Pain (n.) felt in sleep may become a desperate struggle with fierce dogs or savage bulls — the dream-ego entering into concrete relations with the symbols of its own state.
Pain (n.) can be handed off in a dream to the most indifferent person one can think of, leaving the dreamer free to enjoy the opera.
Pain (n.) is halfway between outside and inside: it behaves like an inner perception even when the outer world inflicts it, and it too can stay unconscious.
Pain (n.) withdraws love: so long as he suffers, the sick man ceases to love — "concentrated is his soul in his molar's narrow hole."
Pain (n.) breaks through every layer of education: the doctor waited at cards while the baroness cried out in French, then German, and went in only when she cried "Aa-ee!"
Pain (n.) is the actual reaction to loss of object, anxiety the reaction to the danger that loss entails.
Pain (n.) is not itself what the masochist enjoys but the sexual excitation that pain trenches upon.
Pain (n.) is an external stimulus turned into a pseudo-instinct — imperative, yielding only to drugs or distraction, with no pleasure to be gained by its ending but its ending.
Pain (n.) is no less real and no less violent when its cause is mental.
Pain (n.) sets off sexual excitement in infancy, as any intense inner process does, the root of pleasure in pain.