Love Suffering Quotes

Love until it hurts. Real love is always painful and hurts: then it is real and pure.

Those whose suffering is due to love are, as we say of certain invalids, their own physicians.

Love is only known by him who hopelessly persists in love.

Of love, that fairest joys give most unrest.

The blood of love welled up in my heart with a slow pain.

He who is himself crossed in love is able from time to time to master his passion, for he is not the creature but the creator of his own misery; and if a lover is unable to control his passion, he at least knows that he is himself to blame for his sufferings. But he who is loved without reciprocating that love is lost beyond redemption, for it is not in his power to set a limit to that other's passion, to keep it within bounds, and the strongest will is reduced to impotence in the face of another's desire.

Those particular thoughts that are painful - love them. I love them to death!

Was this love? Because it hurt. It was like a bit of glass stuck somewhere important--his heart or his head, and it was throbbing.

When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o'erflow? If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad, Threatening the welkin with his big-swoln face? And wilt thou have a reason for this coil? I am the sea; hark, how her sighs do blow! She is the weeping welkin, I the earth: Then must my sea be moved with her sighs; Then must my earth with her continual tears Become a deluge, overflow'd and drown'd: For why my bowels cannot hide her woes, But like a drunkard must I vomit them. Then give me leave, for losers will have leave To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues.

In Friendship we only see those faults which may be prejudicial to our friends. In love we see no faults but those by which we suffer ourselves.

There is no pain equal to that which two lovers can inflict on one another.

A promise, a bond, a joy, a love for the ages, for the history books.…But what was love but pain?

When I think of love, I think of pain and not joy. I know that is not the way it's supposed to be but it has been that way for me.

It hurts being the one who loves more

To feel, to love, to suffer, to devote herself, will always be the text of the life of woman.

Pains of love be sweeter far than all other pleasures are.

But that afternoon he asked himself, with his infinite capacity for illusion, if such pitiless indifference might not be a subterfuge for hiding the torments of love.

She never imagined a scenario in which her love was not returned with the same depth of feeling, for to her it was impossible to believe that a love of such magnitude could have stunned only her. The most elementary logic and justice indicated that somewhere in the city he was suffering the same delicious torment.

This is love if it's not with you, a terrible fiery something that makes people look away, and it feels like a punch in the throat.

The tragedy is not that love doesn't last. The tragedy is the love that lasts.

It would appear that love is dead. Or very likely in a bad way.

You who suffer because you love, love still more. To die of love, is to live by it.

We're always looking at this love through the eyes of the person who is suffering because of this love.