Quotes About Anguish

heard his cry but it was like an imagined sound, for it was mingled with the pulse of his life, and it seemed the rain was red blood gushing upon me from the sky, covering my body and mixing with the mud beneath us and around us until we were drowning in a great, thick lake of blood. My mind was empty except for that one thought of red rain steadily falling and then, finally, even that thought grew dim and there was stillness all around me. I

The anguish pulled Karen's broken heart down, blurring through the years of her life to when she was young and took her little sister, Cassie, swimming at the Monarda River. She was supposed to watch over Cassie, but Karen was crazy about a boy and intent on playing a game with him, and it had ultimately led to Cassie's death.

She'd expected some backlash; it happened every time she shared her strength. But she hadn't anticipated so much raw anguish from Nico di Angelo… If this was only a portion of Nico's pain… how could he bear it?

Uuugggggghhhhh...

An indescribable oppression, which seemed to generate in some unfamiliar part of her consciousness, filled her whole being with a vague anguish. It was like a shadow, like a mist passing across her soul's summer day. It was strange and unfamiliar; it was a mood. She did not sit there inwardly upbraiding her husband, lamenting at Fate, which had directed her footsteps to the path which they had taken. She was just having a good cry all to herself.

She was moved by a kind of commiseration for Madame Ratignolle, -a pity for that colorless existence which never uplifted its possessor beyond the region of blind contentment, in which no moment of anguish ever visited her soul, in which she would never have the taste of life's delirium. Edna vaguely wondered what she meant by life's delirium. It had crossed her thought like some unsought, extraneous impression.

An indescribable oppression, which seemed to generate in some unfamiliar part of her consciousness, filled her whole being with a vague anguish. It was like a shadow, like a mist passing across her soul's summer day.

The thought of him was a smoky cloud from hell that moved and crept in her head.

Each way to suicide is its own: intensely private, unknowable, and terrible. Suicide will have seemed to its perpetrator the last and best of bad possibilities, and any attempt by the living to chart this final terrain of a life can be only a sketch, maddeningly incomplete.

Profound melancholia is a day-in, day-out, night-in, night-out, almost arterial level of agony.

They can try acupuncture, they can try ECT, they can try a frontal lobotomy, none of it will work. I am a hopeless case. I have lost my angel. I have lost my mind. The days are too long, too heavy; my bones are crushing under the weight of these days.

So identical were their pitiful whimpers, the way their screams gave way to desperate entreaties then returned to screams, that the notion came to me: this was what each of us would go through on our way to death, that these terrible noises were as universal as the crying of newborn babies.

Justice was done. Swithin was a murderer and a rapist who deserved to die. But I found that my conscience was not untroubled. I had lured him into an ambush. In a way the death of poor George Cox was my responsibility. I had meddled in things that should have been left to the law or, failing that, to God. I may yet go through anguish in hell for my sin. But if I had to live that time again I would do the same

Merthin stood and watched with tears pouring down his face.

Behold, a man in anguish bending Marked by pain and loss Yonder stony hill ascending Carrying a cross

They who have steeped their soul in prayer can every anguish calmly bear.

An anguished moan escaped from Karras as he bowed his head above the Host. He struck his breast as if it were time and murmured, "Domine, no sum dignus.... I am not worthy... say but the word and my soul shall be healed.

And dreamed about death in the staggering particular, death as if death were still never yet heard of while something was ringing, she gasping, dissolving, slipping off into void while thinking over and over, I am not going to be, I will die, I won't be, and forever and ever, oh, Papa, don't let them, oh, don't let them do it, don't let me be nothing forever and melting, unraveling, ringing, the ringing—

He felt a deep swelling of pride but also anguish. It was the torment all loving parents feel when they see their child making a difficult and perhaps dangerous decision as an adult when, in memory, they still see the small innocent child of years long gone.

How soon my sorrow hath destroyed my face

These words are razors to my wounded heart.

The sun's o'ercast with blood: fair day, adieu!Which is the side that I must go withal?I am with both: each army hath a hand;And in their rage, I having hold of both,They whirl asunder and dismember me.

Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am boundUpon a wheel of fire, that mine own tearsDo scald like molten lead.

Howl, howl, howl, howl! O! you are men of stones:Had I your tongues and eyes, I'd use them soThat heaven's vaults should crack. She's gone forever.