Quotes About Anguish

what can man do in hell, they sang; for song lingers where there is no longer any hope.

Quoi que je fasse, elle est toujours là, cette pensée infernale, comme un spectre de plomb à mes côtés, seule et jalouse, chassant toute distraction, face à face avec moi misérable, et me secouant de ses deux mains de glace quand je veux détourner la tête ou fermer les yeux.

Il dort. Quoique le sort fut pour lui bien etrange, Il vivait. Il mourut quand il n'eut plus son ange. La chose simplement d'elle-meme arriva, Comme la nuit se fait lorsque le jour s'en va.[71]

Happy, even in the midst of anguish, is he to whom God has given a soul worthy of love and of unhappiness! He who has not viewed the things of this world and the heart of man under this double light has seen nothing and knows nothing of the true.

I bear the dungeon within me; within me is winter, ice, despair; I have darkness in my soul.

Il dort. Quoique le sort fut pour lui bien étrange, Il vivait. Il mourut quand il n'eut plus son ange. La chose simplement d'elle-même arriva, Comme la nuit se fait lorsque le jour s'en va.

From his very first steps among men, he had felt himself, later on he had seen himself, spewed out, blasted, rejected. Human words were, for him, always a raillery or a malediction. As he grew up, he had found nothing but hatred around him. He had caught the general malevolence. He had picked up the weapon with which he had been wounded.

Never was keener anguish lavished upon a thing more charming or more delicate.

If she opened her mouth she might start screaming. Or if she looked at him she might cry, might demand to know how it was that children could be shot in the dark for nothing.

Her tears were slow in forming; it was as if each one were made of blood and too thick to pass through her tear ducts. Memories came at her like a kaleidoscope:

When he finally found the words to express himself, his grief had shown itself to be bottomless, terrifying.

smell of vomit and mold and decay. His lungs and nostrils ache. He can't breathe without gasping.

Such teeth in this pain. Gnawing at her, then spitting her out to breathe for a moment and then biting again.

It hurts so much to love you.

Don't talk to me, don't approach me, don't ask your ordinary, everyday questions when my world has exploded.

Kueller shook his head. "You don't hate Skywalker. You hate the way he makes you feel. You hate yourself, Brakiss. You hate what you've become.

Every time we look back on this moment when we signed this agreement which severed Singapore from Malaysia, it will be a moment of anguish. For me it is a moment of anguish because all my life … you see, the whole of my adult life … I have believed in Malaysia, merger and the unity of these two territories. You know, it's a people, connected by geography, economics and ties of kinship … Would you mind if we stop for a while?

I fear that I am losing my mind. But really, it would not be such a precious thing to lose, as it only causes me pain.

Morning Star log, Nov. 24. Ain't got nothing good to say. Seas still high. Black clouds out there and black clouds in my mind. To hell with this. To hell with everything.

Like a revolving door to hell.

When our hatred is too violent, it sinks us beneath those we hate.

Do you know the feeling, when your heart is so hurt, that you could feel the blood dripping?

For an instant, at least, they seemed one and the same, as though all anguish exists in the same deep well, no matter what loss or misfortune leads us to it. We might be at odds, hate each other, and desired each others destruction, but in our despair, we are lost in the same darkness, breathing the same air as we choke on our grief.

It was the only lullaby she would ever sing, and it was sung in Hell.