There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.
The worst part of holding the memories is not the pain. It's the loneliness of it. Memories need to be shared.
It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.
Some old wounds never truly heal, and bleed again at the slightest word.
Imagine smiling after a slap in the face. Then think of doing it twenty-four hours a day.
One thing you can't hide - is when you're crippled inside.
Pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our consciences, but shouts in our pains. It is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world.
One word Frees us of all the weight and pain of life: That word is love.
I have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which I sometimes so madly indulge. It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom.
Tears shed for another person are not a sign of weakness. They are a sign of a pure heart.