Quotes About Anguish

I, cruel to Marks ? I'm the one you should worry about. After a conversation with her, I usually walk away with my entrails dragging behind me.

His thought is both optimistic and anguished. It is anguished because he sees that we are sentenced by our freedom, imprisoned by it (since it makes us afraid); optimistic because Sartre believed that we are truly free and can indeed make free choices.

Çevremdeki bütün nesneler benimle ayn? maddeden, yani bir çeÅŸit sakil ac?dan yap?lm??t?.

Ni siquiera sufrí; me sentía vacío.

I dreamed vaguely of killing myself to wipe out at least one of these superfluous lives.

I'll endure anything, your red-hot tongs and molten lead, your racks and prongs and garrotes-- all your fiendish gadgets, everything that burns and flays and tears-- I'll put up with any torture you impose. Anything, anything would be better than this agony of mind, this creeping pain that gnaws and fumbles and caresses one and never hurts quite enough.

Pakao, to su drugi.

I am free. I haven't a single reason for living left.

Bu dert öyle belirsiz, öyle metafizik bir ÅŸey ki, utan?yorum doÄŸrusu.

I am free: there is absolutely no more reason for living, all the ones I have tried have given way and I can't imagine any more of them.

A stranger to the needs, hopes, and pleasures of the species, I squandered myself coldly in order to charm it. It was my audience; I was separated, from it by footlights that forced me into a proud exile which quickly turned to anguish.

L'angoisse commence pour un homme et le délaissement et les sueurs de sang, quand il ne peut plus avoir d'autre témoin que lui-même.

What a terrible thing life can be.

And then, maybe oddest of all, she leaned back slightly from our embrace and said, "You didn't forget that this weekend is the big summer camping trip? With Cody and the Cub Scouts?" I hadn't actually forgotten—but I also hadn't remembered it in the context of playing out a dramatic scene of domestic anguish, and I had to pause for just a second to catch up with her. "No," I said at last. "I didn't forget.

The pain, you know. It's one hell of a way to die.

SHE ONLY stopped screaming when she died. It was then that he started to scream. The

Their hearts were wrung with anguish, the anguish of having children, a vulnerability as astonishing as the capacity for love that parenthood brings ... [426]

I don't want to ruin your life, Leonard said in a gentler tone. You're not ruining it. The drugs just slow the process down. But the end's inevitable. The question is, how to turn this thing off? He jabbed at his head with his index finger. It's cutting me up, and I can't turn it off. Madeleine, listen to me. Listen. I'm not going to get better.

hearts wrung with anguish, the anguish of having children, a vulnerability as astonishing as the capacity for love that parenthood brings.

anguished grieving. To Elizabeth Mrs. Lincoln

For the first time his mind grasped the fact that when life has sentenced you to suffer, the sentence is neither a fancy nor a threat, but you are dragged to the rack, and you are tortured, and there is no marvelous rescue at the last moment, no awakening as from a bad dream. He felt it as a foreboding which struck him with terror.

O inglês típico, sabemos pelo velho cronista Froissart, aprecia seus prazeres com angústia; já a mulher inglesa vai um passo além: é na própria angústia que busca o prazer.

They shoot them." For a long time Dorothy Gruzik did not move. It looked as if she were waiting for rain to fall into her mouth. When she finally turned her eyes back to Palmer, he wished he wasn't there. "What?" she said. "They shoot them," he repeated, and the words were dusty and bitter on his tongue. There seemed only one way to get rid of the bad taste, and that was to flush out his mouth with more and more words.

I'm so dopesick, my tears taste like urine. It's as if the air itself were made of broken glass. I try to stop twitching. To stay still, to stop my very breath, let the pain stay inside. The slightest movement grinds tiny shards into my pores. Breathing is like gulping from a bag of claws. I want to die. Want to pass out. Want to stop...this...fucking...feeling.