Imaginary pains are by far the most real we suffer, since we feel a constant need for them and invent them because there is no way of doing without them.
Every word affords me pain. Yet how sweet it would be if I could hear what the flowers have to say about death!
The limit of every pain is an even greater pain.
Everything turns on pain; the rest is accessory, even nonexistent, for we remember only what hurts. Painful sensations being the only real ones, it is virtually useless to experience others.