Quotes About Anguish

Le monde sent la mort Les oiseaux volent les yeux crevés Tu es sombre comme un ciel noir.

Anguish is what makes humankind, it seems; not anguish alone, but anguish transcended and the act of transcending it.

La santé c'est l'innocence organique. Elle doit être perdue, comme toute innocence, pour qu'une connaissance soit possible. Il en est de la physiologie comme de toute science, selon Aristote, elle procède de l'étonnement. Mais l'étonnement proprement vital c'est l'angoisse suscitée par la maladie.

And the air was rent with cries of the living glaring at the rotted bones and rags of their kin and friends just a-swingin in the winds circling about the land, and pulling the bones and rags--some crumbling and dry, some still squirming with the worms eating away at them--from those once mighty roots, and putting them back in the gaping holes.

And when I don't feel it, it's pointless. Think about getting up it's pointless. Think about eating it's pointless. Think about dressing it's pointless. Think about speaking it's pointless. Think about dying only it's totally fucking pointless.

I am the beast at the end of the rope.

M The heat is going out of me. C The heart is going out of me. B I feel nothing, nothing. I feel nothing.

No one can hate me more than I hate myself.

HIPPOLYTUS: No one burns me, no one fucking touches me. So don't try.

drowning in a sea of logic this monstrous state of palsy

Burning in a hot tunnel of dismay, my humiliation complete as I shake without reason and stumble over words and have nothing to say about my 'illness' which anyway amounts only to knowing that there's no point in anything because I'm going to die.

I have this grief and I don't know why.

Have you made any plans? Take an overdose, slash my wrists then hang myself. All those things together? It couldn't possibly be misconstrued as a cry for help.

I dread the loss of her I've never touched love keeps me a slave in a cage of tears I gnaw my tongue with which to her I can never speak I miss a woman who was never born I kiss a woman across the years that say we shall never meet Everything passes Everything perishes Everything palls my thought walks away with a killing smile leaving discordant anxiety which roars in my soul No hope No hope No hope No hope No hope No hope No hope

There is another kind of suffering, though, a pure agony, free from thought.

First thought: How terrible that she cannot kill herself .

He began to laugh again, a croaking, rasping vile sound that made me want to stop my ears with my fingers.

But my thoughts were more like poisons. I had so many, they made me sick.

What was the use of her being alive? Her heart was some desiccated thing: a prune, a fossil, a piece of clinker. Her mouth might as well be filled with ashes. It was all utterly hopeless and futile...

There is a feeling of death hanging over the nation. Today

I'm the drowning boy. I've been drowning for years.

So little of what we observe is Actuality. Do we see/hear the words pouring forth? Are they Truth? I wish and hope but my future is predestined per my parents' belief and that is denial and death, the deepest pits of hell, the thorniest of crowns, no sympathy, simply guilt, pain, anguish and lament. Call me your Anti-Savior and I'll take on your pain too.

we dream of peace and tranquility, the day when we no longer despair but our self-imposed angst cannot be avoided. we can't run. it won't go away. the noises i hear in my hell are very real and i'll continue to exist in an interested sort of anguish, looking for bloodstains on acid free sidewalks.

You're like a book I hate to read, a story I want to skip through to the end. You take my soul and blow me straight into hell. I'm high on wigged out poems, short shorts that don't stop. Am I dead? I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S REAL! What about you?