Just because someone hurts you doesn’t mean you can simply stop loving them. It’s not a person’s actions that hurt the most. It’s the love. If there was no love attached to the action, the pain would be a little easier to bear.
It always hurts more to have and lose than to not have in the first place.
It’s wrong to hurt even bad people. Because they don’t know any better, and because bad people sometimes become good.
Something else is hurting you – that’s why you need pot or whiskey, or whips and rubber suits, or screaming music turned so f***ing loud you can’t think.
What hurts us is what heals us.[Aquilo que nos fere é aquilo que nos cura.]
They hurt each other without wanting to, just because each represented to the others the cruel and demanding necessity of their lives.[Ils se faisaient du mal les uns aux autres sans le vouloir et simplement parce qu’ils étaient chacun pour l’autre les représentants de la nécessité besogneuse et cruelle où ils vivaient.]
That old saying, about how you always kill the thing you love, well, it works both ways. And it does work both ways.
People hurt each other. That’s how it works. At least you were trying to do something good. Not everyone can say that much.
If she had hurt me, I could have forgiven her without even having to think about it; but I couldn’t forgive her for being hurt.
I tell them stars have never hurt me, I wish I could say the same about people.
I have come to realize that destiny can hurt a person as much as it can bless him, and I find myself wondering why—out of all the people in all the world I could ever have loved—I had to fall in love with someone who was taken away from me.
I don’t know what the truth is. The truth is what hurts.
