Quotes About Anguish

Look at it! It's ginger! I shall have to hide until it's grown out! Despair! Anguish! Horror!

Me encuentro mal, como si tuviera un gran peso en el pecho. - Un corazón es una pesada carga.

It's like having a head full of holes, in which the perfect repository of words have shamed themselves, he lamented.

But, without meaning to exactly, one still tends to conjure up scary scenarios, their pathos or salvation, as if one could endure a trauma before it occurred, in small manageable doses, as a sort of inoculation. Are there homeopathic degrees of anguish?

I can't breathe, she said. I feel like I'm drowning in a gray sea, like they're flooding the whole city, washing away our past and people, dashing everything from the face of the earth. Jammed

it referred to intense mental suffering, deep remorse, extreme anguish, acute sorrow and the like.

Oh my God. This is terrible. This is the end of my presidency. I'm fucked.

The problem in Venezuela is not that socialism has been poorly implemented, but that socialism has been faithfully implemented. From the Soviet Union to Cuba to Venezuela, wherever true socialism or communism has been adopted, it has delivered anguish and devastation and failure. Those who preach the tenets of these discredited ideologies only contribute to the continued suffering of the people who live under these cruel systems.

The thought of her gave me such a continual anguish that I could no more forget her than an aching tooth. It was involuntary, hopeless, compulsive. For years she had been the first thing I remembered when I woke up, the last thing that drifted through my mind as I went to sleep, and during the day she came to me obtrusively, obsessively, always with a painful shock.

It was like waking from a nightmare to a worse nightmare.

The world and everything in it was intolerably and permanently fucked and nothing had ever been good or okay, unbearable claustrophobia of the soul, the windowless room, no way out, waves of shame and horror, leave me alone.

strenuous occasions where (jumpy, un-opiated, wracked to the last synapse)

Butthole," he sobbed.

Remember that the road to healing winds through pain, anguish, sickness and many tears.

Bad enough I'm a goddamn burden to myself.

Pain can work from the outside in. I mean that sometimes what you see is pain. Pain in its cruelest, purest form.

In a world of tension and breakdown it is necessary for there to be those who seek to integrate their inner lives not by avoiding anguish and running away from problems, but by facing them in their naked reality and in their ordinariness. —Thomas Merton

Already there was black rain inside me.

Déjame que investigue las últimas células de tu cuerpo, los últimos rincones de tu alma; déjame que vuele tus secretos, que aclare tus misterios, que realice tus milagros; consérvate, presérvate, angústiate; sufre el amor; espérame...

Yo soy un anima infeliz,Perdida en este mundo atormendo. I am a miserable spirit lost in this tormented world.

I am so far removed, from everything, that I can't even cry. There's a chasm between me, where I am, and the world I am in. The world I move my feet through. The atmosphere I breathe is like golden syrup, twenty-seven atmospheres thick. I'm wading through the world, consumed with … consumed. And I'm wading through the swamp that my body has become.

I can no longer cry. I groan a few times. Through the slits that are my eyes, I stare at my shoes, at the gray swirls of the concrete floor, at the bright orange lid of my syringe. And I realize—it's a kind of horror—that this is my life. And I can't stop. I just can't stop. I can't stop anymore.

as long as I felt I had to take some action, I was anguished, and when I gave up all responsibility and stopped trying to do anything at all, I was relatively at peace, even though the earth meanwhile was circling so far below us and we were so high up in a defective airplane that would have trouble landing.

You have seen flowers at morning satisfied with the dew, and those same sweet flowers at noon with their heads bowed in anguish before the mighty sun; think you these thirsty blossoms will now need nought but — dew? No, they will cry for sunlight, and pine for the burning noon, tho' it scorches them