A Quote by Charles Peguy
Suffering passes; having suffered never passes.
Related Quotes
Suffering passes, but the fact of having suffered never passes.
Spring passes and one remembers one's innocence. Summer passes and one remembers one's exuberance. Autumn passes and one remembers one's reverence. Winter passes and one remembers one's perseverance.
The scientific tradition is distinguished from the pre-scientific tradition by having two layers. Like the latter, it passes on its theories; but it also passes on a critical attitude towards them.
I have never thought that a Christian would be free of suffering, umfundisi. For our Lord suffered. And I come to believe that he suffered, not to save us from suffering, but to teach us how to bear suffering. For he knew that there is no life without suffering.
To me, attacking football happens when Makelele gets the ball and passes it to the central defender who passes it to the right-back who comes forward and judges the situation. If he can do something he passes forward or runs with the ball, if not he gives it back to Makelele who builds the attack again. That is attacking football. In England attacking football is giving the ball to Makelele and having him hit it forward no matter what, even if everybody is marked.
Intimacy is not trapped within words. It passes through words. It passes. The truth is that intimates leave the room. Doors close. Faces move away from the window. Time passes. Voices recede into the dark. Death finally quiets the voice. And there is no way to deny it. No way to stand in the crowd, uttering one's family language.
The pain others give passes away in their later kindness, but that of our own blunders, especially when they hurt our vanity, never passes away
Men don't make passes at crones with big (rhymes with passes).
What passes out of one's mouth passes into a hundred ears. It is a great misfortune not to have sense enough to speak well.
Love passes quickly, and passes like a street Arab, anxious to mark his way with mischief.
Life passes into pages if it passes into anything.
There must still be room for the falling note, of course. Even in an undying world there are times when beauty passes from sight, or love passes from the heart, and we feel the sorrow of partition.
When time passes, it's the people who knew you whom you want to see; they're the ones you can talk to. When enough time passes, what's it matter what they did to you?
Painters... are the most lively observers of what passes in the world about them, and the closest observers of what passes in their own minds.
We live in a time when people are afraid of beauty, because beauty passes; you can't hang on to it. And even if you see something or someone beautiful, the next time you hear it, it sounds different. So you can't cling to beauty; beauty passes and when that passes, you realize you pass too, and you will die. And that's why people cry at a beautiful view, a beautiful lecture, a beautiful painting, a new baby.
One of the most powerful devices of poetry is the use of distortions. You can go from talking about the way a minute passes to the way a century passes, or a lifetime.
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