Pain (n.) from a sword tells us nothing of the sword's shape or motion; it is as unlike its cause as colour or taste.
Pain (n.) is the most internal thing there is, and yet amputees feel it in a leg they no longer have.
Pain (n.) is a sign, not a report: God could have made the same brain motion tell the mind something else entirely, but nothing would serve the body's preservation so well.
Pain (n.) is a trial of strength to the great soul — and the making trial of it is pleasant.
Pain (n.) is a sensation that people confuse with the passion of sadness, as they confuse titillation with joy and hunger with the desire to eat.
Pain (n.) is perceived with perfect clarity and almost never distinctly: we wrongly imagine something like the pain sitting in the injured limb.
Pain (n.) is no more in the foot than light is in the sun — both beliefs are prejudices left over from childhood.
Pain (n.) and sadness usually come together, yet one can sometimes suffer pains with joy, and find pleasures disagreeable.