“I have learned now that while those who speak about one’s miseries usually hurt, those who keep silence hurt more.”

You told me everything would be okay. I wish you had said – you’ll hurt but I’ll hold you.

I hope you know you are not alone. In this dismal world full of pain and hurt, you are not alone. This is the simple truth.

Art hurts. Art urges voyages – and it is easier to stay at home.

And I’ve been hurt hurt bad. I might be just twenty-six, but I’m an old woman in disguise twenty-six goin’on sixty-five.

I don’t have nothing to regret at all in the past, except that I might’ve unintentionally hurt somebody else or something.

A hurtful act is the transference to others of the degradation which we bear in ourselves.

The work that hurts you less than it hurts others is the work you were made to do.

Anger is a poison. It eats us inside. We think when we hate someone we hurt them, but hatred is a curved blade, and the harm we do to others we also do to ourselves.