Emily Dickinson Quotes

I think that hurting gives us a way to measure being happy. How can you know one without knowing the other.

A minute to smile and an hour to weep in, A pint of joy to a peck of trouble, And never a laugh but the moans come double; And that is life!

Next to the highest peak of happiness, there’s the deepest gap of pain.

Without Pain, How Could We Know Joy?

Pain is short, and joy is eternal.

The latter end of joy is woe.

The word suffering is full and whole and perfect as a pierced heart, sweet, rushing and tender ... Suffering is the joy of someone about to be martyred, illumination of something given up as an offer.

Music takes me to places of illimitable sensual and insensate joy, accessing points of ecstasy that no angelic lover could ever locate, or plunging me into gibbering weeping hells of pain that no torturer could ever devise".

Without pain, how could we know joy?' This is an old argument in the field of thinking about suffering and its stupidity and lack of sophistication could be plumbed for centuries but suffice it to say that the existence of broccoli does not, in any way, affect the taste of chocolate.

You really think joy is easier to come by than pain? What have you had more of?

He who has felt the deepest grief is best able to experience supreme happiness.

The flip side of happiness is suffering.

There's a fine line between pleasure and pain. Love me like a ball and chain.

After all, you can't truly be happy if you've never known pain. You can't truly feel joy if you've never felt heartbreak. You can't know what it's like to be filled unless you've been empty.

The thorn is a bridge spanning the muddy depths of agony and sorrow so that one may on the other side dance to the drums of the rose of joy.

When you think of love do you think of pain?

Suffering itself is beloved: love and suffering are far closer to each other than love and pleasure.

Perhaps there could be no joy on this planet without an equal weight of pain to balance it out on some unknown scale.

The unendurable is the beginning of the curve of joy.

Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.

And now I know why they invented words for love, why they had to: It's the only thing that can come close to describing what I feel in that moment, the baffling mixture of pain and pleasure and fear and joy, all running sharply through me at once.

There is room in the halls of pleasure for a large and lordly train, but one by one we must all file on through the narrow aisles of pain.

Love is the root of all joy and sorrow.

in stillness, I watched myselfget eaten by mosquitoes... the itch was maddening at first but eventually it just melded into a general burning feeling and i rode that heat to a mld euphoria. I allowed the pain to lose its specific associations and become pure sensation... and that eventually lifted me out of myself and into meditation.