Quotes About Anguish

The features of the face suggested strangeness, in a manner that owed nothing to their composition, which was quite ordinary. It was a clever face, and strong, but its cleverness and strength had nothing to do with the world. This man might walk through beauty or filth, through fire or flood or anguish, and not notice it, or at least not suffer it, for his brain was in constant flight, negotiating some other plain beyond all physical things.

He felt as if his flesh had been neatly filleted and packed with salt, each organ stuffed with burning coals, his bones drilled open and filled with molten lead.

Darkness. Blindness. Fear. Fury. They're all the same thing.

Black was the without eye Black the within tongue Black was the heart Black the liver, black the lungs Unable to suck in light Black the blood in its loud tunnel Black the bowels packed in furnace Black too the muscles Striving to pull out into the light Black the nerves, black the brain With its tombed visions Black also the soul, the huge stammer Of the cry that, swelling, could not Pronounce its sun.

Real unhappiness is ugly and wounding and scarring to the soul.

I shouldn't have been there. I should never have been born.

As they were carting him off on a gurney, all I could think was, I wish that was me.

And then," she finished, "there was the awful sound of a man crying, Honey.

What would they do if I said I hurt so much I feel like I want to die? —Jeremy Richards

Sara waited a respectful time, knowing there was nothing she could do to ease the woman's pain. Grief was a place, Sara understood, where a person went alone. It was like a room without doors, and what happened in that room, all the anger and the pain you felt, was meant to stay there, nobody's business but yours.

Silence, too, can be torture.

He looks shocked, and worse. He looks like he's on the brink of breaking down completely.", Loving Summer by Kailin Gow

Masses of Iraqis keep on dying for no palpably tangible reason that they can so much as identify to themselves, far less anyone else. Why?

This can't be life.

For bleeding inwards and shut vapours strangle soonest and oppress most.

mi corazón es reino del espanto.

What man seeks, to the point of anguish, in his gods, in his art, in his science, is meaning. He cannot bear the void. He pours meaning on events like salt on his food.

There is release from anguish in action.

I take this for myself, and you take up the thread of my life between your teeth, tin thread and tarnished with abuse, you shall still hear as long as the beast in me maintains its taciturn power to close my lids in tears, and my loins move yet in the ennobling pursuit of all the worlds you have left me alone in, and would be the dolorous distraction from, while you summon your army of anguishes which is a million hooting blood vessels on the eyes and in the ears at that instant before death.

Life is a wince-a-thon.

She's thinking I betrayed her, and she's thinking it now! I can't live with that.

The darkling plain is here. This is the waste land: England, America, Russia, China, Israel, France.... And we are here as victims, or as spectators, or as perpetrators of tortures, massacres, poisonings, manipulations, despoliation.

Que todo termina en un instante Planatera doloroso

He wanted to go. He hurt so much. He wanted it all to end, to go away. Everything. He just wanted it to stop.