Quotes About Anguish

When I woke, my anguish was specific: the possibility that it was as painful for them to be remembered as it was for me to remember them; that I was haunting my parents and Bella with my calling, startling them awake in their black beds.

For always in her there was a dark place full of despair and a great dividing force to make meaning because there was none.

Dear God, help me. Do not forget me on this tiny cinder lost in a galaxy that is lost–a heart no bigger than a speck of dust beating, beating against death, against meaninglessness, against guilt, against sorrow.

For what can the damned really have to say to the damned?

Fear and music and blood and pain. That was still his existence.

I was too miserable to take much consolation just from feeling good for a moment in a welter of shudders and salted, bloodstained tears.

I have it in my heart. It's mine alone, this pain.

This is when you pray, she thought miserably and quietly. This is when you pray to nothing and no one to take away the terror of what you've done, to make it right, to make it that you never never came here.

buckled under the weight of a loneliness so terrible I would have chosen death then if only I'd had such a choice.

What can the damned really say to the damned?

An icy gust of air rose from the open doors. Blackness. I cannot be locked in blackness. I cannot! And finally he screamed. He couldn't hold it back any longer. He screamed, the terrible cry begun before he was pushed forward, before he felt himself topple from the threshold, before he realized he was plunging down and down into the blackness, into the nothingness...

And pain was pain, whether physical or mental. Not the wisest of men or women or Taltos would ever know which was worse—the pain of the heart or the pain of the flesh.

The only pain in pleasure is the pleasure of pain

You cut my heart out of my chest while I lived and breathed, and you took it with you! We shall be together this night in Hell.

The agony of losing him was monstrous. How could I deny it with a single syllable?

It was hitting me again like so many violent blows that my world was dashed, that my house was ruined, that Amadeo was stolen from me.

Oh, to think this burnt body had within it the blood of tears.

His mind was full of the verbal instruments by which he could bring about his own despair.

I heard a sinister laughter, rumbling like low thunder over the moist soft sounds of their anguish and suffering. I heard a long, dry cruel laugh. I closed my eyes. I went deep deep inside myself. I lay in the dirt of the Monastery of the Caves, a wraith of myself, tumbled back into the softest and most terrible memories.

It was very easy for me to discern, without revealing my own presence, that an entire world of vampires mourned for me with greater anguish and tears than I could ever have predicted.

The heat in me was delicious and unendurable, and I wanted nothing more than to take Amadeo, bring him over to me now, and yet he sat before me, the tears streaming down his face.

The bluff heartiness, the posturing, the inflamed face, the badinage were missing. He was gray-white and his eyes were swollen and bloodshot.

To his distress, the Queen suddenly burst into a passion of weeping and said it was plain [she] was to be miserable as long as [she] lived, whatever [she] did.

I'm a roomful of broken hearts