Pain (n.) is related to pleasure such that he who wants the greatest possible amount of the one must also have the greatest possible amount of the other.
Pain (n.) is tied together so tightly with pleasure that whoever might want to have as much as possible of one must also have as much as possible of the other.
Pain (n.) is a much more efficient means to show one's power than pleasure because pain always raises the question about its origin while pleasure is inclined to stop with itself without looking back.
Pain (n.) is rarely seen these days. Thus, it is now hated much more than was the case in former times. As a result, the misery of our present age is excessive sensitivity to misery, and, as such, the only cure is, ironically enough, more misery.
Pain (n.) is a disease of the cerebral centres—pleasure is no disease at all.
Pain (n.) is so far from acting as a diminution of our feeling of power, that it actually forms in the majority of cases a spur to this feeling—the obstacle is the stimulus of the will to power.
Pain (n.) the long, slow kind that burns us like green wood — does not make us better; it makes us more profound.
Pain (n.) reduced, takes joy down with it: whoever lowers the level of human pain also lowers the capacity for joy.
Pain (n.) is a more efficient instrument of power than pleasure, because pain always asks where it came from, while pleasure stops with itself.
Pain (n.) has as much wisdom as pleasure: that it hurts is not an argument against it but its essence — in pain I hear the captain's command, 'Take in the sails!'
Pain (n.) buried alive does not die; it merely has a good night's sleep in its burial shrouds.
Pain (n.) wants heirs and children, not itself — "I want children, I do not want myself"; but joy wants itself, wants eternity, wants everything eternally the same.
Pain (n.) psychological, is a fat word replacing a very thin question mark; when someone cannot get over it, the fault is more probably his belly's than his psyche's.
Pain (n.) is often something we first make so by investing it with an evaluation.
Pain (n.) has been robbed of innocence: every displeasure and misfortune falsified with the idea of guilt — the first of the great crimes in psychology.
Pain (n.) is an intellectual occurrence, a judgment — "harmful" — summarizing long experience; there is no pain as such, and against poisons our ancestors never met, pain bears no witness and we are lost.
Pain (n.) must never be able to make one bear false witness about life.
Pain (n.) only great pain, is the final liberator of the spirit; I doubt it makes us better, but I know it makes us deeper.
Pain (n.) has been robbed of its innocence: all unhappiness adulterated with wrong and guilt.