Quotes About Anguish

In any case life is but a procession of shadows, and God knows why it is that we embrace them so eagerly, and see them depart with such anguish, being shadows.

No scene of mortal life but teems with mortal woe.

Corpus Bones! I utterly loathe my life.

Life is absolutely unbearable. And we're going to die.

I think, life is miserable.

And then the world turned red, then black. And there was nothing any more.

Maybe all the strings inside him broke.

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness painsMy sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,Or emptied some dull opiate to the drainsOne minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk.

Heartbreak comes just when you think nothing worse can happen.

There was not enough pain in Akhil's body to pay for all of this.

A priest could have no anguish, he'd given up happiness, his fixed life moving in the calm of certainty into its end, cursed by no earthly love or longing, all had been chosen years before.

I can't pretend to know what it feels like to lose a child, but I assume it's the worst pain I've ever felt times a thousand, or times a hundred thousand.

On bad days, I could feel the whole year swinging underneath me like a dead thing.

I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless; That only men incredulous of despair, half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air beat upward to god's throne in loud access of shrieking and reproach

By anguish which made pale the sun, I hear Him charge his saints that none Among his creatures anywhere Blaspheme against Him with despair, However darkly days go on.

Nor mourn, O living One, because her part in life was mourning: Would she have lost the poet's fire for the anguish of the burning? The minstrel harp, for the strained string? tripod for the afflated Woe, or the vision, for those tears in which it shone dilated?

I had begun such a letter — when, by the plan of going to Little Bookham, my plans were all hurried forward — changed — driven prematurely into action, and the last hours of agitation and deep anguish — for it was the deepest of its kind, to leave Wimpole Street and those whom I tenderly loved — so would not admit of my writing or thinking:

He feels spikes everywhere and rushes to impale himself.

You agonise me by being so agonised.

She looked as though everything that she didn't like had happened to her.

The bed of a tortured soul is always in shambles by morning.

I deserved the shaking and the headaches and the fact that every single time I took a breath I felt a squeezing in my chest, my heart beating even though I wished it wasn't.

I am the living dead girl because I am too weak to die.

Like a heart, and I wish mine wasn't beating.