Stinging Back Pain Quotes

Only part of us is sane: only part of us loves pleasure and the longer day of happiness, wants to live to our nineties and die in peace, in a house that we built, that shall shelter those who come after us. The other half of us is nearly mad. It prefers the disagreeable to the agreeable, loves pain and its darker night despair, and wants to die in a catastrophe that will set back life to its beginnings and leave nothing of our house save its blackened foundations. ~ Rebecca West

A few silent moments later, Peter tells me it's time to go. He barely looks at me, scowls at the back wall instead. I suppose it would have been too much to ask, to see a friendly face this morning. I stand, and together we walk down the hallway.
My toes are cold. My feet stick to the tiles. We turn a corner, and I hear muffled shouts. At first I can't tell what the voice is saying, but as we draw closer, it takes shape.
"I want to…her!" Tobias. "I…see her!"
I glance at Peter. "I can't speak to him one last time, can I?"
Peter shakes his head. "There's a window, though. Maybe if he sees you he'll finally shut up."
He takes me down a dead-end corridor that's only six feet long. At the end is a door, and Peter is right, there's a small window near the top, about a foot above my head.
"Tris!" Tobias's voice is even clearer here. "I want to see her!"
I reach up and press my palm to the glass. The shouts stop, and his face appears behind the glass. His eyes are red; his face, blotchy. Handsome. He stares down at me for a few seconds and then presses his hand to the glass so it lines up with mine. I pretend I can feel the warmth of it through the window.
He leans his forehead against the door and squeezes his eyes shut.
I take my hand down and turn away before he can open his eyes. I feel pain in my chest, worse than when I got shot in the shoulder. I clutch the front of my shirt, blink away tears, and rejoin Peter in the main hallway. < ~ Veronica Roth

I have lost years that I will never get back. Only now am I just beginning to live, on the verge of old age. It is painful and unfair. But today I have a different attitude to life: it can't be constructed from superficial things, no matter how attractive they may appear. Neither wealth not appearances have any importance now.
Pain gave me new life. It took a long time for me to die as Malika, General Oufkir's eldest daughter, the child of a powerful figure, of a past. I've gained an identity. My own identity. And that is priceless.
If there had not been all that waste, all that horror ... I'd almost venture to say that my suffering made me grow. In any case, it changed me. for the better. It's as well to make the best of things. ~ Malika Oufkir

Underneath my imagination there didn't seem to be anything solid except for the space where I shoved my pain and sadness. Besides that, there were only twisted steel threads of axiety, woven through my body and brain, wired into me like a constant warning. Watch out, stay still, move away, stay silent, fight back, run and hide. Even when I was dreaming, but more so when I was awake, there was the constant fear of being caught off-guard, or by the wrong person at the wrong time. ~ Jane Devin

What drew him back was something altogether more personal, to a history where, in the pain and longing of adolescence, he was still standing on the corner of Queen and Albert Streets waiting for someone that he knew would never appear. He had long understood that one of his selves, the earliest and most vulnerable, had never left this place, and this original and clearest view of things could be recovered only through what had first come to him in the glow of its ordinary light and weather ... it was the light they appeared in that was the point, and that at least had not changed. ~ David Malouf

When I look back on my marriages, or the breakups, sure I know the pain I went through, but that's part of life and it has its own value. ~ Rita Hayworth

He panted over me, winded by his own absurd lecture. The stench of his alcoholic breath stung my nose. Again I didn't answer. I hoped he'd tire out and end his speech and hobble back to the living room without touching me. Such hopes were unlikely, as was the case this time.
"Answer me, you good-for-nuthin' wench!"
The pain bit instantly as his hand connected with my cheek. I shook my head in answer to his crazy questions, feeling a rise of warm tears. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

God, Abby, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, he said as he stared out the bay window onto the lake. The serene morning calm of the water was laughing at his riptide of emotions. In all his life, he'd never been as tortured as he was now. Rip his limbs apart, whip his back raw, waterboard him, anything but this. Because this ... this was far worse. It was her pain. Her torture that was destroying his sanity. He had no control over it. He couldn't stop it.
He hated that he wasn't strong enough to withstand this. Most of all, he hated that he cared so much about her.
Cause he knew.
He knew one certainty in all this.
She had managed to touch a piece of his ice-cold heart. And it wasn't letting him go. ~ Cindy Paterson

I'M SORRY

I am developing a new board game. It's called "I'm Sorry." It's also a form of "Self-Help Psychological Therapy!"

You take turns moving around the board like Monopoly. But if you land on a Yellow or Green "I'm Sorry Space"… you have to make a Phone call. Both green and yellow cards are labeled- the same with things like: Your Ex, Parental figure, friend, co-worker, boss, children, etc. You get the point…

If you land on the yellow space, the game stops, everyone gets quiet and you have to call that person up – on speakerphone. You apologize for something you've done in your past. Come on you know you are not perfect and you probably screwed up, hurt or disappointed everyone in your past at one time or another. So you call and you apologize. You explain what you did to them wrong if they forgive you, you move forward 10 places and everyone cheers! No forgiveness back- you move back to the beginning.

If you land on the green space- it's similar. But you call the person up and you try to explain to them how, in someway, they hurt you in the past. If they apologize… cheers and you move forward 10 spaces. No apology… move backward ten spaces. They curse at you- game over.

In the original packaging of the yellow and green cards, are mixed in a set of "I'm Sorry Cards." If you are lucky enough to get to pick up an "I'm Sorry Card," it's like a Get Out of Jail Free Card, and you don't have to make the call.

Th ~ Jose N Harris

My girl got sick. She was constantly nervous because of problems at work, personal life, her failures and children. She lost 30 pounds and weighted about 90 pounds. She got very skinny and was constantly crying. She was not a happy woman. She had suffered from continuing headaches, heart pain and jammed nerves in her back and ribs. She did not sleep well, falling asleep only in the mornings and got tired very quickly during the day. Our relationship was on the verge of a break up. Her beauty was leaving her somewhere, she had bags under her eyes, she was poking her head, and stopped taking care of herself. She refused to shoot the films and rejected any role. I lost hope and thought that we'll get separated soon… But then I decided to act. After all I've got the MOST Beautiful Woman on earth. She is the idol of more than half of men and women on earth, and I was the one allowed to fall asleep next to her and to hug her. I began to shower her with flowers, kisses and compliments. I surprised and pleased her every minute. I gave her a lot of gifts and lived just for her. I spoke in public only about her. I incorporated all themes in her direction. I praised her in front of her own and our mutual friends. You won't believe it, but she blossomed. She became better. She gained weight, was no longer nervous and loved me even more than ever. I had no clue that she CAN love that much.

And then I realized one thing: the woman is the reflection of her man.

If you ~ Brad Pitt

When you said hold the ice ... "
"I thought you were near death over there," I answer, breathless. "That doesn't feel fatal."
"I was, but you are one hot chick when you pound on the right bag." He jerks me back against him hard and I yelp. Not in pain. No, definitely not pain. ~ K.A. Tucker

Sometimes it takes a knock in life to make us sit up and grab life. And I had just undergone the mother of all knocks.
But out of that despair, fear, and struggle came a silver lining--and I didn't even know it yet.
What I did know was that I needed something to give me back my hope. My sparkle. My life. I found that something in my Christian faith, in my family, and also in my dreams of adventure.
My Christian faith says that I have nothing ever to fear or worry about. All is well.
At that time, in and out of hospital, it reminded me that, despite the pain and despair, I was held and loved and blessed--my life was secure through Jesus Christ.
That gift of grace has been so powerful to me ever since.
My family said something very similar: "Bear, you are an idiot, but we love you anyway, forever and always."
That meant the world to me and gave me back some of the confidence that I was struggling to find again.
Finally, I had my not insubstantial dreams of adventure. And those dreams were beginning to burn bright once more.
You see, I figure that life is a gift. I was learning that more than anyone.
My mum always taught me to be grateful for gifts. And as I slowly began to recover my strength and confidence, I realized that what mattered was doing something bold with that present.
A gift buried under a tree is wasted.
Alone one night in bed, I made a verbal, out-loud, conscious decision, that if I recovered well enough ~ Bear Grylls

Looking back, it is also the smallest moments that seem to radiate the most pain. The moments when you realize you loved these people, helplessly, that you were given no choice in this matter of loving them, and that they will always be part of you no matter how you try to carve them out of your flesh. That you are tied to them with bonds you could never sever, that they will live on inside you no matter how many effigies of them you hang and burn, no matter how often their reflections appear in the eyes of other men and women, men and women who then unwittingly play the roles of father and mother, with whom you act out the drama again and again. ~ Evelyn Lau

She sucked in a shuddering breath, and he pulled back far enough for them to share breath. Her fingers shook as she brushed them against his mouth, and his control nearly shredded apart right there.
'What are you waiting for?' he said, the words near guttural.
'Bastard,' she murmured, and kissed him.
Her mouth was soft and warm, and he bit back a groan. His body went still - his entire world went still - at that whisper of a kiss, the answer to a question he'd asked for centuries. He realized he was staring only when she withdrew slightly. His fingers tightened at her waist.
'Again,' he breathed.
She slid out of his grip. 'If we live through tomorrow, you'll get the rest.'
He didn't know whether to laugh or roar. 'Are you trying to bribe me into surviving?'
She smiled at last. And damn if it didn't kill him, the quiet joy in her face.
They had walked out of darkness and pain and despair together. They were still walking out of it. So that smile … It struck him stupid every time he saw it and realized it was for him. ~ Sarah J. Maas

The exhaustion apparent in his slumped shoulders made her heart twist. He looked so tired she wanted to rub his back and stroke his hair, as a mother would for a child. This was natural compassion, she decided, and walked toward him to give him what comfort she could.
He finally heard her and lifted his head from his arms. Locks of sandy hair fell over his forehead and he looked up at her with deep indigo eyes. Even in the dim light, she could see pain etched across his features. What horrors stalked his dreams? What could she do to help him sleep peacefully?
For a long moment they gazed at one another and then Huiann rested her hand on his shoulder. At the same time, Alan leaned into her body. They came together like two halves of an eggshell carefully broken. He slid a hand around her waist and pulled her closer. His face pressed against her breast. His arms wrapped around her.
She held him, cradling his head, rubbing his back. His body was so warm in her embrace. Her heart beat steadily and her stomach flipped in slow, lazy somersaults. The moment she'd sensed coming for so long was here. What would happen next?
For a long time, they remained locked in perfect union, contented, safe, no longer alone. As she caressed his hair, soft as she'd imagined, he tilted his face to look up at her. His eyes glittered in the lamplight. He wanted more and Huiann realized she did too. ~ Bonnie Dee

dear samantha
i'm sorry
we have to get a divorce
i know that seems like an odd way to start a love letter but let me explain:
it's not you
it sure as hell isn't me
it's just human beings don't love as well as insects do
i love you.. far too much to let what we have be ruined by the failings of our species

i saw the way you looked at the waiter last night
i know you would never DO anything, you never do but..
i saw the way you looked at the waiter last night

did you know that when a female fly accepts the pheromones put off by a male fly, it re-writes her brain, destroys the receptors that receive pheromones, sensing the change, the male fly does the same. when two flies love each other they do it so hard, they will never love anything else ever again. if either one of them dies before procreation can happen both sets of genetic code are lost forever. now that… is dedication.

after Elizabeth and i broke up we spent three days dividing everything we had bought together
like if i knew what pots were mine like if i knew which drapes were mine somehow the pain would go away

this is not true

after two praying mantises mate, the nervous system of the male begins to shut down
while he still has control over his motor functions
he flops onto his back, exposing his soft underbelly up to his lover like a gift
she then proceeds to lovingly dice him into tin ~ Jared Singer

Slumped to the floor. The pit of blackness welcomed her to let go and fall into the murky depths where conscience and pain ceased to exist.
Hands to her head, face to the stone, screaming without sound, she pushed back hard.
For nine months she'd tasted happiness, a chance at the closest thing she'd known to peace and a real life. For nine months the rage and violence that had defined so many of her years had finally ebbed, and now those who had no right had come with impunity to rip her out of this newfound calm, throwing her into an impossible situation where no matter what she did or what she chose, the end result would be a return to madness. ~ Taylor Stevens

Sometimes the one who is running from the Life/Death/Life nature insists on thinking of love as a boon only. Yet love in its fullest form is a series of deaths and rebirths. We let go of one phase, one aspect of love, and enter another. Passion dies and is brought back. Pain is chased away and surfaces another time. To love means to embrace and at the same time to withstand many endings, and many many beginnings- all in the same relationship. ~ Clarissa Pinkola Estes

Could we live it over again, Were it worth the pain, Could the passionate past that is fled Call back its dead! ~ Oscar Wilde

He let out a hiss of pain,then smiled that crooked, sheepish smile he always fell back on when he was caught doing something bad. Sorry. I-I didn't mean to. I just- I've been lying here for hours, thinking about blood. ~ Holly Black

Itches and Burs

There once was a mother-and-daughterly pair
Who both had an itch just beneath their long hair.
Each had a bur with the prickles attached
Under a belt at the mid of her back.

"Oh, daughter, please scratch at my itch, will you not?
And pluck out the bur - I would thank you a lot!"
"I can't," said the daughter, "My own bur does sting.
And try as I may I can't reach the darn thing!"

"Oh pain!" groaned the daughter. The mom cried, "Oh drat!"
As each strained to reach her own bur at her back.
"It prickles like needles! It tickles like feathers!"
But easing the scratch was a fruitless endeavor.

The daughter about gave a sigh of despair
When all of a sudden her prick was not there.
The itch too was gone with some scritches and scrapes
Applied by old fingers in arthritic shape.

The daughter, so grateful to feel such relief,
Turned 'round to her mother and plucked out her grief.
She scratched her mom's itch just as she had done hers.
Now neither has itches and neither has burs. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

We are inside this plasma,
and plasma is inside everything. It is incandescent
in the sun, and I am curious to know if you
are able to stop orbiting yourself around it even for a second.
No, you are not able to do this, but you are able
to stop the truths from being spoken.
All the absurd things are cool. Their spirits lose
their oxygen ions to generate
that matter in no pain. The spiritual things
are in pulsing metamorphosis to break into pieces, or
to turn back after
a hard but reversing process
before becoming anachronistic. ~ Marieta Maglas- Eschatological Regression

I cannot tell you how often I have counseled a grieving woman about a miscarriage or an abortion from years before. There were so many reasons why it was not practical or reasonable to have a child, so on a rational level there was often an understanding and acceptance. However, this did not relieve the pain and guilt of losing a child. In trance states we would often go looking for that soul. What a surprise for many when they discovered that this soul came back as a niece, nephew or even a younger child of their own. ~ Stephen Poplin

Oh, I hate him,' she said, and I noticed a flush of colour come into her cheeks and the manner in which the fingers of her left hand dug into her palm, as if she wanted something to take away the pain. 'I absolutely detest him. Afterwards, I didn't feel very much at all for a week or two. I suppose I was in shock. But then the fury rose and it hasn't subsided since. Sometimes I find it difficult to control. I think it was around the time that everyone stopped asking me whether I was all right, when lives went back to how they had been before. Had he been in Dublin I might well have gone over there, broken down his door and stabbed him as he slept. Fortunately for him, he was in Madagascar with his lepers.' (p. 268) ~ John Boyne

She slapped him so fast and so hard,his head actually kicked back on his spine.His first instinct was to bare his fangs and bite her,to punish her,to tantalize himself-because there was no better spice to pleasure than a little pain.Or a lot of it.He righted his head and lowered his lids.That felt good.Do you want to do it again? ~ J.R. Ward

When I was younger, my feet would hurt a lot, but you build up calluses and strength, and you don't feel as much pain there. But then again, it's a give and take. The older you get, you may feel pain in your back or your hips. ~ Misty Copeland

In seven years, thought Laurie, every cell in one's body has been replaced, even our memories live in a new brain. That is not the face I saw, and these are not the eyes I saw with. Even our selves are not the same, but only a consequence of the selves we had then. Yet I was there and I am here; and this man, who is sometimes what I remember and sometimes a stranger I met at a party the other day, is also to himself the I who was there: his mind in its different skull has travelled back to a place his living feet never visited; and the pain he felt then he can feel again. ~ Mary Renault

I feel like I'm waiting here. Waiting for something that hasn't happened yet. Something that isn't yet. But that's all I feel and nothing else. I don't know if I even exist. And then someone flips a switch and the light is gone, the room is gone, the weightlessness is gone. I want to ask to wait, because I wasn't finished yet, but I don't have a chance. There is no gentle pulling. No coaxing. No choice. I'm wrenched out. Yanked, as if my head is being snapped back. I'm in the dark and everything is pain. There are too many sensations at once. Every nerve ending is on fire. Like the shock of being born. And then, there are flashes of everything. Color, voices, machines, harsh words. The pain doesn't flash. The pain is constant, steady, never-ending. It's the only thing I know. I don't want to be awake anymore. ~ Katja Millay

And she looked upon the mirror that was given as a gift. She hated everything about it, from the circular size of it, to the color, and the wooden frame that held it in place. But mostly, she hated looking at herself. Especially into this one that had a scratch on its glass surface, which would reflect back to her face. And as she looked, it would cut her as the words her father would often say, in telling her she was ugly. ~ Anthony Liccione

When Kestrel opened her eyes, she was lying in her bed. Someone had built a fire, which sent ripples of orange light over the ceiling. An oil lamp burned on the night table, casting her father's face into extremes of shadow and bone. He had drawn a chair close and perhaps had been sleeping in it, but his eyes were alert.
"Your knee needs to be tapped," he said.
She looked at it. Someone--her father?--had cut away the right legging at her thigh, and below the sheared black cloth her knee was swollen to twice its normal size. It felt tight and hot.
"I don't know what that means," Kestrel said, "but it doesn't sound very nice."
"Irex dislocated your kneecap. It slipped back into place, but the blow must have torn your muscle. Your knee's filling with blood. That's what's causing you so much pain: the swelling." He hesitated. "I have some experience with this kind of wound, on the battlefield. I can drain it. You'll feel better. But I would have to use a knife."
Kestrel remembered him cutting her mother's arm, blood weaving through his fingers as he tried to close the wound. He looked at her now, and she thought that he was seeing the same thing, or seeing Kestrel remember it, and that they were mirroring each other's nightmare.
His gaze fell to his scarred hands. "I've sent for a doctor. You can wait until she comes, if you prefer." His voice was flat, yet there was a small, sad note that probably only she would have heard. "I wouldn't suggest this ~ Marie Rutkoski

Why is she kissing me back like she's trying to crawn inside of me?
I hate that her taste quenches something hidden deep in the dark shadows of my soulless being that's been starving for so long. I hate that her warm touch feels like a jagged knife stabbing the pain I've tucked away for the day when I can avenge it.
If we don't stop, she could awaken something that cannot be brought to life. Not ever. ~ Jewel E. Ann

I have attempted to tear asunder the veil you have hung to conceal from us the pain of life, and I have been wounded by the mystery ... Oedipus, half way to finding the word of the enigma, young Faust, regretting already the simple life, the life of the heart, I come back to you repentant, reconciled, O gentle deceiver! ~ Joseph Conrad

Forgiveness isn't telling someone
it was okay to hurt you.
It's telling yourself
it's okay to stop hurting.
It doesn't mean you have
to trust them again.
It means you can learn
to trust yourself again.
It doesn't mean you have to give
them a free pass back into your life.
It means you are free to
take your life back again.
Forgiveness is simply
emptying your past of its power
to empty your present of its peace. ~ L.R. Knost