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Pain is an event. It happens to you, and you deal with it in whatever way you can.

Some pain is simply the normal grief of human existence. That is pain that I try to make room for. I honor my grief.

Pain is real when you get other people to believe in it. If no one believes in it but you, your pain is madness or hysteria.

Pain can be vitalising; it gives intensity in the place of vagueness and emptiness. If we don't suffer, how do we know that we live?

There is a great deal of pain in life and perhaps the only pain that can be avoided is the pain that comes from trying to avoid pain.

I don't think any of us can speak frankly about pain until we are no longer enduring it.

Pain is love.

I hate pain, despite my ability to tolerate it beyond all known parameters, which is not necessarily a good thing.

We all know pain doesn't exist without some coexisting depression.

Suffering is a kind of ecstasy in a way. Having pain all the time makes me terribly, terribly grateful for every moment I've got.