Anger is a wound gone mad.
Truth is too big a price to pay for the luxury of avoiding pain now and then.
The body knows no pain, not like the soul. At least a nerve has limits, a body part a name. But the soul... the soul... There is no bandage -- even crying is in vain.
He was acting on a reason other than the avoidance of pain. The sentiment was loyalty, and it felt glorious.
You never read about the real pain. It lives where no word can travel.