Quotes About Agony

If it is worth the pain. If it is worth the anguish. Then leave me lying in agony.

Every heart needs a cutting part sharper than a blade to stab agony

How often is it the case that, when impossibilities have come to pass and dreams have condensed their misty substance into tangible realities, we find ourselves calm, and evenly coldly self-possessed, amid circumstances which it would have been a delirium of joy or agony to anticipate!

She perchance underwent an agony from every footstep of those that thronged to see her, as if her heart had been flung into the street for them all to spurn and trample upon.

It now writhed in convulsions of pain, and was a forcible type, in its little frame, of the moral agony which Hester Prynne had borne throughout the day.

This feeble and most sensitive of spirits could do neither, yet continually did one thing or another, which intertwined, in the same inextricable knot, the agony of heaven-defying guilt and vain repentance.

How often is it the case that, when impossibilities have come to pass and dreams have condensed their misty substance into tangible realities, we find ourselves calm, and even coldly self-possessed, amid circumstances which it would have been a delirium of joy or agony to anticipate! Fate delights to thwart us thus. Passion will choose his own time to rush upon the scene, and lingers sluggishly behind when an appropriate adjustment of events would seem to summon his appearance.

How often is it the case that, when impossibilities have come to pass and dreams have condensed their misty substance into tangible realities, we find ourselves calm, and even coldly self-possessed, amid circumstances which it would have been a delirium of joy or agony to anticipate!

You will suffer the greatest agony of all, Goddard told him after he was revived from their final bout. You will be gleaned in the presence of the Grandslayers, and you will disappear. You won't be a footnote in history, you will be erased from it. It will be as though you never lived. I can see how that would be a horrifying thought for you, Rowan told Goddard. But I don't have a burning need to make my existence the center of the universe. Disappearing is fine with me.

My heart is a palace pillaged by the herd; They kill and take each other by the throat!

To experience real agony is something hard to write about, impossible to understand while it grips you; you're frightened out of your wits, can't sit still, move, or even go decently insane.

we had such tremendous fun and much agony together for some years

My body gnaws at me from one side and my spirit gnaws at me from the other.

agony sometimes changes form but it never ceases for anybody.

one of Lorca's best lines is, "agony, always agony…" think of this when you kill a cockroach or pick up a razor to shave or awaken in the morning to face the sun.

you are good but you are too emotional the way to whip life is to quietly frame the agony,study it and put it to sleep in the abstract. is there anything less abstract than dying everyday and on the last day?

please have some cheer: agony sometimes changes form but it never ceases for anybody.

Then I heard a man scream from the next ward, Joe, where are you? Joe, you said you'd come back! Joe, where are you? The voice was loud and so sad, so agonized.(...) Joe wasn't coming. It didn't pay to trust another human being. Humans didn't have it, whatever it took.

The flies are angry bits of life; why are they so angry? it seems they want more, it seems almost as if they are angry that they are flies; it is not my fault; I sit in the room with them and they taunt me with their agony; it is as if they were loose chunks of soul left out of somewhere;

agony can kill or agony can sustain life but peace is always horrifying

I can hear cars on the freeway, it's like a distant sea sludged with people while over my other shoulder, far over on 7th street near Western is the hospital, that house of agony— sheets and bedpans and arms and heads and expirations; everything is so sweetly awful, so continuously and sweetly awful: the art of consummation: life eating life…

The doorbell rang like a rape, or the tearing of ripe flesh.

When the agony of all the people is heard, nothing will be done.

Guilt was—it was the agony of spirit that made every day bleak. The fear that you might not live up to the cost of your survival—that you might not, somehow, justify the whim of fate that let Death miss you and take so many around you.