Pain is knowledge rushing in to fill a void with great speed

Man is a pupil, pain is his teacher.

Pain is a gift from the gods.

Life is pain

How strange to think that great pain may be impermanent. Something in us all seems to want to carve it in granite, as if only this would do full honor to its terrible significance. But even pain is blessed with impermanence...
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Pain is a treasure, for it contains mercies.

Pain unlocks a secret doorway in the mind, one that leads to both peak performance, and beautiful silence.

Pain is a symphony - a complex response that includes not just a distinct sensation but also motor activity, a change in emotion, a focusing of attention, a brand-new memory.

Pain is truth; all else is subject to doubt.

Pain has an element of blank;
It cannot recollect
When it began, or if there were
A day when it was not.

It has no future but itself,
Its infinite realms contain
Its past, enlightened to perceive
New periods of pain.

Is pain a promise? I was schooled in pain, And found out all I could of all desire;

Pain too is just a scary mask: look under it and you will see. The body sometimes suffers, but relief is never far behind.

​
Only pain is intellectual, only evil interesting. This is the treason of the artist: the refusal to admit the banality of evil and the terrible boredom of pain. If you can lick them, join them. If it hurts, repeat it. But to praise despair is to condemn delight, to embrace violence is to loose hold of everything else.

Pain is pain. It needs no description.