Pain (n.) this underside of skin, is a nudity more naked than all destitution.
Pain (n.) is a pure deficit, an increase of debt in a subject that cannot "make both ends meet."
Pain (n.) is the spirit's rebellion locked inside what it rebels against — and this despair is its very foundation.
Pain (n.) is contradiction as sensation: the ache of pain — woe.
Pain (n.) is said to be the mother of wisdom — in a tradition where only the limitation of freedom is scandalous, never its spontaneity.
Pain (n.) cannot be redeemed: as humanity's happiness does not justify the individual, future retribution does not wipe away present pain.
Pain (n.) is not a symptom of a frustrated will; the pain of labor and ageing is adversity itself, the against-oneself that is in the self.
Pain (n.) is ambiguous: the for-the-other turns into by-the-other — a thorn burning the flesh, but for nothing; only so is it kept from being for-oneself.
Pain (n.) of the physical kind can reveal an absolute position: is it not the indivisible simplicity of his being that the sick man feels as he turns in his bed looking for a position that gives him peace?