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Much of your pain is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.

Being ill like this combines shock - this time I will die - with a pain and agony that are unfamiliar, that wrench me out of myself.

The moment an ill can be patiently handled, it is disarmed of its poison, though not of its pain.

My illness is excruciating and difficult to cope with. It takes over your entire life and causes more suffering than I can describe.

I can take more pain than anyone.

Of all ills that one endures, hope is a cheap and universal cure.

All this pain is going to come back and make me stronger.

I was hurting. I had some ailments I was dealing with. It's not like I was holding out.

The remedy is worse than the disease.

I am in very good health. I've never felt better.