Paulo Coelho Quotes

Grief is the agony of an instant; the indulgence of grief the blunder of a life.

Waiting is painful. Forgetting is painful. But not knowing which to do is the worse kind of suffering.

There is an aching that is worse than any pain.

Pain is the question mark turned like a fishhook in the human heart.

I feel hurt and pain times a million, all the time.

When I'm in pain and grief and despair, my throat is clenched and my heart hurts.

It’s hurting my soul

I have suffered the atrocity of sunsets.

Even as the words came out of my mouth, my heart was dying a million deaths.

Each day brought just another minute of the things they could not leave behind. Jane Barrington sitting on the train coming back to Leningrad from Moscow, holding on to her son, knowing she had failed him, crying for Alexander, wanting another drink, and Harold, in his prison cell, crying for Alexander, and Yuri Stepanov on his stomach in the mud in Finland, crying for Alexander, and Dasha in the truck, on the Ladoga ice, crying for Alexander, and Tatiana on her knees in the Finland marsh, screaming for Alexander, and Anthony, alone with his nightmares, crying for his father.

Discomfort guides my tongue And bids me speak of nothing but despair.

I wish I were dead, or that it were tomorrow night,' groaned Phil.

He wanted this someone to see how much he hurt.

The pain of not knowing what to do was exceeded only by that of knowing what I had done.

When we focus on our pain, our ache deepens.

Physical pain however great ends in itself and falls away like dry husks from the mind, whilst moral discords and nervous horrors sear the soul.

The human heart dares not stay away too long from that which hurt it most. There is a return journey to anguish that few of us are released from making.

My bones are tired from all the tragedy in me.

I have seen things in my life that have broken me in spirit.

Nobody knows the pain I've been through.

I understand the power of sorrow, and I understand how far it can take us from ourselves if we let it.

1967 was the bleakest, darkest, most emotional period of my life.

Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.

Whether goest, griefe? where I am wont.