Quotes About Anguish

Io ti maledico a morire lentamente, tormentato dalla tua anima miserabile!" I curse you to a

Sometimes...you can cry until there's nothing wet in you. You can scream and curse to where your throat rebels and ruptures. You can pray, all you want, to whatever god you think will listen. And, still it makes no difference. It goes on, with no sign as to when it might release you. And you know that if it ever did relent...it would not be because it cared.

his father lying on the bare floor in anguish. The King evidently had been struck down with some great sorrow. His face

I felt, by turns, numb, hot with a monstrous embarrassment, and sick as though I'd eaten splinters of glass and was slowly shredding inside.

C'est bien la pire peines De ne savoir pourquoi Sans amour et sans haine Mon coeur a tant de peine !

Hell is empty. The demons are everywhere apparent.

And Pham drowned in an old, old rage, remembering….

I could never hurt him enough to make his betrayal stop hurting. And it hurts, in every part of my body.

Everyone and everything oppresses me, chokes and maddens me; I am troubled by a crushing physical sense of other people's lack of comprehension.

Is that my ears ringing, or am I screaming? I am burning and I am blind and I can't find the stairs and I do not know how to get out of Madham.

Some time later, I sat in the wine cellar, staring at the walls while cradling a wineskin in my lap like a child, murmuring over and over as if lulling the child to sleep, 'I am shat upon. I am shat upon'.

Rouged green lips part like a gangrened wound.

He was, perhaps like [the depressive] Dino Watters, addicted to gloom. She felt sorry for him if that were so. It was a terrible malady to have. Far worse than the several others.

arrows flew down like rain, straight rods of rain tipped with death.

Men we have never met took our son. They took him without our express permission. They tortured him then they … killed him. And there is no understanding it. There is no meaning. No coming to terms with it. Not now. Not tomorrow. Not ever. We will wake up every day for the rest of our lives and we will breathe razor blades and we will swim through bleach. And there is no escape from this. There is no comfort. There is just … blades and bleach. Until we die.

We are immoderate because grief is immoderate, all the hundreds and thousands of kinds of grief.

Exhibitionismul inerent unei marturisiri nu face decat sa agraveze suferinta.

War. Such a little word, such a depth of agony. Blood, death, conquest, starvation, plague, and horror.

abyss , n . There are times when I doubt everything. When I regret everything you've taken from me, everything I've given you, and the waste of all the time I've spent on us.

you'd think that silence would be peaceful. but really, it's painful.

He doesn't just look upset—he looks newly blind. There is such loss in his eyes, and it permeates every other part of his body.

I cannot think of a single word to describe what we feel. I think we all feel it, to varying degrees. Perhaps in some other language there is a word for 'the world is terribly wrong.' That feeling of stun and unbelief and abandonment and shock and horror and distress.

It was too heartbreaking to live with so many separations.

I think we all feel it, to varying degrees. Perhaps in some other language there is a word for the world is terribly wrong. That feeling of stun and unbelief and abandonment and shock and horror and distress.