Quotes
Quotes about Pain
There is a land of pure delight,
Where saints immortal reign;
Infinite day excludes the night,
And pleasures banish pain.
So, when a raging fever burns,
We shift from side to side by turns;
And 't is a poor relief we gain
To change the place, but keep the pain.
A man of pleasure is a man of pains.
To frown at pleasure, and to smile in pain.
Tender-handed stroke a nettle,
And it stings you for your pains;
Grasp it like a man of mettle,
And it soft as silk remains.
'T is the same with common natures:
Use 'em kindly, they rebel;
But be rough as nutmeg-graters,
And the rogues obey you well.
Die of a rose in aromatic pain.
Whether the charmer sinner it or saint it,
If folly grow romantic, I must paint it.
Virtue she finds too painful an endeavour,
Content to dwell in decencies forever.
While pensive poets painful vigils keep,
Sleepless themselves to give their readers sleep.
Stretch'd on the rack of a too easy chair,
And heard thy everlasting yawn confess
The pains and penalties of idleness.
He best can paint them who shall feel them most.
For fate has wove the thread of life with pain,
And twins ev'n from the birth are misery and man!
For too much rest itself becomes a pain.
Of joys departed,
Not to return, how painful the remembrance!
But who can paint
Like Nature? Can imagination boast,
Amid its gay creation, hues like hers?
Then with no throbs of fiery pain,
No cold gradations of decay,
Death broke at once the vital chain,
And freed his soul the nearest way.
Sherry is dull, naturally dull; but it must have taken him a great deal of pains to become what we now see him. Such an access of stupidity, sir, is not in Nature.
Alas! by some degree of woe
We every bliss must gain;
The heart can ne'er a transport know
That never feels a pain.
Labour for his pains.
Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade!
Ah, fields beloved in vain!
Where once my careless childhood stray'd,
A stranger yet to pain!
I feel the gales that from ye blow
A momentary bliss bestow.
To each his suff'rings; all are men,
Condemn'd alike to groan,--
The tender for another's pain,
Th' unfeeling for his own.
Yet ah! why should they know their fate,
Since sorrow never comes too late,
And happiness too swiftly flies?
Thought would destroy their paradise.
No more; where ignorance is bliss,
'T is folly to be wise.
The applause of list'ning senates to command,
The threats of pain and ruin to despise,
To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,
And read their history in a nation's eyes.
Seeks painted trifles and fantastic toys,
And eagerly pursues imaginary joys.
Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see,
My heart untravell'd fondly turns to thee;
Still to my brother turns with ceaseless pain,
And drags at each remove a lengthening chain.
A flattering painter, who made it his care
To draw men as they ought to be, not as they are.
