands, rivers, forests, mountains, glaciers, deserts and skyscrapers but wherever I go I find you there. My dreams aren't illusions but visions of a beautiful yesterday; I play with your hair-locks, I kiss your eyes, I embrace your hands and you giggle in my arms blossoming like a flower. My love, you're my only reality, my only fantasy, my only celebration and my only refuge. I have waited a thousands suns and I can wait a thousand more to witness the moment you call out to me. That day you'll find me and even if I don't live up to see that day I will be with you forever, just remember me. ~ Huseyn Raza

Only people who've been discriminated against can really know how much it hurts. Each person feels the pain in his own way, each has his own scars. So I think I'm as concerned about fairness and justice as anybody. But what disgusts me even more are people who have no imagination. The kind T. S. Eliot calls hollow men. People who fill up that lack of imagination with heartless bits of straw, not even aware of what they're doing. Callous people who throw a lot of empty words at you, trying to force you to do what you don't want to. Like that lovely pair we just met." He sighs and twirls the long slender pencil in his hand. "Gays, lesbians, straights, feminists, fascist pigs, communists, Hare Krishnas-- none of them bother me. I don't care what banner they raise. But what I can't stand are hollow people. When I'm with them I just can't bear it, and wind up saying things I shouldn't. With those women--I should've just let it slide, or else called Miss Saeki and let her handle it. She would have given them a smile and smoothed things over. But I just can't do "do that. I say things I shouldn't, do things I shouldn't do. I can't control myself. That's one of my weak points. Do you know why that's a weak point of mine?"
"'Cause if you take every single person who lacks much imagination seriously, there's no end to it," I say. ~ Haruki Murakami

Sammi," Alex said, still holding on to her arm, firmly, but not hurting her. "Don't do that."
"Do what?" Sam asked a bit peevishly.
"Don't lie and tell me what you think I want to hear rather than how you really feel." After a beat where Sam didn't say anything he continued. "If you want to tell me to piss off, tell me. If I do something that hurts your feelings, tell me." His voice suddenly lowered and he took her hands in his. Sam had to lean into him to hear him over the noise of the barn.
"For the love of God, you're the only real person here. If I can't rely on you to tell me like it is, who will?" He paused. "Now, please tell me what upset you."
"It's just that….." she paused, finally continuing when Alex squeezed her hand. "I don't fit in with the other women here, and I don't want you to see me as…less…then they are."
"I don't see you as less." Alex immediately said, not even pausing to think about what he wanted to say. "We don't really know each other, but when I'm lying in my cot at night I find myself thinking about you and what you are thinking about." He brushed his knuckle over her reddening cheek and continued, "I would never intentionally insult you like that. I just have to learn how I can tease you and not have you take offense. ~ Susan Stoker

When Heaven has an earthquake you fall to your knees and feel through the rubble to find the pieces of God. When my eternal, temple-blessed marriage shattered and everything that had been meaningful lay in jumbled shards around me, I had to slowly and carefully pick up every single piece and examine it, turning it over and over, to see if it was worthy to keep and to use in building a new house of meaning. As I gathered the broken pieces of God, I used only my own authority, only my own relationship with the divine, and the good, small voice that speaks inside me, to appraise them. I threw away many, and I kept many, assembling the bright pieces into One Great Thought. I asked only, "Do I see God's fingerprints on this? Does this little piece feel godly? Does it speak of love?" That made it easy. I was forever finished with the insane attempt to love a God who hurts me. When I picked up the little pieces of God-ordained polygamy, I smiled because there was no question. I thanked the God of Love, and threw that piece away. ~ Carol Lynn Pearson

You're beautiful but you don't know it. You're my sister and I love you but I sometimes think to myself that you don't love me, consider what is important to my soul to be significant to yours. You can't see me. I am invisible to you. We don't share anything anymore like we used to do in childhood. The only things we have in common are our parents, a brother. We're not children anymore. It hurts (the pain). It hurts (this long distance relationship but most of all the separation). For me it hurts. For you, it is only your life that matters. Well, for me, it is going to take a miracle for this to go away. The ingredient required for this miracle is only one thing and it's love. The compulsion of love. The idea of love. The journey towards love. I've realized this. If you live in poverty, that is, if your soul lives in poverty you're forever walking away from it with a hunger (in your soul) but when you have love there is no more Hiroshimas, Nagasakis, Sarajevos, and loneliness. There is only light and with light comes acceptance. There is only breath,. ~ Abigail George

Lost in the stormy kiss, Elizabeth felt her legs gliding down his as he gently lowered her against him until her feet touched the floor. But when his fingers pulled at the ribbon that held her gown in place at her shoulder, she jerked free of his kiss, automatically clamping her hand over his. "What are you doing?" she asked in a quaking whisper. His fingers stilled, and Ian lifted his heavy-lidded gaze to hers.
The question took him by surprise, but as he stared into her green eyes Ian saw her apprehension, and he had a good idea what was causing it. "What do you think I'm doing?" he countered cautiously.
She hesitated, as if unwilling even to accuse him of such an unspeakable act, and then she admitted in a small, reluctant voice, "Disrobing me."
"And that surprises you?"
"Surprises me? Of course it does. Why wouldn't it?" Elizabeth asked, more suspicious than ever of what Lucinda had told her.
Quietly he said, "What exactly do you know about what takes place between a husband and wife in bed?"
"You-you mean 'as it pertains to the creation of children'?" she said, quoting his words to her the day she agreed to become betrothed to him.
He smiled with tender amusement at her phrasing. "I suppose you can call it that-for now."
"Only what Lucinda told me." He waited to hear an explanation, and Elizabeth reluctantly added, "She said a husband kisses his wife in bed and that it hurts the first time, and that is how it is done."
Ian hes ~ Judith McNaught

For me, anything goes when I pick up a mike. I'm not trying to hurt people - I try not to get too personal but I look at myself as a reporter. If you can report on anything that has to do with pop culture, then why can't I make jokes about it? Yes, it hurts. But I figure that laughter sometimes starts from pain. You might wince, but then I know that I'm doing my job. The only thing I can do wrong is not be funny. ~ Chris Rock

I used to wonder if we were destined to fail from the start, two people who lived hard and loved fast. Afraid to slow down. But now I know that my fingers weren't long enough to reach your wounds, to caress the places that ached from the sharp words and careless actions of others. People had confused your gentleness for weakness. You carried everything heavy.

Had I known, I would have danced delicate language all around you. I would've told you that your internal brightness illuminated mine. And that I only saw the beauty in myself when I looked at my reflection in your eyes. If only I had known that behind that strong gaze was everything else. Everything you didn't want me to know. Your shine came from what you felt when you looked at me. And you feared that I would be yet another to use your light and leave you alone. In even more darkness.
But I wouldn't have.
I didn't know how to tell you, but I know that pain too. ~ Jacqueline Simon Gunn

You know it's true."
"Even if it is," I cried, "what does it matter? You could sleep with anybody, Wesley. So what if I walk away? So what if I have feelings for you? I was just a screw to you! You would never actually commit to me. You could never commit to anyone, but especially not to Duffy. You don't even find me attractive."
"Bullshit," he growled, his eyes on my face as he moved closer to me again.
He was so close. My back was pressed to the wall, and Wesley stood only inches away. It had only been a week, but it felt like ages since we'd been in this kind of proximity. A shiver ran up my spine as I remembered the way his hands felt on me. The way he'd always made me feel wanted, even if he had called me the Duff. Did he? Did he find me attractive despite the nickname? How? Why?
"Then why would you call me that?" I whispered. "Do you know how much it hurts? Every time you call me Duffy, do you know how shitty it makes me feel?"
Wesley looked surprised. "What?"
"Every time you call me that," I said, "you're telling me how little you think of me. How ugly I am. God, how can you possibly find me attractive when you put me down all the time." I hissed the last words through gritted teeth.
"I didn't-" His eyes fell, staring at his shoes for a moment. I could tell he felt guilty. "Bianca, I'm sorry." He looked into my eyes again. "I didn't mean-" His hand reached out to touch me.
"Don't," I snapped, shrugging away from him. I slid to th ~ Kody Keplinger

You would like to know how I behave when I am experiencing pain, not writing books about it. You need not guess, for I will tell you; I am a great coward... If I knew any way of escape I would crawl through sewers to find it. But what is the good of telling you about my feelings? You know them already; they are the same as yours. I am not arguing that pain is not painful. Pain hurts. That is what the word means. I am only trying to show that the old Christian doctrine of being made 'perfect through suffering' is not incredible. To prove it palatable is beyond my design. ~ C.S. Lewis

When she treads on my grave and feels as if she's trampling on that doting old man's bones, my spirit will still be alive, feeling the whole weight of her body, feeling pain, feeling the fine-grained velvety smoothness of the soles of her feet. Even after I'm dead I'll be aware of that. I can't believe I won't. In the same way, Satsuko will be aware of the presence of my spirit, joyfully enduring her weight. Perhaps she may even hear my charred bones rattling together, chuckling, moaning, creaking. And that would by no means occur only when she was actually stepping on my grave. At the very thought of those Buddha's Footprints modeled after her own feet she would hear my bones wailing under the stone. Between sobs I would scream: It hurts! It hurts! ... Even though it hurts, I'm happy - I've never been more happy, I'm much, much happier than when I was alive! ... Trample harder! Harder! ~ Junichiro Tanizaki

Healing takes time, and its duration cannot be controlled.
Some people are angry with us, or we are angry with them.
Some people leave us, or we leave them.
All this hurts, and takes time to heal.
We don't have power over the amount of time it takes to heal all these grievances.
Yet, no matter how powerless we are over the time it takes to heal, we do have all the power that truly matters.
And this is the power to say YES to Healing.
This is the greatest power possible,
for when we say YES to healing,
time disappears.
And then there is only the YES,
which is the power of choice to heal.
Time is always filled with grievances,
because through time people come and go from our life,
and we come and go from theirs.
When time ends,
Healing begins.
And time can end now,
if you say YES to Healing.
And if you say YES to Healing,
you are with everyone and everyone is with you,
unconditionally, right now, and forever.
Hence, I do say YES to Healing,
and, if you wish,
you can also join me,
for I love to Heal with you. ~ Franco Santoro

And then there are always clever people about to promise you that everything will be all right if only you put yourself out a bit... And you get carried away, you suffer so much from the things that exist that you ask for what can't ever exist. Now look at me, I was well away dreaming like a fool and seeing visions of a nice friendly life on good terms with everybody, and off I went, up into the clouds. And when you fall back into the mud it hurts a lot. No! None of it was true, none of those things we thought we could see existed at all. All that was really there was still more misery-- oh yes! as much of that as you like-- and bullets into the bargain! ~ Emile Zola

You're like some wild bird, aren't you? Batting its wings and flying against the cage door. Even if it hurts you. Even if it kills you. You won't stop. Even if on one is out to hurt you, you wont stop." He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, and I flinch at the brush of his fingers on my skin.
I shrug, slap at his hand "So what? You just described everyone in here. All of us."
"No, the rest of us will keep to this cage. It's protection from the dangers outside. In here, we have shelter. Freedom. Each other. We wait for the door to open, and when its safe, only then do we go out. You? You don't care as long as you're gone. Away from the rest of us. ~ Sophie Jordan

You were just trying to figure out if I'm one of you?"
Of course, stupid. When has anyone like Galen ever paid you any attention? When has there ever been anyone like Galen? Still, I'm surprised how much it hurts when he nods. I'm his little science project. All the time I thought he was flirting with me, he was really just trying to lure me out here to test his theory.
If stupid were a disease, I'd have died from it by now. But at least I know where he really stands-about his feelings for me anyway. But what his intentions for me in general are, I have no idea.
What happens if I can turn into a fish? Does he think I'll just kiss my mom good-bye, flush all my good grades-all those scholarships-down the toilet so I can go swim with the dolphins? he called himself a Royal. Of course, I don't know exactly what that means, but I can sure guess-that I'm another subject to him, someone to order around. He did say I had to obey him, after all. But if he's a Royal, why come out here himself? Why not send someone less important? I'm betting the U.S. President doesn't personally go to foreign countries looking for missing Americans who might not even be American.
But can I trust him enough to answer my questions? He already deceived me once, faking interest in me to get me out here. He lied to my face about having a mother. He even lied to my mom. What else would he lie about to get what he wants? No, I can't trust him.
Still, I want to know the truth, if only ~ Anna Banks

Don't make me out to be something worth saving. We both know I'm a waste." His voice was so quiet. "I wish I was better at telling you why you have to stay here. I wish I could put into words the part of my heart that has your name written on it. That part hurts right now. You have to be here. You love life too much. You're so important. I wish I could make you understand this." He tried to smile at her valiant efforts. "I would keep you if I could. You can sleep here, right on this couch. Beckett, I will let you hold this baby when it comes." She touched her stomach. "Does that tell you how much you mean to me? It's the only thing I can come up with." He shrugged. "Mouse would be disappointed. He'd feel like he didn't do his job if you died ... Eve loves you. Wherever she is - in this strip club - is that what you've been wishing for?" Beckett shook his head. "No, right? She loves you. You can't kill someone she loves. You just can't. ~ Debra Anastasia

He looked at me intently before speaking. "Why do you do that?"
I frowned at him. "Do what?"
"Push everyone away." Danny told me simply.
I was a little stunned and when I didn't say anything, Danny continued on.
"Darcie, what are you so afraid of? Why do you shut people out?" He looked at me searchingly.
"Because it's easier that way!" I yelled at him suddenly and he looked taken aback.
I took a deep breath to calm down and added, "And I don't like feeling vulnerable."
Danny stared at me. "Being vulnerable is nothing to be ashamed of Darcie …it's what makes us human."
I shook my head furiously. "No! Being vulnerable makes you weak – just like every other emotion … if you allow yourself to care, you only end up getting hurt."
Danny threw me a consoling look. "But there's nothing wrong with caring –"
"No!" I interrupted angrily. "I don't want to care! You only end up getting hurt … and it hurts so bad that you can't breathe. I don't want to feel like that. I don't want to feel at all! It's just easier to shut everyone out … if you don't care about them – you won't get hurt! ~ Joanne McClean

Lots of people do not feel and do not care, deeply. They're the sea creatures who were born to swim in the shallows. And I think that they look at those of us who come from the parts of the ocean that's pitch black and deeper than the core of the planet and they feel fascinated. They're fascinated in the way we are fascinated with eagles or with vampires. They think we're unabashedly deep and beautiful and they feel like they want to try being that way, too. It's like a fascination for a mystical creature. But I have watched these kinds of people burn out before they ever reach that depth (not even close). They burn out because they just get so exhausted! You only have the set of lungs designed for the depths of the ocean, if you are the type of creature who was born in those depths. It's not a regimen, it's not a list of rules, it's not a succession of steps to get there. It's about anatomy. There are creatures for the shallows and creatures for the deep. It is nature's designer plan. And when these people burn out, they will have these outbursts wherein they lash out at you, as if they are exasperated at why you're a mermaid in the black of the seas, and if they could, they'd drag you into a glass tank and chain you up because they don't want that kind of beauty around them, outshining them. Feeling and living in the depths of life (caring so much it hurts, feeling so much it becomes painful) is a mystical, beautiful thing but it cannot be copied and it shouldn't be copied. ~ C. JoyBell C.

Then the lion said – but I don't know if it spoke – You will have to let me undress you. I was afraid of his claws, I can tell you, but I was pretty nearly desperate now. So I just lay flat down on my back to let him do it.

"The very first tear he made was so deep and I thought it had gone right into my heart. And when he began pulling the skin off, it hurt worse than anything I've ever felt. The only thing that made me able to bear it was just the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off. You know – if you've ever picked the scab of a sore place. It hurts like billy-oh but it is such fun to see it coming away. ~ C.S. Lewis

A clear horizon - nothing to worry about on your plate, only things that are creative and not destructive ... I can't bear quarreling, I can't bear feelings between people - I think hatred is wasted energy, and it's all non-productive. I'm very sensitive - a sharp word, said by a person, say, who has a temper, if they're close to me, hurts me for days. I know we're only human, we do go in for these various emotions, call them negative emotions, but when all these are removed and you can look forward and the road is clear ahead, and now you're going to create something - I think that's as happy as I'll ever want to be. ~ Alfred Hitchcock

How can it be better to feel something when everything I feel hurts so much? I want to smack ever person who has told me, "The pain reminds you that you're alive."
Idiots.
The pain only reminds of me of everything I have lost. ~ Maggi Myers