Pain is no evil unless it conquers us.

No anguish I have had to bear on your account has been too heavy a price to pay for the new life into which I have entered in loving you.

Pride helps us; and pride is not a bad thing when it only urges us to hide our own hurts—not to hurt others.

For pain must enter into its glorified life of memory before it can turn into compassion.

Death is the king of this world: 'Tis his park where he breeds life to feed him. Cries of pain are music for his banquet.

Much benevolence of the passive order may be traced to a disinclination to inflict pain upon oneself.