Suffering (n.) that comes from within can be ended only by the sufferer — for she is free.
Suffering (n.) escapes knowledge to the extent that it is suffered — and to the degree that knowledge is powerless to transform it.
Suffering (n.) can be hoarded like money: Lucie suffers as a miser, unable either to console herself or to abandon herself to it.
Suffering (n.) becomes a motive only when revolution appears possible; we organize a situation into causes by fleeing it toward our power to change it.
Suffering (n.) is the very being of human reality: perpetually haunted by a totality it is without being able to be it.
Suffering (n.) at its height does not come from the sufferer: it comes from outside, from the boulevard, and in pink, lit streets one cannot suffer so acutely.
Suffering (n.) can be envied: Lucie, transfigured, suffering with a frenzied generosity, arms out as if awaiting the stigmata — I envy her.
Suffering (n.) in music is exemplary — four saxophone notes saying 'suffer in rhythm,' without complacence or self-pity, with an arid purity — while mine drags with too much flesh, like a sea-elephant.