Quotes About Torment

Tavi spent an eternity in misery, longing for death to bring sweet release from the unrelenting torment. The others gathered at the side of his bunk on the ship, keeping a deathwatch over him. I don't see what all the drama is about, Demos said, his quiet voice filled with habitual disinterst. He's seasick. It will pass.~Captain's Fury

The Winter inside me was torment and agony—but at least when I was immersed in it, I couldn't feel.

Bob stared at me for a second and said, 'I have nightmares about Hell, where all I do is add up numbers and try to have conversations with people like you.

Even the damned can dream - infact, it's part of their torment. To escape, even for a second or two, to forget reality and drift, only to be yanked back into the waking world like a fish caught on a line... Yes. In some ways that's even worse than to have no relief at all. That second of two, on awakening, when anything still seems possible

No one will ever go to Hell who has put his trust in Jesus Christ, but many will end up in torment who have trusted their own righteousness and reformation.

Jill was young and untried, but she knew the fundamental truth about women—that love can torment them even as it gives them the moon and the stars to play with.

But the queen--too long she has suffered the pain of love, hour by hour nursing the wound with her lifeblood, consumed by the fire buried in her heart. [...] His looks, his words, they pierce her heart and cling-- no peace, no rest for her body, love will give her none.

I have no mouth. And I must scream.

The divine process of change manifests itself to our human understanding . . . as punishment, torment, death, and transfiguration.

There is nothing frightening about an eternal dreamless sleep. Surely it is better than eternal torment in Hell and eternal boredom in Heaven.

O wretched state! o bosom black as death!

Let me be boiled to death with melancholy.

It's a thing of violence, to whom death would be a merciful release.

I have not slept for nights. I have not eaten for days. I am a soul in torment. Tell me if you think that she loves me, if you think that she might love me. Tell me, for pity's sake.

You hoard your pain because the more you suffer, the more the world becomes an outrage. You weep because weeping has become evidence. 'See what you've done to me!' you cry. And you hold court night after night, condemning the circumstances that have condemned you by reliving your anguish. You torment yourself, Leweth, in order to hold the world accountable for your torment.

You never understand how vulnerable you are in this age of social media until something breaks against you, and then . . . then it's too late. You can shut down Facebook, Twitter, Instagram; you can change your phone number and your e-mail. Move to new places. But for dedicated tormentors, that isn't a barrier.

You never understand how vulnerable you are in this age of social media until something breaks against you, and then . . . then it's too late. You can shut down Facebook, Twitter, Instagram; you can change your phone number and your e-mail. Move to new places. But for dedicated tormentors, that isn't a barrier. It's a challenge.

I suspected eccentricity was often if not always a response to pain, a defense mechanism against anguish and torment and sorrow.

We in Purgatory sing fondly of Hell.

Hell was full of clocks, he was sure of it. There was no torment, after all, that could not be exacerbated by a contemplation of time passing. The large case clock at the end of the corridor had a particularly penetrating tick-tock, audiable above and through all the noises of the house. It seemed to Lord John Grey to echo his own heartbeats, each one a step on the road towards death.

I already know there will be happiness. For even there, next to the chimneys, in the intervals between the torments, there was something that resembled happiness. Everyone asks only about the hardships and the "atrocities," whereas for me perhaps it is that experience which will remain the most memorable. Yes, the next time I am asked, I ought to speak about that, the happiness of the concentration camps.

Faith is a torment, did you know that? It is like loving someone who is out there in the darkness but never appears, no matter how loudly you call.

The question about the end bursts out of the torment of history and the intolerableness of historical existence.

Heaven for climate, Hell for company.