1 I suffered, too, gentlemen, I assure you.
2 Why, suffering is the sole origin of consciousness.
3 I hold no brief for suffering nor for well-being either.
4 Many sins should be forgiven me for what I suffered from him.
5 You may, perhaps, have really suffered, but you have no respect for your own suffering.
6 You may, perhaps, have really suffered, but you have no respect for your own suffering.
7 And the woman knows herself it's wrong, and her heart fails her and she suffers, but she loves--it's all through love.
8 The enjoyment of the sufferer finds expression in those moans; if he did not feel enjoyment in them he would not moan.
9 To blame, finally, because even if I had had magnanimity, I should only have had more suffering from the sense of its uselessness.
10 In the depth of my heart there was no faith in my suffering, only a faint stir of mockery, but yet I did suffer, and in the real, orthodox way; I was jealous, beside myself.
11 In the depth of my heart there was no faith in my suffering, only a faint stir of mockery, but yet I did suffer, and in the real, orthodox way; I was jealous, beside myself.
12 I was, of course, myself the chief sufferer, because I was fully conscious of the disgusting meanness of my spiteful stupidity, and yet at the same time I could not restrain myself.
13 That sauce was made up of contradictions and sufferings, of agonising inward analysis, and all these pangs and pin-pricks gave a certain piquancy, even a significance to my dissipation--in fact, completely answered the purpose of an appetising sauce.
14 Those moans express in the first place all the aimlessness of your pain, which is so humiliating to your consciousness; the whole legal system of nature on which you spit disdainfully, of course, but from which you suffer all the same while she does not.
15 Maybe it will begin to revenge itself, too, but, as it were, piecemeal, in trivial ways, from behind the stove, incognito, without believing either in its own right to vengeance, or in the success of its revenge, knowing that from all its efforts at revenge it will suffer a hundred times more than he on whom it revenges itself, while he, I daresay, will not even scratch himself.