I find I have to be the sad clown: laughing on the outside, crying on the inside.
I hurt easy, I just don't show it. You can hurt someone and not even know it.
There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.
Nobody knows the pain I've been through.
Let me not be weak and tell others how bleeding I am internally; how day by day it drips, and gathers, and congeals.
There is much pain that is quite noiseless; and vibrations that make human agonies are often a mere whisper in the roar of hurrying existence.
There is much pain that is quite noiseless; and vibrations that make human agonies are often a mere whisper in the roar of hurrying existence. There are glances of hatred that stab and raise no cry of murder; robberies that leave man or woman for ever beggared of peace and joy, yet kept secret by the sufferer --committed to no sound except that of low moans in the night, seen in no writing except that made on the face by the slow months of suppressed anguish and early morning tears. Many an inherited sorrow that has marred a life has been breathed into no human ear.
He was outwardly calm but inwardly bleeding to death.
No matter how much I feel, I’m not going to let it out. If I have to cry, I’m gonna cry on the inside. If I have to bleed, I’ll bruise. If my heart starts going crazy, I’m not gonna tell everyone in the world about it. It doesn’t help anything. It just makes everyone’s life worse.
My mother says that pain is hidden in everyone you see. She says try to imagine it like big bunches of flowers that everyone is carrying around with them. Think of your pain like a big bunch of red roses, a beautiful thorn necklace. Everyone has one.
Wealth makes an ugly person beautiful to look on and an incoherent speech eloquent; and wealth alone can enjoy pleasure even in sickness and can conceal its miseries.
Those comfortably padded lunatic asylums which are known, euphemistically, as the stately homes of England.
Beauty cannot disguise nor music melt A pain undiagnosable but felt.
All my life I've tried to make everybody happy while I just hurt and hide, waiting for someone to tell me it's my turn to decide.
You lost your wife, Douglas. My heartbreaks for you, it really does. But I lose my husband every day, all over again. And I don’t even get to mourn.
She nourishes the poison in her veins and is consumed by a secret fire.
Well it's the hurt I hide that fuels the fires inside me
To the casual observer it looks like I have moved on since I go around wearing my little happy mask all day. I smile and laugh and carry on like my heart's still in one piece, but beneath it all, I am dying.
Keeping a smile on your lips even when you're on the verge of tears. Feeling sorry for those who show their feelings.
Beauty has no other origin than the singular wound, different in every case, hidden or visible, which each man bears within himself, which he preserves, and into which he withdraws when he would quit the world for a temporary but authentic solitude
I was in danger of having my children taken away from me when I needed five weeks in psychiatric care ... There is the smiling depressive which is the biggest time bomb and when they go they usually go with a bang, which was me.
Dying on the inside, but outside you're looking fearless
Girls like you can't understand," Julia said, and it was true. Ellie had been popular. She didn't know that some hurts were like a once-broken bone. In the right weather, they could ache for a lifetime.
You aren't allowed to feel special, but no one knows the specific ways you are in pain.
When we speak, we want to say something sweet, but we don't say something sweet because something is ordering us from deep down to say something unkind. We want to open our hearts to people, but we can't do it, because we are being ordered around by the sufferings we have concealed deep in our consciousness.
