Quotes About Anguish

Like a fiend in a cloud, With howling woe, After night I do crowd, And with night will go; I turn my back to the east, From whence comforts have increased; For light doth seize my brain With frantic pain.

a horror more intense than pain, and visited it upon them in the moment of truth.

Ale na ?wiecie by?o spokojnie, tylko w nim tak kipia? ?al.

He felt his solitude like the muffled echo of that of the victims. Well before the Interahamwe arrived, everyone was already alone, torn between anguish and absurd hopes.

And all the beautiful words of the poets, Cornelius, can say nothing, I swear to you, of the fifty thousand ways to die like a dog, within a few hours.

I ducked inside, my mind still numb. The stench came first, the acid smells of urine and the never-mistaken stink of fecal matter. Something was burning—I think I knew what—and the damp yellow odor of sweat seemed to be coming from the walls. But there was something else here. The smell, not of death, but of predeath, like gangrene, like something dying and decomposing while still breathing. The

It was the type of bad that made you want to do anything to please— —oh God please— —make it stop. It made you think about picking up a gun and silencing the sounds, if you knew where you were, if you knew that you were so close to your bedside table where you kept a gun in that small safe . . . Maya

The arm was the worst of it; it felt as though it'd been mangled by a tiger and then jammed into a blender set on pulverize. A blacksmith was mercilessly using her skull as an anvil. Her tongue and mouth had the dryness of both the Sahara and the worst hangover imaginable. Megan

AM said it with the sliding cold horror of a razor blade slicing my eyeball. AM said it with the bubbling thickness of my lungs filling with phlegm, drowning me from within. AM said it with the shriek of babies being ground beneath blue-hot rollers. AM said it with the taste of maggoty pork. AM touched me in every way I had ever been touched, and devised new ways, at his leisure, there inside my mind.

I have no mouth. And I must scream...

AM will be all the madder for that. It makes me a little happier. And yet … AM has won, simply … he has taken his revenge … I have no mouth. And I must scream. (Page 13).

AM said it with the shriek of babies being ground beneath blue–hot rollers.

Madam, my father has left me flopping like a flounder at low tide and you say what's the matter.

he's freed himself from every stigma, but he sits nursing his hangover of hatred….

I am living in hell from one day to the next. But there is nothing I can do to escape. I don't know where I would go if I did. I feel utterly powerless, and that feeling is my prision. I entered of my own free will, I locked the door, and I threw away the key.

Constipation was one of the things she hated most in the world, on par with despicable men who commit domestic violence and narrow-minded religious fundamentalists.

All he felt was sorrow, as if he'd been abandoned at the bottom of a deep, dark pit. That's all it was—sorrow. That, and simple physical pain.

Work — once merely an annoying nuisance — has become an agonizing torture.

The year that 'Lost' started and premiered was, without a doubt, the most miserable year of my life. The level of despair and anguish that I was feeling; I was clinically depressed, and anyone that you talked to who knew me at the time will tell you that.

At the root of everything I write is tragedy.

My bones are tired from all the tragedy in me.

It would be a tragic mistake for us out here to imagine that Bush represents the hearts and the minds of the majority of your countrymen. Many of your black and other compatriots must be just as anguished as we are.

We know the seductive alchemy of art. To transform private anguish into a narrative of truth, if not beauty; to make sense where there was none; to bring order out of chaos - these are the promises art makes.

The nature of anguish is translated into different forms.