Quotes About Agony

If I could bleed, or sleep! If my mouth could marry a hurt like that!

After the torchlight red on sweaty faces After the frosty silence in the gardens After the agony in stony places The crying and the shouting Prison and place and reverberation Of thunder of spring over distant mountains He was living is now dead We who were living are now dying With a little patience

What profession is more trying than that of author? After you finish a piece of work it only seems good to you for a few weeks; or if it seems good at all you are convinced that it is the last you will be able to write; and if it seems bad you wonder whether everything you have done isn't poor stuff really; and it is one kind of agony while you are writing, and another kind when you aren't.

For our own past is covered by the currents of action, But the torment of others remains an experience Unqualified, unworn by subsequent attrition. People change, and smile: but the agony abides.

Who then devised the torment? Love.

but set down/This set down/This: were we led all that way for/ Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,/We had evidence and no doubt./I had seen birth and death,/But had thought they were different; this Birth was/Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.

Scummer, pox and wound rot! roared Tunstall, slamming his fist down on the bed. Gods cursed the pig-tarsed mammering craven currish beef-witted bum-licking gut-griping louts that did this to me! May every flea, leech and hookworm in all creation find and feast upon them!

He felt as if his flesh had been neatly filleted and packed with salt, each organ stuffed with burning coals, his bones drilled open and filled with molten lead.

Wadsworth Moor Where the millstone of sky Grinds light and shadow so purple-fine And has ground it so long Grinding the skin off the earth Earth bleeds her raw true darkness A land naked now as a wound That the sun swabs and dabs Where the miles of agony are numbness And harebell and heather a euphoria

Neither of us uttered a word about what happened. We never do. But I can't smudge it from my mind. The farm boys' sneering red faces. The runt shaking the fence. The brown lump of spit tobacco. The anguish in David's eyes. They don't know the first thing about us; they just hate us because we're black

To exhaustion and beyond they prayed, to that glittering place where the flesh dies and is born again, where all is agony, and finally, just as La Inca was feeling her spirit begin to loose itself from its earthly pinions, just as the circle began to dissolve--

A good death, everyone agreed, to die at home in bed as Prudence Jaxon had. But Peter had been at her side through the final hours and knew how terrible it had been for her, how much she'd suffered. No, there was no such thing as a good death.

Ardeat ipsa licet, tormentia gaudet amantis. (Though she may herself burn, she delights in her lover's torment.)

we had allowed our eyes to meet only once- by accident as much as out of necessity- and not ten seconds had passed before the agony had become too great to bear and we had retreated into silence and coldness once more.

Isaac the Syrian warns us that God's wrath visits all who refuse the bitter cross of agony, the cross of active suffering, and who, striving after visions and special graces of prayer, waywardly seek to appropriate the glories of the Cross. He also says, "God's grace comes of itself, suddenly, without our seeing it approach. It comes when the place is clean." Therefore, carefully, diligently, constantly clean the place; sweep it with the broom of humility.

Gone was the slightest implication of compassion if it had ever existed before. "I have seen young boys burned alive," he said. "I have seen Iranian and Iraqi boys tearing each other literally with their nails and teeth. It is raging hate against raging hate.

Sí, sí, el depósito de su virilidad, el origen de su fuerza, se encontraba mellado, exhausto, agónico, perdido y absolutamente sordo y desmotivado....

Today, I demand that a film express either the joy of making cinema or the agony of making cinema . I am not at all interested in anything in between; I am not interested in all those films that do not pulse.

The primitive ideals of centralization are now largely self-defeating. Human crucifixion by vertically on the now static checkerboard of the old city is pattern already in agony; yet for lack of any organic planing it is going on and on--not living, but rather hanging by its eyebrows from its nervous system.

This should be agony. I should be a mass of aching muscle - broken, spent, unable to move. And, were I an older man, I surely would ... ... but I'm a man of thirty - of twenty again. The rain on my chest is a baptism - I'm born again ...

I have seen war. I have seen war on land and sea. I have seen blood running from the wounded. I have seen men coughing out their gassed lungs. I have seen the dead in the mud. I have seen cities destroyed. I have seen 200 limping, exhausted men come out of line—the survivors of a regiment of 1,000 that went forward 48 hours before. I have seen children starving. I have seen the agony of mothers and wives. I hate war.

The pendulum he really faced was that of choice. His mind could swing one way, tick, and meet in foresight the shame of swallowed truth and swallowed pride, all the humiliation of an enforced recanting. And if he swung his thoughts the other way, tock, there they confronted the breaking agony of the boot or the rack or the slower destruction in a buried cell.

Undoubtedly, he suffered on the Cross, but icons don't depict him in agony. They show him as our rescuer, the great hero of our salvation story.

Excruciating agony makes me cranky.