I Am Used To Getting Hurt Quotes & Sayings

So you're like a ... an amateur sleuth?"
"God no. I'm more like the hapless guys in those film-noir flicks we used to watch. I keep getting tangled up in bizarro events."
"Oh yes?" His eyes lit with enthusiasm. I was speaking his language now. "Guy Pearce in L.A. Confidential or William Hurt in Body Heat?"
"I was thinking more like Woody Allen in Play It Again, Sam. — Josh Lanyon

I've been a storyteller since I was six years old when my mother had her first series of electroshock therapy treatments. I made up stories to keep my sisters quiet while mom slept." Dear Deb
"I didn't know how it felt to have cancer, but I knew about fear." Dear Deb
"Two people have tried to kill me. The first person was my mother." Dear Deb
"I used to believe there were big miracles and little miracles. But, I'm not so sure God measures miracles." Dear Deb
"I was raised to believe forgiveness was a gift I was supposed to give the person who hurt me, but that felt like giving a bully an ice cream cone after he pushed me down on the playground." Dear Deb
"Miracles are one of God's ways of getting our attention. I know he got mine. It's a miracle I'm here." Dear Deb — Margaret Terry

The sulky, defensive expression she used to pull as a child no longer fits her face. In the last year or two her cheeks have most some of their softness. Her eyebrows have grown fuller and seem to sit on top of her eyes with a permanently hurt expression she can't shift. Her skin is less soft, the salt is finally getting in there too. She's grown tall and strong and with it she's grown petulant. — Jeremy Page

And when we used to play and fight in the streets in Brooklyn and I would get hurt or something, my mother would always come out and save me. So that sort of postponed the inevitable about getting a good beating, without having somebody to come and save you. — Sanford I. Weill

The interaction with the unaccountable, self-regulating business called "modern medicine" is analogous to buying a used car from a stranger: you never really know what you're getting because of the things you're not being told. And what is not being disclosed can (seriously) hurt you.
(in "The Mammogram Myth: The Independent Investigation Of Mammography The Medical Profession Doesn't Want You To Know About", 2013) — Rolf Hefti

The tattoo artist inflicts pain and I take it. With each breath I count to one again. Each inhale, each exhale, time passes in the smallest of pieces, and pieces still smaller than those.
This is how you count a life. This is how you go through it. Each second of hurt is a second that's already passed, one you never have to go through again. I have counted in pieces that small, when walking from the bed to the fridge seemed an insurmountable goal. I have counted my breaths, my steps, my eye-blinks, my hiccups, the tiny pulse in my thumb. And when I started getting tattooed, two of the things I used to need were gone: to write on myself, and to find irrelevant things to count. A second of intense pain is the most profound thing you can live through. And another, and another, and another, and then you know what it is to feel, and to struggle through that feeling one small agonizing increment at a time, and if you know that, you know what it is to live with mental illness. — Stacy Pershall

Everything okay, sweet pea?" Garret asked as he walked over.
"Yep. Just talking to Sean and getting some fresh air."
Garret shoved his hands into his pockets. "You mean you're hiding out here with this pussy who's here for the same reason."
Sean grunted. "Yeah, the exact same reason you've run outside like a damn girl."
Garret grinned. "Too many damned people. Ma eats that shit up, but I swear it makes the rest of us crazy."
"So at what point is she going to figure out we've fled the premises?" Rachel asked. The last thing she wanted was to hurt Marlene's feelings.
"Not to worry. Mom is well used to having to round us up. She usually gives us ten minutes or so to get the crazed look from our eyes, and then she'll come out all sweet-like but with a glint in her eyes you know better than to ignore."
"And at that point, she drags us back inside by our ears," Sean finished. — Maya Banks

I forgive you, but no more lies."
"None."
She leaned away and propped herself up on an elbow. "I'm serious, Kash. Not even the forgiving lies to save me from getting my feelings hurt. If I ask you if my butt looks big, you can't lie."
"Woman, you barely even have an ass. That was the worst example you could have used. — Molly McAdams

No I don't get scared when returning kicks or worry about getting hurt. I have been doing this since childhood so I am used to it. — Dante Hall

For the first and only time, I was more worried about getting hurt by the crowd than by the guy I was fighting. I got a pretty good blast when introduced. The crowd was hollering and raising hell. I looked around for my bodyguard, a colorful New York character named Wild Bill Lyons, who packed two pearl-handled pistols and used to talk a lot about his days in the West. Wild Bill was under the ring, hiding. — Jack Dempsey

She used to think alone was the answer. Alone would stop the whispers and the taunts. Alone couldn't get her into any more trouble. Alone meant not getting hurt. Now, she'd give anything to see another human being. To hear someone call her name — Kathryn Holmes