After All The Hurt Quotes & Sayings

Because she is in God's hands.' But if so, she was in God's hands all the time, and I have seen what they did to her here. Do they suddenly become gentler to us the moment we are out of the body? And if so, why? If God's goodness is inconsistent with hurting us, then either God is not good or there is no God: for in the only life we know He hurts us beyond our worst fears and beyond all we can imagine. If it is consistent with hurting us, then He may hurt us after death as unendurably as before it. — C.S. Lewis

Every widow wakes one morning, perhaps after years of pure and unwavering grieving, to realize she slept a good night's sleep, and will be able to eat breakfast, and doesn't hear her husband's ghost all the time, but only some of the time. Her grief is replaced with a useful sadness. Every parent who loses a child finds a way to laugh again. The timbre begins to fade. The edge dulls. The hurt lessens. Every love is carved from loss. Mine was. Yours is. Your great-great-great-grandchildren's will be. But we learn to live in that love. — Jonathan Safran Foer

The whole world seemed full of hurt feelings and apologies, endless selfishness and explanations. Wasn't there anything that anyone could understand about each other? Weren't there some hurt feelings that mattered more? Or did it all matter just as much, interminably, wound after wound? — Aoibheann Sweeney

A hurt mammal never forgets. Epigenetic theory suggests an almost Lamarckian transfer down the generations; some genes are activated by experiences, others are not. Genes, language, history: what it all meant in actual practice was that fear passed down through the years, altering organisms for generation after generation, thus altering the species. Fear, an evolutionary force. — Kim Stanley Robinson

I couldn't look at her. I'd been jealous and hurt, and I had dragged Liv into the middle of my own broken mess of a life. All because I thought Lena didn't love me anymore. But I was stupid, and I was wrong. Lena loved me so much, she was willing to risk everything to save me.
I had given up on Lena, after she had refused to give up on me. I owed her my life. It was as simple as that. — Kami Garcia

After 9/11, we had to look at the world differently. After 9/11, we had to recognize that when we saw a threat, we must take it seriously before it comes to hurt us. In the old days we'd see a threat, and we could deal with it if we felt like it or not. But 9/11 changed it all. — George W. Bush

She was too proud to eat her share of what little food we had. She told me she had. She swore she did. But every time I complained about being so hungry it hurt, she always offered me a nut or a partially rotted turnip, claiming she had just found two and already ate hers."

Rose sniffled and wiped her eyes again.

"After she was gone, I left my pride in that little hut and begged my way to Medford. I'd do anything. Once you've spent an afternoon chasing a fly around your house for dinner, once you've eaten spiders whole and drooled over worms found while burying your mother with your bare hands, there's nothing beneath you. All I wanted was to live-I'd forgotten everything else. A clod of dirt doesn't have dreams. A bit of broken stone doesn't understand hope. Each morning, all I wanted was to see the next dawn. — Michael J. Sullivan

I'm not a violent person, Sydney. Not at all. I'll make love over war any day. But I swear, if they'd hurt you - "
"They didn't," I said firmly. I refused to let him know how scared I'd been because I was afraid he might go after them. "I'm fine. You came to the rescue."
A smile played at his lips. "Something tells me you would've rescued yourself." And like that, the smile vanished. "But spirit would've been a lot more effective than a branch."
"Your treejitsu was very effective. — Richelle Mead

Hello, Anne's clitoris. It's me, Malcolm, your lord and master."
"Oh, god, no." I covered my face with my hands. "Please don't."
"Shh. This is a private conversation." He brushed hot, feverish kisses up and down the lips of my sex. My stomach tensed so hard it hurt. "Look at you all pretty, pink, and excited. Don't worry, I'll look after you. — Kylie Scott

The doctor looked at it after the game and he thought it didn't look too bad, but we'll see what happens. My skate got caught and I twisted it. I heard it twist and I couldn't get up. All my body weight fell on it. I had to be really hurt to leave the game - we were still in the game at that point. — Martin Brodeur

Valancy herself had never quite relinquished a certain pitiful, shamed, little hope that Romance would come her way yet - never, until this wet, horrible morning, when she wakened to the fact that she was twenty-nine and unsought by any man. Ay, there lay the sting. Valancy did not mind so much being an old maid. After all, she thought, being an old maid couldn't possibly be as dreadful as being married to an Uncle Wellignton or an Uncle Benjamin, or even an Uncle Herbert. What hurt her was that she had never had a chance to be anything but an old maid. — L.M. Montgomery

It is of immense importance, that first and foremost, people identify themselves as human beings, rather than as a believer in a spiritual belief system. Any spiritual belief system. There is such a preoccupation with where a person will be after he/she dies, that people keep on forgetting we are all here right now - on this planet! Okay, so you are on your way to Heaven, of course, whilst many others who do not believe as you do are on their way to hell, of course - but those are not yet facts! The fact that we do have, though, is the fact that we are all here right now, on this Earth, living this life, breathing this air, and it's about time we identify ourselves with the reality in front of us: that we are human beings and we all cry, laugh, love and hurt. — C. JoyBell C.

Scary as this was ... telling her these things was like a bloodletting. The initial cut hurt like hell, but with it done he could feel the toxins escaping, making room for relief. And all at once he wanted to give in. With a blinding bolt of understanding, he realized he'd had it all wrong, blaming his fetish all this time, thinking of it as some twisted, fucked-up force that lived inside him. A thing to be drowned in liquor, glass by glass, night by night, year after year. It wasn't his desire that had poisoned him. It was his shame. — Cara McKenna

They say it's the woman's prerogative to change her mind. But that's wrong. Guys are the one who get to say, "You know what? I don't want to be with you after all." They get to say it after they've sucked all the sweetness out of you, just like those cheap, liquid filled wax candy things we used to get for Halloween. They leave you dried up, empty piece of wax, and head off to find somebody else who still has some sweetness inside. — Holly Schindler

Then, of course, after school, a gang of patriots, with the odds around seven-to-one, beat the shit out of me and make me kiss their red-white-and-blue totem. It's no better at home. Mom's an anarchopacifist, Tolstoy and all that, and she wants me to say I didn't fight back. Dad's a Wobbly and wants to be sure that I hurt some of them at least as bad as they hurt me. After they yell at me for a half hour, they yell at each other for two. — Robert Shea

Unhappy memories are persistent. They're specific, and it's the details that refuse to leave us alone. Though a happy memory may stay with you just as long as one that makes you miserable, what you remember softens over time. What you recall is simply that you were happy, not necessarily the individual moments that brought about your joy.
But the memory of something painful does just the opposite. It retains its original shape, all bony fingers and pointy elbows. Every time it returns, you get a quick poke in the eye or jab in the stomach. The memory of being unhappy has the power to hurt us long after the fact. We feel the injury anew each and every time we think of it. — Cameron Dokey

Touching him again reminded her of Versailles.She wanted to thank him for saving her from marrying the king. And to beg him never to hurt himself again as he'd done in Tibet. She wanted to ask what he'd dreamed about when he'd slept for days after she'd died in Prussia. She wanted to hear what he'd said to Luschka right before she died that awful night in Moscow. She wanted to pour out her love, and break down and cry,and let him know that every second of every lifetime she'd ben through,she had missed him with all her heart. — Lauren Kate

The essence of true love is mutual recognition-two individuals seeing each other as they really are. We all know that the usual approach is to meet someone we like and put our best self forward, or even at times a false self, one we believe will be more appealing to the person we want to attract. When our real self appears in its entirety, when the good behavior becomes too much to maintain or the masks are taken away, disappointment comes. All too often individuals feel, after the fact-when feelings are hurt and hearts are broken-that it was a case of mistaken identity, that the loved one is a stranger. They saw what they wanted to see rather than what was really there. — Bell Hooks

The more you hope the more you hurt. You drop a letter in a Holy Communion envelope in the postbox and already you are waiting for a reply. Human beings were built for response. But human nature can't tolerate too much waiting. Between the emotion and the response falls the shadow, T.S. Eliot said, and that was the principle that inspired texting, that came up with the shortest possible time, basically as fast as Sheila Geary's two thumbs could hammer ILY on a tiny keyboard and get Johnny Johnston's ILY2 back, so that between emotion and response now there wasn't all that much shadow. All writers are waiting for replies. That's what I've learned. Maybe all human beings are. After the Yeats classes my father returned — Niall Williams

Every star knows you step on some toes to get where you're going - and some more after you get there. Nobody means to hurt anybody else, it just happens. You always keep saying in the back of your mind that one day you will be able to right all the wrongs. That someday almost never comes. — Jayne Mansfield

After years of watching my parents -I always assumed marriage meant loving someone so much that you were blind to everything and everyone else. And when your eyes were finally opened you'd hate that person so much that all you wanted was to see them hurt, no matter what it cost. I never wanted to live like that. But with Kai, we aren't blind to the world. He doesn't blind me, being with him makes the world clearer. My eyes are open and there's no way I'd ever want to hurt him. — H.R. Willaston

I don't think he can hurt. Wizards and witches go hand in hand, after all. Didn't you read Harry Potter?"
Eden stared at him. "Well, yeah."
"I didn't read the books," he continued. "But I did get to see the movies. A previous host was a fan. He even wore dress robes and pretended he'd been sorted into a house. Hufflepuff, if you can believe it. Who liked Hufflepuff best? I mean, seriously. — Michelle Rowen

I will make mistakes, after all I am not perfect, but I will do my best to make them up to you. I would never hurt you intentionally. I would not give up on you, so I hope you don't give up on me.
Sincerely,
The Person that Loves You — Carlos Salinas

Truth gathers itself spotless and unhurt after all our surrenders and concealments and partisanship; never hurt by the treachery or ruin of its best defenders, whether Luther, or William Penn, or St. Paul. — Ralph Waldo Emerson

His hands tightened on her shoulders as the truth washed over him. My God, she really had told him yes.
He opened his mouth to ask if she was certain then didn't. If he did, she might change her mind, and he had no intention of giving her that opportunity. Underneath his hands, her shoulders quivered. She raised her gaze to him again, and his heart plunged into the depths. She had her lower lip trapped between her teeth, and her eyes were tormented pools of blue green. His heart broke just looking at her.
She was not in love with him. He knew that. Her acceptance of him had nothing to do with the sort of desperate longing he had for her. Not that he hadn't known that the first time he proposed to her, but to have her say yes out of despair added an edge of pain to his euphoria. He knew she wasn't indifferent to him, after all, and for the moment, that sufficed to keep the hurt at arm's
length. — Carolyn Jewel

I don't know is she loves me anymore, or if she hates me, or if she just don't care one way or the other, she ain't showing a thing to me since. Sooth, friendly, nothing. It's all I deserve after what I did to her. — Lisa Reardon

This truth remains: Only those you care about can hurt you. You expect more from them-after all, you've given more of yourself to them. The higher the expectations, the greater the fall. — John Bevere

I wanted to hear his window open, hear his espadrilles on the balcony, and then the sound of my own window, which was never locked, being pushed open as he'd step into my room after everyone had gone to bed, slip under my covers, undress me without asking, and after making me want him more than I thought I could ever want another living soul, gently, softly, and, with the kindness one Jew extends to another, work his way into my body, gently and softly, after heeding the words I'd been rehearsing for days now, Please, don't hurt me, which meant, Hurt me all you want. — Andre Aciman

Bastien rolled his eyes, "Calm down, Hauk. All you're going to do is hurt yourself."
He glared at Bastien. "If you want to see exactly how angry someone can get, tell them to calm down when they're already pissed off!" Bellowing, he tried his best to break free.
"Is that helping? I just gotta know."
"When I get loose, Cabarro, your ass is the first one I'm kicking."
"Oh good. Hope you get out soon. Been awhile since I had a good ass-kicking." Bastien made a kissy face at him.
"Says the man who's so bruised, he looks like a two-year old banana."
"Now that's just mean and hurtful."
"Telise! He's awake again."
She moved forward and kicked Hauk in the face. "I wouldn't do that," Bastien warned. "Don't motivate the Andarion for murder. It ain't going to work out well for any of us. 'Specially me, since mine's the first ass he's planning to come after. — Sherrilyn Kenyon

She glimpsed Levi cutting through the crowd to get to her. Smoothing her hair and finding a smile, she greeted him as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. "Would you like a piece of cake?" Levi peered down at her, concern lining his face. "Are you all right?" "Yes, of course. I'm fine." She tugged on her sleeve as if it could conceal the evidence of the sheriff's touch and reached for a clean plate. "You should try some of Chloe's lemon pound cake. It's delicious." Levi stroked her arm, his caress a soothing balm after the sheriff's manhandling. "Eden, look at me." She did, and all pretense fell away. "Did he hurt you?" "No." Eden sighed. — Karen Witemeyer

So more than a century ago, everyone agreed: No more indentured servitude. But today's employers have conspired to bring it back with H-1B visas, then they strut around like they're Martin Luther King by invoking the magical word "immigration." Immigration covers a multitude of sins because we have all agreed to pretend mass immigration from the Third World is the same thing as black civil rights. In the 1960s, leftists were at least self-destructive: They wanted to damage the country in ways that would hurt them, their parents, and their kids. The New Left has found a way to be self-righteous only after checking to make sure they've completely exempted themselves from the destruction they're wreaking. Liberals will pull every string imaginable to prevent their own kids from having to compete with immigrants - and then demand cheap employees for themselves. The middle class and lower class take it in the shorts - and the elites get to feel noble. — Ann Coulter

From somewhere Marla heard a terrifying scream
her scream
and she lunged at Martin, hitting him in the chest. When she hit him once, she couldn't stop. All of those times he had hurt her, and all of those times she had lied for him, protecting him so no one would find out. After all, he was a professional man, a doctor. He could be ruined if something like that got out. The good, kind doctor. He took care of people. He took care of her. She was one of those pitiful, unfortunate people who seemed to always have accidents. Bruises on her face and body, cuts and abrasions. It was so nice she was married to such a good doctor. Everyone admired him
auch a wonderful man. But he didn't hurt them. Only her. And now, Gale. — Barbara Casey

I suppose we're all possessed in some way. Some of us with dependence on pills or wine. Others through sex or gambling. Some of us through self-destruction or anger or fear. And some of us just carry around our tiny demon as he wreaks havoc in our mind, tearing open old dusty trunks of bad memories and leaving the remnants spread everywhere. Wearing the skins of people we've hurt. Wearing the skins of people we've loved. And sometimes, when it's worst, wearing our skins. These times are the hardest. When you can see yourself confined to your bed because you have no strength or will to leave. When you find yourself yelling at someone you love because they want to help but can't. When you wake up in a gutter after trying to drink or smoke or dance away the ache - or the lack thereof. Those times when you are more demon than you are you. I — Jenny Lawson

That is what I thought of you, Ellie. Heartless, reckless, selfish, and cruel."
He was back to shooting me when my armor was down. I turned my face away from him, not wanting to let him see the hurt in my eyes. He reached up and put his fingers under my chin, bringing my face forward again, forcing me to look at him.
"Beautiful, sad, wounded, and lost," he continued. "A freak, a work of art, a liar, and a lover."
His gaze was starting to eat away at my insides. Razor-blade butterflies whirled in my heart.
"I hate you, Ellie Watt," he whispered, lips coming closer to mine, "because I still love you after all these years. — Karina Halle

Are you hurt?" Alex asked.

Chris felt his chest seize with panic. "No, are you?" he asked quickly.

"No," Alex replied. "My head hurts, but I'm guessing that's because I was knocked out."

"Yeah," Chris said, trying to ignore the pounding in his skull. "Mine too." He let out a frustrated breath. "Thanks a lot!"

There was a pause before Alex asked, "You're blaming me for this?"

"You distracted me," Chris accused. "If you hadn't been there, I would have sensed the attack."

"Yeah, sure," Alex said, sarcasm thick in his voice. "You would have sensed it. You have great intuition, after all."

"Shut up!" Chris barked. — S.F. Mazhar

I learned from your mother that you can't get past something like this," I said. I glanced at Allison and Travis and saw they were listening. "You have to get through it. If you try to ignore the pain, it will just make things worse. You have to embrace it, feel it all, and then somehow emerge on the other side. It won't happen all at once, but it will happen. And in the end, after all the hurt and tears and pain, it will become a part of who you are. — Steve Gannon

Holding my pendant, I lay on my side without moving, noiseless tears streaming down my face until the pillow grew damp beneath my cheek. I didn't want to die. I wanted to live, to be with Alex, to experience so much more than I had so far. But just then, it was Alex I was crying for. All that he'd gone through, all those deaths of people he loved
and now he was having to experience it again, with me. Thinking of what he was going through was like being beaten up inside; it was even worse than imagining whatever might happen the next day. Part of me hoped that he really did hate me now
maybe it would help; maybe it would make it not hurt so much.
And more than that, I guess I was crying for both of us ... that it hadn't turned out to be always, after all. — L.A. Weatherly

After everything happened with you and me, I tried to heal. I knew that I needed to forget you and move on. I hurt so much; everyday felt like a death sentence. I mourned you like you were dead and then, I met Leah. We were set up on a blind date and I remember feeling hope that day. It was the first day in a year that I felt hope. We took our time getting to know each other, I bought her a ring." He shot me a look to see if I remembered the iceberg.
"And then, all of a sudden I missed you again. I mean, I never stopped missing you, but this time it hit me hard. I couldn't go to sleep for a single night without seeing you in my dreams. I compared everything Leah did to everything I remembered about you. It was like the old wound opened itself up again and I was bleeding out my feelings for you." I close my eyes at his words. Words that I want to hear badly but that are making my heart ache so terribly I can barely breathe. — Tarryn Fisher

I can't forgive you. I can't and won't trust you again. You betrayed me and it can never be made right again.
Also, I can't forgive myself. The things I did to hurt you, to survive after you left, and of course, the things I did to take revenge for the things you did, have damaged me beyond all repair. — R.K. Lilley

When we forgive someone, we do not forget the hurtful act, as if forgetting came along with the forgiveness package, the way strings come with a violin. Begin with the basics. If you forget, you will not forgive at all. You can never forgive people for things you have forgotten about. You need to forgive precisely because you have not forgotten what someone did; your memory keeps the pain alive long after the hurt has stopped. Remembering is the storage of pain. It is why you need to be healed in the first place. — Lewis B. Smedes

Yeah, that's all," said Dill. "He'll probably come out after you when he sees you in the yard, then Scout'n' me'll jump on him and hold him down till we can tell him we ain't gonna hurt him. — Harper Lee

There are some things about myself I can't explain to anyone. There are some things I don't understand at all. I can't tell what I think about things or what I'm after. I don't know what my strengths are or what I'm supposed to do about them. But if I start thinking about these things in too much detail the whole thing gets scary. And if I get scared I can only think about myself. I become really self-centered, and without meaning to, I hurt people. So I'm not such a wonderful human being. — Haruki Murakami

I once defenestrated a guy. The cops got all pissed off at me. I was drunk, but they said that was no excuse."

"Ah well," Virgil said. Then, "The guy hurt bad?"

"Cracked his hip. Landed on a Prius. Really fucked up the Prius, too."

"I can tell you, just now is the only time in my life I ever heard 'defenestration' used in a sentence," Virgil said.

"It's a word you learn after you done it," Morton said. "Yup. The New Prague AmericInn, 2009."

Virgil was amazed. "Really? The defenstration of New Prague? — John Sandford

A profound love between two people involves, after all, the power and chance of doing profound hurt. — Ursula K. Le Guin

It is right," said the abbess. "It isn't kind ... What else did our Lord show us, Sister?" she asked, "in this Paschal time? I expect, like you, after all the suffering, betrayal, desertion, intolerable disappointment, and being hurt, he would have liked to have taken refuge with his Father, but he stayed on earth and what did he do> He didn't try then to teach us, bring us up
that was left to the Holy Spirit. He did simple ordinary loving things: loving things, Sister, like consoling Mary Magdalene, walking and talking with the disciples, breaking bread with them, cooking their breakfast. Didn't you," asked the Abbess Catherine, "come here to try and follow him? — Rumer Godden

After all, as it says on a needlepoint sampler or throw pillow or the occasional bumper sticker: Good girls go to heaven, but bad girls go everywhere. In high heels. Or mules by Manolo Blahnik, the strappy, tangly kind that give you blisters. And when their feet start to hurt, they bitch about it a lot, until someone agrees to carry them home. Bad girls understand that there is no point in being good and suffering in silence. What good has good ever done? We women still only make seventy-one cents, on average, for every man's dollar. We still have to listen to studies telling us that a single woman over the age of 35 had best avoid airplanes because she is more likely to die in a terrorist attack than get married. — Elizabeth Wurtzel

I don't think I'm going to like it at all. I think it's going to hurt. But after the hurt I think maybe something good and strong and beautiful will come out of it. — Kathryn Erskine

You know all those times you just don't dare to dream? You tell yourself it'll only end badly. Why hurt yourself for no reason? And after a while you teach yourself to not dream at all?"
"No, I always dream. The bigger, the better. — Lee Winter

It wasn't every day that a lion shifter next in line to the throne, dealing with a possible uproar and war in his Pride, found himself a soon-to-be father with a not-so-human potential mate after he'd left her all alone because he'd been forced to hurt her. There weren't any manuals for this sort of thing ... — Carrie Ann Ryan

I'm sorry if I made you think I don't trust you."
"You don't. Not yet. And that's okay. Just stop assuming I'm only out to hurt you, or take something you're not willing to give. If you're not interested, all you have to do is say so. I can't say I won't be disappointed, but I'll leave you alone if that's what you want."
"I am interested," she said more boldly than she actually felt. "Please understand, my caution comes from experience. You've already proven you're not like the asshole. I'm glad you came last night. I'm glad you're still here this morning."
"See, I'm not so hard to like," he teased, putting her at ease after the tense moments they'd just shared. — Jennifer Ryan

There was no other way to say it. After being heartbroken for so long, I had made myself completely numb inside. Maybe not from physical pain, but anything emotional, yes. Sexual pleasure? Numb to that, too. I'd have been a great actress. After all, I had the perfect, mind-blowing orgasm down to an art. Suppose I deserve an Oscar for that. — Jennifer Salaiz

Let's hope that for every time that we get hurt or break our heart, there is something somewhere being written to make up for it, to make the happiness due even bigger and laughters even merrier, for after all good things must happen to good people. — Mansi Soni

And that is why a dog can go to the vet and have a really big operation and have metal pins sticking out of its leg but if it sees a cat it forgets that it has pins sticking out of its leg and chases after the cat. But when a person has an operation it has a picture in its head of the hurt carrying on for months and months. And it has a picture of all the stitches in its leg and the broken bone and the pins and even if it sees a bus it has to catch it doesn't run because it has a picture in its head of the bones crunching together and the stitches breaking and even more pain. — Mark Haddon

Wait for me."
If his voice was just a bit hoarse, she didn't seem to take note of it. She looked at him as though he had reached over and slapped her. "You don't trust me? After all that talk of taking me for my word - "
"This isn't about trust."
"That is precisely what this is about." Her fingers fisted in her skirts. "Because I've trusted you."
It hurt him to hear it. He didn't know what else to do. He had no contacts left. He was walking around now like a blind man. He didn't need the added weight of her safety on his conscience.
Caine's eyes fell away again. "Maybe you shouldn't."
That earned him a flustered: "You told me to! — V.S. Carnes

Over the years I'd lodged him in the permanent past, my pluperfect lover, put him on ice, stuffed him with memories and mothballs like a hunted ornament confabulating with the ghost of all my evenings. I'd dust him off from time to time and then put him back on the mantelpiece. He no longer belonged to earth or to life. All I was likely to discover at this point wasn't just how distant were the paths we'd taken, it was the measure of loss that was going to strike me
a loss I didn't mind thinking about in abstract terms but which would hurt when stared at in the face, the way nostalgia hurts long after we've stopped thinking of things we lost and may never have cared for. — Andre Aciman

From the introduction "After all, the great joy of literature, as opposed to politics or religion, is that it embraces differing opinions, it encourages debate, it allows us to have heated conversations with our closes friends and dearest loved ones. And through it all, no one gets hurt, no one gets taken away from their homes, and no one gets killed. — John Boyne

Life. It's your birthday present. Open it up and play with it. Act like you like it. (The One who gave it to you is watching, after all. Don't want to hurt his feelings.) And if you don't like your life, CHANGE IT. It is all yours. — Jill Conner Browne

I come from a minimum wage working world, as we all did for at least some part of our lives, and that is never out of my rearview. I've never forgotten how much your feet hurt after you've stood on them for like 12 hours. And how the drudgery of a job you hate craps on your entire life; how you treat other people, how you treat yourself, and it really was getting to me. — Henry Rollins

I think you're very brave," he whispered. "You're a fire that should burn itself out in five seconds of brilliant combustion. I know what it's like to put forth that much energy, and yet you do it night after night. And nobody - not marquesses nor guardians nor physicians, not the whole weight of society's expectations - can make you stop." She let out a sigh, a trembling sigh that had her lips brushing against his thumb. So much like a kiss. "If people want you to stop talking, or to stop dressing the way you do, or to change who you are, it's because you hurt their eyes. We've all been trained not to stare into the sun. — Courtney Milan

Sometimes just seeing a woman smile is like a knife in the heart. It hurts and it rattles your whole system, but against all your instincts you swallow the pain and keep looking. After a while you realize it doesn't hurt as much as you thought it would. — Richard Kadrey

It would not hurt, after all, to walk into the woods. — Anne Ursu

He rolled her over, rising above her, cupping her cheek. "I wasn't lying, Loree. I've always heard the music in my heart ... but I lost the ability to do that when I went to prison. It was like the music just shriveled up and died. I thought I'd never hear it again. How could I play the violin if I couldn't hear the music? Then lately, I started going crazy because I'd hear snatches of music - when you'd look at me or smile at me. But I couldn't grab onto it, I couldn't hold it. Then last night, you told me that you loved me and I heard the music, so sweet, so soft. It scared me to hear it so clearly after I hadn't for so long.
"Tonight, I hurt you - again. I was going to let you go, Loree. I was gonna take you back to Austin. But I heard my heart break ... and I knew that's all I'd hear for the rest of my life. Don't leave me, Sugar."
Joy filled her and she brushed the locks of hair back off his brow. "I won't."
-Austin and Loree — Lorraine Heath

It is the unqualified result of all my experience with the sick that, second only to their need of fresh air, is their need of light; that, after a close room, what hurts them most is a dark room and that it is not only light but direct sunlight they want. — Florence Nightingale

After years, she had relegated all thoughts of him to the closet; in time, she'd forgotten. Now she remembered. It scared her to feel this way. He had hurt her so many times. "Papa." He went to the loveseat and sat down. The cushions sagged tiredly beneath his meager weight. "I was a terrible father to you girls." It was so surprising - and true - that Vianne had no idea what to say. He sighed. "It's too late now to fix all that." She joined him at the loveseat, sat down beside him. "It's never too late," she said cautiously. Was it true? Could she forgive him? Yes. The answer came instantly, as unexpected as his appearance here. He turned to her. "I have so much to say and no time to say it. — Kristin Hannah

We need to get home and put some ointments and ice on the stings. Vinegar will make it worse, so if you thought Giraffe Boy could pee on you, you're shit out of luck."
She agrees as if prepared for this - the punishment, the medication, the swelling, the pain that hurts her now and the pain that will hurt her later. She seems okay with my disapproval. She's gotten her story, after all, and she's beginning to see how much easier physical pain is to tolerate than emotional pain. I'm unhappy that she's learning this at such a young age.
"The hospital will have ointments and ice," she says. — Kaui Hart Hemmings

You do what you can," he said, after seconds of silence had stretched to a minute, "to make sure your kids are safe. From the second they're born ... " He stared at the lines of Nightshade's face, the ordinariness of it. "You want to protect them. From every skinned knee, from hurt feelings and punk kids who push smaller ones into the dirt, form the worst parts of yourself and the worst parts of this world. — Jennifer Lynn Barnes

What if someone hurts you with a weapon? Wait. Think it over. You probably feel angry. That's normal. But wasn't it the stick striking your body that hurt you? Can you be angry at the stick? Of course not. Should you be angry at the wielder of the stick? Wouldn't it make more sense to be angry at the hatred in the mind of the stick wielder? If you think about it, isn't the end of hatred in the world what you want most of all? Why, then, would you add to it by giving energy to your anger? After all, it will pass on its own if left alone, especially if you respond to it with compassion. — Sylvia Boorstein

It felt like another loss. Each time he thought he was doing well, avoiding the hope. Each time he told himself: I have no expectations, but with each new failure it hurt so much he understood the hope had been there after all, flitting seductively around his subconscious. It didn't get easier either. It got worse. A cumulative effect. Loss upon loss. — Liane Moriarty

It's just death and resurrection, over and over again, day after day, as God reaches down into our deepest graves and with the same power that raised Jesus from the dead wrests us from our pride, our apathy, our fear, our prejudice, our anger, our hurt, and our despair. Most days I don't know which is harder for me to believe: that God reanimated the brain functions of a man three days dead, or that God can bring back to life all the beautiful things we have killed. Both seem pretty unlikely to me. — Rachel Held Evans

When the twilight of all my evenings reaches me, after a long dark day, my complicated thoughts suffocate inside all of my uncomplicated longings.

Evenings refuse to end. And the dawns that constantly swallow up my nights, always shows me an extremely long road I still need to tread, and discover.

And get hurt. — Khadija Rupa

I'm starting to believe that happily ever after includes people doing things that upset each other. We all get cranky, or impatient, or worried, or careless enough to do or say things that hurt someone else. Like it or not, that's normal. We can't blame it all on Olympia's bad energy. The important part is that we feel sorry about what we've done and make up for it. That's something Olympia never did. — Jean Ferris

Our language, tiger, our language: hundreds of thousands of available words, frillions of legitimate new ideas ... And yet, oh, and yet, we, all of us, spend all our days saying to each other the same things time after weary time: "I love you," "Don't go in there," "Get out," "You have no right to say that," "Stop it," "Why should I," "That hurt," "Help," "Marjorie is dead. — Stephen Fry

She had been ready to love this man from the moment she first saw him. In all these years, that had never changed. They'd hurt each other, let each other down, and yet, here they were after everything, together. She needed him now, needed him to remind her that she was live, that she wasn't alone, that she hadn't lost everything. — Kristin Hannah

The silences after his last gasp were sung together by a blackbird. I lay there, my eyes unable to close. His were unable to open. I listed the places where I hurt, and how much. My loins felt ripped. Something inside had torn. There were seven places on my body where he had sunk his fangs into my skin and bitten. He'd dug his nails into my neck, and twisted my head to one side, and clawed my face. I hadn't made a noise. He had made all the noise for both of us. Had it hurt him? — David Mitchell

We only seem to learn from Life that Life doesn't matter so much as it seemed to do - it's not so burningly important, after all, what happens. We crawl, like blinking sea-creatures, out of the Ocean onto a spur of rock, we creep over the promontory bewildered and dazzled and hurting ourselves, then we drop in the ocean on the other side: and the little transit doesn't matter so much. — D.H. Lawrence

Like most guys, I had bought into the stereotype that all feminists were white, lesbian, unattractive male bashers who hated all men. But after reading the work of these black feminists, I realized that this was far from the truth. After digging into their work, I came to really respect the intelligence, courage and honesty of these women.
Feminists did not hate men. In fact, they loved men. But just as my father had silenced my mother during their arguments to avoid hearing her gripes, men silenced feminists by belittling them in order to dodge hearing the truth about who we are. — Byron Hurt

But books were full of stories and stories were full of lies and lies hurt Jesus's feelings, so I didn't know what to think. I blamed my family. They were the ones who taught me so much about telling stories, and how not to do it, and then, in inspired moments of surprise, how to tell one so good you forgot what day it was, and I liked forgetting what day it was, so I made certain life choices that would allow me to get paid to forget what day it was and teach others to forget what day it was, which is, after all, what I think heaven probably is: the whole world, forgetting what day it is. You have to, I bet, with an endless supply of them. — Harrison Scott Key

After all, to love somebody is to give them the power to hurt you, and nobody can hurt you if you're the only one writing the script. — Donald Miller

Blake took a small roll from the tray on the table, then put it back in favor of a larger one. And maybe a little butter. It certainly couldn't hurt. And jam ... no, he drew the line at jam. She was a spy, after all. — Julia Quinn

I'm burning, after all, even if it's not for my convictions. Does flesh charring off at the bone hurt less when you know you are right, even though everyone thinks you are wrong?
That line of reasoning leads me right to Andrew.
And then it's a fast beeline to thinking of Delia.
I don't think anyone has ever died of unrequited love. I wonder if I'll be the first. — Jodi Picoult

There are a few things in life so beautiful they hurt: swimming in the ocean while it rains, reading alone in empty libraries, the sea of stars that appear when you're miles away from the neon lights of the city, bars after 2am, walking in the wilderness, all the phases of the moon, the things we do not know about the universe, and you. — Beau Taplin

And this time as the lashes come, try to think about the pain, instead of against it, because there is not one single aspect of life, past, present, or future, that does not tear your reason from you, to think on it. So think about the pain. This pain after all has its limits. You can chart its passage through your body. It has a beginning, middle, end. Imagine if it had a color. The first cut of the lash is what, red? Red, spreading into a brilliant yellow. And this one again, red, red, no yellow, and then white, white, white, white ... Why have you incarcerated yourself in this palazzo of torture chambers, why do you not leave this place? Because you are a monster and this is a school for monsters, and if you leave here, then you will be completely, completely alone! Alone with this!
Don't weep in front of these strangers. Swallow it down. Don't weep in front of these strangers! Cry to heaven, cry to heaven, cry to heaven. — Anne Rice

He let go of the rope one hand at a time and latched onto Lisa's hands. Her fingernails dug into his wrists, but her grip was strong after a summer of lifting girls into the air. It was a tug of war battle between his friends and Shawn's ghost. The wind died down as Shawn gathered all of his energy to pull on Mike. Even though he was terrified of what was happening, Mike knew that Shawn wasn't trying to hurt him. After all these years, he was still trying to find a way out. Shawn wanted to go home too, and he saw the hope of being rescued falling away.
"Shawn! Please! Let me go!" Mike called over the dying wind, "I'll get you help! We'll get you out! Just please! Let me go!"

- Saving Hascal's Horrors — Laura Smith

Rub your eyes and purify your heart-and prize above all else in the world those who love you and who wish you well. Do not hurt them or scold them, and never part from any of them in anger; after all, you simply do not know: it might be your last act before your arrest, and that will be how you are printed in their memory! — Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn

This was ambiguity: holding on to an empty space between two extremes. "You were hurt, a little, weren't you?" his wife had asked. "I'm human, after all. I was hurt," he'd replied. But that wasn't true. Half of it, at least, was a lie. I wasn't hurt enough when I should have been, Kino admitted to himself. When I should have felt real pain, I stifled it. I didn't want to take it on, so I avoided facing up to it. Which is why my heart is so empty now. The snakes have grabbed that spot and are trying to hide their coldly beating hearts there. — Haruki Murakami

Bronagh," I said, grinning at my sister.
"What is your favourite position in bed?"
Dominic looked at his lady, a smirk playing on his lips. Bronagh mulled my question over in her mind then after some serious consideration she said, "Near the wall, so I'm closest to me phone when it's chargin'."
I tittered at her answer, then looked to Dominic and burst into laughter. The look of hurt and betrayal was plastered all over his sculpted face.
"Kicking me in the nuts would have been less painful, Bronagh," he muttered as he stood up and practically dragged himself, and his wounded ego, out of the room — L.A. Casey

Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe among the earthworms, without killing a single one. — Thomas Hardy

In the music industry I get a lot of public judgement. Any time the topic of my religion surfaces, there are always people who react negatively, telling me to leave my crazy beliefs out of it. The problem is, I can't. My beliefs are as much a part of my being as my music, or my family, or my obsession with earthy-tasting cereal. Luckily, after all the rejection I faced on my mission, I'm no longer afraid of negative reactions. I've already heard it all--- face-to-face. Hateful comments still hurt, but they don't hold the same weight they once did. Besides, say what you want, but I'm a short-haired angel. (Or at least I was to one man on a subway.) — Lindsey Stirling

didn't realize I was crying until the tears hit my chin and plummeted to my shirt. Fire burned my nose. Five-six-seven-eight-nine-ten-eleven-twelve-thirteen-and-fourteen-year-old Vanessa all came back to me with the same feeling that had been so strong in those years: hurt. The Vanessa who was fifteen and older had felt a different emotion for so long: anger. Anger at my mom's selfishness. Anger at her for not being able to clean her act up until years after we'd been taken away from her. Anger for being let down for so long, time and time again. — Mariana Zapata

He had his one life. In June 1942 he went to Lazarevo holding it in his hands. By the shores of the Kama, he found her gorgeous and restored, and not just restored to her original shining brilliance but enlarged and clarified. Light reflected off her, no matter which way she turned. They ran down to the almighty river. She never even looked back. She would never know what it meant to him, an unremitting sinner, after all the unsacred things he had seen and done, to have her innocence. He held her to him. He had dreamed of it too long, touching her. Dreamed of seeing her naked too long, beautiful, bare, ready for him. He was afraid to hurt her. He had never been with an untouched girl before; he wasn't sure if he was supposed to do something first. In the end, he did nothing first, but she baptized him with her body. There was no Alexander anymore; the man he knew had died and was reborn inside a perfect heart, given to him straight from God, to him and for him. — Paullina Simons

Fearghus watched his mate a moment longer. It had been five years since he last saw her. Five years since he last touched her, kissed her, fucked her, saw her smile, told her to calm down, yanked a weapon from her hands before she hurt someone, or stopped her from getting in a pit brawl with her own daughter. It had been too long since he'd done all that and it was a bit overwhelming to be here now, so close to her after all this time.
Annwyl slammed her spear into another Sovereign, then leaned against it, wiping her brow with the back of her hand and looking out over all the bodies she and her troops had left behind.
She looked rather proud. — G.A. Aiken

After she left, he stood as still as he dared, listening to the sound of the cart recede into the distance. Listening, past all hope of hearing her. He wasn't even conscious of breathing, and yet his lungs ached fiercely. He had been wrong. It would have been easier if it had slain him. But he was still standing. Still cogent. And that meant he was all too aware of how badly it hurt. He clutched her hairpin until the metal cunt into the palm of his hand, unable to let even that much go. — Courtney Milan

When my mind tells me there's no possible way ahead, Beloved, may Love whisper to me, "Yes, there is a way! I've gone that way a thousand times before." When my mind says, "Danger lies ahead. It will hurt too much, if you surrender all," let me hear Love's laughter, as I hear Love say, "The pain is only in your mind." Teach me to find the roses hidden in my pain, so that I may discover within my inner self, rose garden after rose garden. — Devon Holcombe

It did not occur to them to refuse. They knew that if you find some person or creature in desperate need of help which you can supply you have a human duty to supply it, even if it could inconvenience or even hurt you to do so. This, after all, is how the greatest and best deeds in the world have been done, and though the children did not say this aloud, they knew it inside themselves without even thinking about it. — Mary Stewart

Studios might cast an actor because he is too tall next to the leading lady, who is too short, or they might not cast your guy because he's blond, and they wanted a brunette. There's all kinds of reasons why they want one person over another. I don't worry about it, but it can hurt sometimes if you really wanted something, if you really went after something. — Bruce Campbell

Kingsley kissed the top of Fionn's head. His heart clenched so tightly, his chest hurt. No wonder he'd sought after pain all his life. It felt just like love. — Tiffany Reisz

You okay?" "Fine." "Your heart's beating really fast." "Gee, thanks. That's very comforting that you can hear it." He smiled, and it was the old Michael, the one she'd first met before all the vamp stuff. "Yeah, I know it is. Sorry. Just stay behind me if there's trouble." "You sound like Shane." "Well, he did say he'd kill me if I got you hurt. I'm just looking after my own neck." "Liar. — Rachel Caine

Isn't he utterly divine? Beautiful?"
"Somehow,I think he'd disagree with that last one." And not enough with the first.
"All right," she waved her dismissively. "Handsome then. Do you think he noticed me?"
"We were sprawled in a heap of twitching limbs and lace at his feet. He would have had to have been unconscious not to notice us."
She wrinkled her nose. "I meant,do you think he noticed I'm nearly on the Marriage Mart now?"
I didn't know how to reply. I didn't want to hurt her feelings,but I wasn't sure Frederic noticed anything other than cards and port.He was twenty years old,after all,and quite wealthy. He was acting exactly as he was expected to.
Her cheeks were red. "We should return before Mother wonders where we've gone off to.Heaven forbid we might be somewhere enjoying ourselves! — Alyxandra Harvey