Quotes About Anguish

A volte penso che in tempi di profonda angoscia sia una consolazione sapere che il mondo, tutto sommato, se ne infischia.

There was a sentence in your letter that struck me, "I wish I were far away from everything, I am the cause of all, and bring only sorrow to everybody, I alone have brought all this misery on myself and others." These words struck me because that same feeling, just the same, not more nor less, is also on my conscience.

I am so angry with myself because I cannot do what I should like to do, and at such a moment one feels as if one were lying bound hand and foot at the bottom of a deep dark well, utterly helpless.

My case is not unique: I am afraid of dying and distressed at being in the world.

Each of us bears his own Hell.

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.

What hurts the soul My soul adores

I have no mouth. And I must scream.

the heaviest anguish often precedes a return tide of joy and courage.

I just never really thought there could be something worse than death.

What if this were Hell, this absence of sleep, this poet's desert, this pain of living, this dying of not dying, this anguish of shadows, this passion over death and light.

To say there had been a loss was ludicrous; one lost a shoe or a set of keys. You did not suffer the death of a child and say there was a loss. There was a catastrophe. A devastation. A hell.

Kill me, or you are a murderer.

Officially there are no fates worse than death. Unofficially, there is a profusion of such fates. For some people, just living with the thought that they will die is a fate worse than death itself.

Death anxiety is the mother of all religions, which, in one way or another, attempt to temper the anguish of our finitude.

I am stigmatized by a living death in which real death holds no terrors for me.

Put a gun to my head and paint the wall with my brains.

O wretched state! o bosom black as death!

The thorn of death falls from heaven, and its myriad forms leave us no room to move.

I would fain die a dry death.

There is a place on earth that is a vast desolate wilderness, a place populated by shadows of the dead in their multitudes, a place where the living are dead, where only death, hate and pain exist.

Let me be boiled to death with melancholy.

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

Un osado mensaje que encontramos en el libro de Job es que a Dios se le puede decir lo que se desee. Arroje ante él su angustia, su ira, sus dudas, su amargura, su dolor por sentirse traicionado, su desilusión.