Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale.
from the poem
The Cotter’s Saturday Night.

Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale.
from the poem
The Cotter’s Saturday Night.

There is no real evil in life, except great pain; all the rest is imaginary, and depends on the light read more

There is no real evil in life, except great pain; all the rest is imaginary, and depends on the light in which we view things.

Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it.

Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it.

The mark of rank in nature is capacity for pain,
And the anguish of the singer marks the sweetness read more

The mark of rank in nature is capacity for pain,
And the anguish of the singer marks the sweetness of the strain.
- Sarah Williams ("Saidie"),

They can't hurt you unless you let them.

They can't hurt you unless you let them.

And the wind that saddens, the sea that gladdens,
Are singing the selfsame strain.

And the wind that saddens, the sea that gladdens,
Are singing the selfsame strain.

Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning;
One pain is less'ned by another's anguish;
Turn giddy, read more

Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning;
One pain is less'ned by another's anguish;
Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning;
One desperate grief cures with another's languish.

A man of pleasure is a man of pains.

A man of pleasure is a man of pains.

It's odd that you can get so anesthetized by your own pain or your own problem that you don't quite read more

It's odd that you can get so anesthetized by your own pain or your own problem that you don't quite fully share the hell of someone close to you.