When there is pain, there are no words. All pain is the same.

When there is pain, there are no words. All pain is the same.

And the wind that saddens, the sea that gladdens,
Are singing the selfsame strain.

And the wind that saddens, the sea that gladdens,
Are singing the selfsame strain.

The pain and hurt which i feel,
go as deep as it is real;
to be around and read more

The pain and hurt which i feel,
go as deep as it is real;
to be around and yet unseen,
takes the water out of the steam.

The mark of rank in nature is capacity for pain,
And the anguish of the singer marks the sweetness read more

The mark of rank in nature is capacity for pain,
And the anguish of the singer marks the sweetness of the strain.
- Sarah Williams ("Saidie"),

Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale.
from the poem
The Cotter’s Saturday Night.

Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale.
from the poem
The Cotter’s Saturday Night.

The scourge of life, and death's extreme disgrace,
The smoke of hell,--that monster called Paine.

The scourge of life, and death's extreme disgrace,
The smoke of hell,--that monster called Paine.

Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning;
One pain is less'ned by another's anguish;
Turn giddy, read more

Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning;
One pain is less'ned by another's anguish;
Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning;
One desperate grief cures with another's languish.

There is purpose in pain,
Otherwise it were devilish.

There is purpose in pain,
Otherwise it were devilish.

Nothing begins, and nothing ends, That is not paid with moan; For we are born in others pain And perish read more

Nothing begins, and nothing ends, That is not paid with moan; For we are born in others pain And perish in our own.