There is something very morbid about modern sympathy with pain.
I hate feeling hate but feeling nothing feels worse.
Your pain is a school unto itself–– and your joy a lovely temple.
Good habits stockpile pleasure. Bad habits postpone pain.
And a rock feels no pain;And an island never cries.
We all know pain doesn’t exist without some coexisting depression.
I see enormous loves growing immense and finally crushing me.
It’s calm under the waves in the blue of my oblivion.
They sought the pain they knew so well and called it love.