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A ghost would crawl up my leg and have sex with me at an apartment a long time ago in Texas. I used to think it was my boyfriend, and one day I woke up and it wasn’t. I was freaked out about it, but then I was, like, ‘Well, you know what? He’s never hurt me and he just gave me some amazing sex, so I have no problem.

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The only book that is worth writing is the one we don’t have the courage or strength to write. The book that hurts us (we who are writing), that makes us tremble, redden, bleed

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Anger is the most impotent of passions. It effects nothing it goes about, and hurts the one who is possessed by it more than the one against whom it is directed.

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I tried when I was 13, when my grandparents gave me an acoustic guitar, and I tried for a year. It hurt so much to play. I mean, the fingertips hurt so much, I gave up.

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I’m never trying to make a statement about morality ever. If there’s a statement to be made, it’s "People are complicated. They do things that may hurt other people, or exploit other people, but they may do them for the right reasons, or out of desperation." I don’t judge that sort of "bad" behavior. I’m only interested in a world where people break outside of the norm, and I believe people do whatever they have to do to relieve themselves of pain. I just want to watch and see how that plays out.

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Then she made up her mind.It was absurd to pretend that he did not exist.It no longer hurt her to see him. She opened the door wide and let him into her life again.

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I started running, and I hated it. Of course, everyone hates running for the first mile. If you’re running two miles or twenty miles, it always hurts. Now I live it. I look forward to it. It’s really good. It clears my head.

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When I’m lonely, frustrated or hurt it usually comes from a male person and from unrequited love. I often carry that pain around with me and my ribs actually start to ache. That’s when I sit down and write.

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While Bradshaw applauded McNabb for playing hurt, he offered this dose of reality for the Eagles If he doesn’t stay healthy, it’s over, … What are you going to do You roll the dice.

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Pain is one of life’s great lessons. You need to know how you’ll react to the negatives in your life. Only then will you learn from the pain, and the next time it happens, you can speed up your healing process.

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I just like to catch fish, I don’t care if it weighs half a pound or 10 pounds. But I can’t do a lot of casting. I can work a jig or a worm. But not for long, especially if the big ones are biting. Those big bass will make it hurt after a while.

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You can’t dodge them all. I got hammered plenty of times through the years. But you just get up and keep playing. I can tell you from experience, though. Sometimes it hurts like hell.

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I swallowed the fear. It’s always there– fear– and if you don’t stay on top of it, you’ll drown. I swallowed again and stood tall, shoulders broad, arms loose. I was balanced, ready to move. My body said, “Yeah, you’re bigger and stronger, but if you touch this, I will hurt you.

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I breathe in slowly. Food is life. I exhale, take another breath. Food is life. And that’s the problem. When you’re alive, people can hurt you. It’s easier to crawl into a bone cage or a snowdrift of confusion. It’s easier to lock everybody out. But it’s a lie.

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You hurt her by starving yourself, you hurt her with your lies, and by fighting everybody who tries to help you. Emma can only sleep a couple of hours a night now. She’s haunted by nightmares of monsters that eat our whole family. They eat us slowly, she says, so we can feel their sharp teeth.

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I open a paperclip and scratch it across the inside of my left wrist. Pitiful. If a suicide attempt is a cry for help, then what is this. A whimper, a peep? I draw little window cracks of blood, etching line after line until it stops hurting.

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I showed her how I’d been making tiny cuts in my skin to let the badness and the pain leak out. They were shallow at first, and short, like claw marks made by a desperate cat that wanted to hid under the front porch. Cutting pain was a different flavor of hurt. It made it easier not to think about having my body and my family and my life stolen, made it easier not to care.

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Tis not the wholesome sharp mortality,<br>Or modest anger of a satiric spirit,<br>That hurts or wounds the body of a state,<br>But the sinister application<br>Of the malicious, ignorant, and base<br>Interpreter; who will distort and strain<br>The general scope and purpose of an author<br>To his particular and private spleen.

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We didn’t intend to hurt each other, and we don’t have time to do so. Life is too short to blame others. It’s now the past. I hope that everybody will do well in the long run.

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I couldn’t joke about the person who’d saved me from facing absolute heartbreak at home, who fed my family boxes of sweets, who ran to me worried that i was hurt if I asked for him. A month ago, I had looked at the TV and seen a stiff, distant, boring person-someone I couldn’t imagine anyone loving. And while he wasn’t anything close to the person I did love, he was worthy of having someone to love in his life.

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It hurt me to be away from him. Some days I went crazy wondering what he was doing. And when I couldn’t handle it, I practiced music. I really had Aspen to thank for me being the musician that I was. He drove me to distraction. And that was bad.