What is deservedly suffered must be borne with calmness, but when
the pain is unmerited, the grief is resistless.
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What is deservedly suffered must be borne with calmness, but when
the pain is unmerited, the grief is resistless.
[Lat., Leniter ex merito quidquid patiare ferendum est,
Quae venit indigne poena dolenda venit.]

The heart was made to be broken

The heart was made to be broken

To love is to suffer. To avoid suffering, one must not love. But then, one suffers from not loving. Therefore, read more

To love is to suffer. To avoid suffering, one must not love. But then, one suffers from not loving. Therefore, to love is to suffer; not to love is to suffer; to suffer is to suffer. To be happy is to love. To be happy, then, is to suffer, but suffering makes one unhappy. Therefore, to be happy, one must love or love to suffer or suffer from too much happiness.

And taste
The melancholy joys of evils pass'd,
For he who much has suffer'd, much will know.

And taste
The melancholy joys of evils pass'd,
For he who much has suffer'd, much will know.

It is not true that suffering ennobles the character; happiness does that sometimes, but suffering for the most part, makes read more

It is not true that suffering ennobles the character; happiness does that sometimes, but suffering for the most part, makes men petty and vindictive.

Suffering becomes beautiful when anyone bears great calamities with cheerfulness, not through insensibility but through greatness of mind.

Suffering becomes beautiful when anyone bears great calamities with cheerfulness, not through insensibility but through greatness of mind.

To become a spectator of one's own life is to escape the suffering of life.

To become a spectator of one's own life is to escape the suffering of life.

To live is to suffer, to survive is to find some meaning in the suffering.

To live is to suffer, to survive is to find some meaning in the suffering.

To each his suff'rings; all are men,
Condemn'd alike to groan;
The tender for another's pain,
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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.