Mental Pain Quotes

We suffer more in imagination than in reality.

The pain of severe depression is quite unimaginable to those who have not suffered it.

I’m ready to die. I hope it’s not too uncomfortable.

The only antidote to mental suffering is physical pain.

Pain is not the same as suffering. Left to itself, the body discharges pain spontaneously, letting go of it the moment that the underlying cause is healed. Suffering is pain that we hold on to. It comes from the mind’s mysterious instinct to believe that pain is good, or that it cannot be escaped, or that the person deserves it.

Isolation is the sum total of wretchedness to a man.

I have at times tried to imagine the despair which leads to suicide, attempted to conjure up the slew and slop of darkness in which only death appears as a pinprick of light: in other words, the exact opposite of the normal condition of life.

It isn't what happens to us that causes us to suffer; it's what we say to ourselves about what happens.

I suffer from life and from other people. I can’t look at reality face to face. Even the sun discourages and depresses me. Only at night and all alone, withdrawn, forgotten and lost, with no connection to anything real or useful — only then do I find myself and feel comforted.

I walked into my own book, seeking peace. It was night, and I made a careless movement inside the dream; I turned too brusquely the corner and I bruised myself against my madness.

The resistance to the unpleasant situation is the root of suffering.

I know that things get worse before they get better because that’s what my psychiatrist says, but this is a worse that feels too big.

Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink for fellows whom it hurts to think.

See, the darkness is leaking from the cracks. I cannot contain it. I cannot contain my life.

I'd be on stage in Ireland performing for thousands of people and just not believing in what I'm doing at all. And it hurt, it hurt badly. I knew every day that I couldn't continue this way.

Who feareth to suffer suffereth already, because he feareth.

I hate myself, and I want to die

I close my eyes and I take a deep breath and I think about my life and how I ended up this way. I think about the ruin, devastation and wreckage I have caused to myself and to others. I think about self-hatred and self-loathing. I think about how and why and what happened and the thoughts come easily, but the answers don't.

The suffering is in the mind. The mind. In the mind. Witness it. From your spiritual heart.

I don’t know if you’ve ever felt like that. That you wanted to sleep for a thousand years. Or just not exist. Or just not be aware that you do exist. Or something like that. I think wanting that is very morbid, but I want it when I get like this. That’s why I’m trying not to think. I just want it all to stop spinning.

Suffering has no strength to wound a weary body.

Depression is a disorder of mood, so mysteriously painful and elusive in the way it becomes known to the self -- to the mediating intellect-- as to verge close to being beyond description. It thus remains nearly incomprehensible to those who have not experienced it in its extreme mode.

Living, it's awful for me.

When I believed my thoughts I suffered.

Don't beat yourself. That's the worst kind of defeat you'll ever suffer.