Quotes About Anguish

Fucked Up Set up Faced up Jacked up Sitting there in chokey 14 years old No lock on the door But no way out No joking No hoping No nothing Pinned Down.

I hated my life. Maybe it'd be easier if I could just die. [pp.119]

My mind is cloudy. My heart is bloody, and my soul is on ice.

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.

You don't even have to hate to have a perfectly miserable time.

In the world of the present, in our time, we feel that suffering, anguish, the torments of body and soul, are greater than ever before in the history of mankind.

Don't leave me, even for an hour, because then the little drops of anguish will all run together, the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift into me, choking my lost heart.

Ideologies separate us. Dreams and anguish bring us together.

She felt pained, desolate, guilty, bewildered—she did not know quite what word to put to her feelings except that they were hard to bear and harder to hide.

Despair, he remembered now from an earlier occasion, could hurt as keenly as an open knife wound.

My life came to an end the day I left you, he whispered fiercely. I have lived in hell since then. I do not need to die, Becky. Nothing could be worse than what I have lived. If you wished to see me punished, know that your wish has been granted a thousandfold.

The need to cry was almost a pain.

No, she must not begin to doubt. She hated him. She hated him because he had brought turmoil into her life again. And emotion. And bitter regret for all that might have been. She hated him.

He could no longer prolong the sweet agony.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his aching head in his hands for a few moments. Deuce take it, I wish I were dead.

My life came to an end the day I left you. I have lived in hell since then. Were those the feelings of a man who did not know what deep emotion was?

Las mentiras solo acarreaban sufrimiento.

He hated himself with a depth of hatred he had never felt for anyone else.

But it was an ordeal worse than any she had yet experienced in the days since she heard he was coming home. To see him and to hear him was bad enough. To touch him was unendurable—that slim yet surprisingly strong hand that had so often held hers in the past, so often touched and caressed her.

A few voices, strict and punctilious, like Shelley's, like Thoreau's, cry out: Change! Change! But most don't say that; they simply say: Be what you are, of the earth, but a dreamer too. Teilhard de Chardin was not talking about how to escape anguish, but about how to live with it.

I am malicious because I am miserable

But soon, I shall die, and what I now feel be no longer felt. Soon these burning miseries will be extinct.

Unhappy man! Do you share my maddness? Have you drunk also of the intoxicating draught? Hear me; let me reveal my tale, and you will dash the cup from your lips!

But I am a blasted tree; the bolt has entered my soul; and I felt then that I should survive to exhibit, what I shall soon cease to be - a miserable spectacle of wrecked humanity, pitiable to others, and intolerable to myself.