Private Pain Quotes

Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody.

Sometimes, when a person is truly lost in this world, suffocating inside her private bubble where all she can hear is her own droning heartbeat, a touch can be enough.

Who do I belong to? How come I mortgaged my being till I don't belong to myself? How come I sold my blood? And who now owns my indecisions, my hands, my private pain, my pride?

We all have these places where shy humiliations gambol on sunny afternoons.

We fear violence less than our own feelings. Personal, private, solitary pain is more terrifying than what anyone else can inflict.

I think I probably would have enjoyed to keep my own private pain out of my work. But I was changed by my audience who said your private pain which you have unwittingly shown us in your early songs is also ours.

I hadn't even dreamed of getting another Academy Award, and there I was unhappy in my private life and miserable, I remember Odets drove me three times around the Biltmore, where the Oscars were given out, because I was so full of tears.

While this has been a private part of my family's life, it is now clear a media story will soon emerge. My father tragically ended his life while battling terminal cancer in 1979.

Only the wearer knows where the shoe pinches.

I don't want my past to become anyone else's future.

but he only found her in the image that saturated his private and terrible solitude.

I've spent the last year and a half going through a very public separation, hiding in hotel lobbies.

A Roman divorced from his wife, being highly blamed by his friends, who demanded, "Was she not chaste? Was she not fair? Was she not fruitful?" holding out his shoe, asked them whether it was not new and well made. "Yet," added he, "none of you can tell where it pinches me.''

I would walk into my office, and I would close the door, and I would say, 'I won't cry, I won't cry, I won't cry'... At least, I wasn't going to let them see me cry.

You never know what is going on in someone's head when they you think they are leading the perfect life.

Don't invite me to a surprise birthday party. I don't have room for that secret. I've got enough real secrets I have to keep: dark, life-destroying secrets.

Everybody's got some things that have happened bad in their past. Mine was just very public.

In order to weep, I had descended to the realm of the dead themselves, to their secret chambers, led by the invisible but soft hands of birds down stairways which were folded up again as I advanced. I displayed my grief in the friendly fields of death, far from men: within myself.

We tell our triumphs to the crowds, but our own hearts are the sole confidants of our sorrows.

God's signs are not always the ones we look for. We learn in tragedy that his purposes are not always our own. Yet the prayers of private suffering, whether in our homes or in this great cathedral, are known and heard, and understood.

There are confessable agonies, sufferings of which one can positively be proud. Of bereavement, of parting, of the sense of sin and the fear of death the poets have eloquently spoken. They command the world's sympathy. But there are also discreditable anguishes, no less excruciating than the others, but of which the sufferer dare not, cannot speak. The anguish of thwarted desire, for example.

When your best friend dies, and you're crying on the balcony, and TMZ is taking pictures of somebody comforting you saying, 'Ooooo, scandalous' - that's the worst part of fame.

Much of the work of every life is done in the dark.

My individual, psychological descent coincided, ironically, with my ascent into the public eye.

Secret griefs are more cruel than public calamities.