Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Anguished. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Anguished Quotes And Sayings by 87 Authors including Ernest Dowson,Elizabeth Gaskell,Julie Kagawa,Joseph Roth,Jane Austen for you to enjoy and share.
I was not sorrowful, but only tired
Of everything that ever I desired.
Miserably disturbed!' that is not strong enough. He was haunted by the remembrance of the handsome young man, with whom she stood in an attitude of such familiar confidence; and the remembrance shot through him like an agony, till it made him clench his hands tight in order to subdue the pain.
I ached for him, my stomach twisting painfully. He looked so desolate standing there alone facing a mad queen and several thousand angry fey. His voice was flat and resigned, as if he'd been pushed into a corner and had given up, not caring what happened next.
Misery crouches beside me, ever larger and ever gentler; pain takes an interest, becomes huge and kind; terror flutters up, and it doesn't even frighten me anymore. And that'a the most desolate thing of all.
So, with smiles of most exquisite misery, and the laughing eye of utter despondency,
It is the suffering of ambivalence: the murderous alternation between bitter resentment and raw-edged nerves, and blissful gratification and tenderness
Feeling my own humiliation in my heart like the sharp prick of a needle.
She was feeling, thinking, trembling about everything; agitated, happy, miserable, infinitely obliged, absolutely angry.
The soul is pained by all things it thinks upon.
At length for my seared and writhing body there was no longer an inch of foothold on the firm floor of the prison. I struggled no more, but the agony of my soul found vent in one loud, long, and final scream of despair. I felt that I tottered upon the brink
I averted my eyes
Unhappy is a nice word.
A deep distress has humanised my soul.
Discomfort guides my tongue And bids me speak of nothing but despair.
I didn't know how to communicate my suffering to anyone else. My anger was returning. I was screaming for help, but the language I was speaking no one seemed to understand. (183)
I was so obsessed and consumed with my grievances that I could not get away from myself and think things out in the light. I was in the grip of that blinding, destructive, terrible thing
righteous indignation.
My suffering left me sad and gloomy.
It is my duty to voice the sufferings of humankind, the never-ending sufferings heaped mountain high. This is my task, but it is not an easy one to fulfill.
Distraught I seize mine arms ... And with my comrades hasten to the hold: frenzy and anger urge my headlong will, and death methinks how comely, sword in hand!
And thou art terrible
the tear,
The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier;
And all we know, or dream, or fear
Of agony, are thine.
ANIENTED (A'NIENTED) adj.[anneantir, Fr.]Frustrated; brought to nothing.
Anguish and despair had penetrated into the core of my heart; I bore a hell within me, which nothing could extinguish.
Here have been many times in my life when I have felt helpless. It is perhaps the most acute pain a person can know, founded in frustration and ventless rage.
In such moments of precious, invaluable misery, she rejoiced in tears of agony ...
The misery of the moment.
A wretched soul, bruised with adversity,
We bid be quiet when we hear it cry;
But were we burdened with light weight of pain,
As much or more we should ourselves complain.
Sometimes the acutest of agonies are difficult to find expression in the given vocabulary: words fail but pain prevails.
I am in torment within, and in my heart I am disturbed. Lamentations 1:20a niv
I was so humiliated, hurt, spurned, offended, angry, sorry
I cannot hit upon the right name for the smart
God knows what its name was
that tears started to my eyes.
She is overtaken by a sensation of unbeing. There is no other word for it.
amazement, shading into dismay; a shallow horror sensation that cold springs of personal fear swiftly deepened.
ennui - that dreaded mire of the human emotions.
A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.
Grief dejects and wrings the tortured soul.
Misery and shame are nearly allied.
Sorrow beyond dreams.
Stunned and still not suffering. Swollen with care and anxiety and still not suffering. Useless, old and full of grief, but still not suffering.
I felt alone, my loneliness suffocated me, and I craved to scream, shout and kill me while seeing all this. However, self-hatred also occupied me.
Ah! The anguish, the vile rage, the despair
Of not being able to express
With a shout, an extreme and bitter shout,
The bleeding of my heart.
I felt that I breathed an atmosphere of sorrow.
inch of her body was in agony. She felt like she had been flayed, and she looked like she had been
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.
I wish to soothe him; yet can I counsel one so infinitely miserable, so destitute of every hope of consolation, to live?
Feeble, I'd become afflicted
And my agony had no closure,
To love I'd become immune
Despite my abundant exposure
Great anguish lies in wait for those who long too greatly.
Agony sometimes changes
form
but
it never ceases for
anybody.
Sorrow compressed my heart, and I felt I would die, and then ... Well, then I woke up.
There needs to be a German compound word for feeling both guilty and enraged. - Jamie
Suffering degrades, embitters and enrages.
Words are too poor and too scant
to express the inmost feeling in the heart of man.
We are angered even by the full acceptance of our humiliating confessions - how much more by hearing in hard distinct syllables from the lips of a near observer, those confused murmurs which we try to call morbid, and strive against as if they were the oncoming of numbness!
Evoke at painful junctures, when discouragement threatens to raise its head, the image of a vast cretinous mouth, red blubber and slobbering, in solitary confinement, extruding indefatigably, with a noise of wet kisses and washing in a tub, the words that obstruct it.
Bitter, bitter, this desolation of angels.
Agony is truth its our connection to the living I accept it as perfection and keep on existing in the now
Despair is not a particularly respectable condition and yet despair and delight alternate like systole and diastole in my heart.
Physical pain will never compare to mental anguish
The existentialist says at once that man is anguish.
A cold sense of desolation lodged itself somewhere in the base of my throat, and suddenly I was no longer enraged or devastated, but terrified of the immense, throbbing loneliness that was only now closing like a vise on my internal organs.
Affliction has a sting, out withal a wing: sorrow shall fly away.
The agony of my soul found vent in one loud, long and final scream of despair.
Hopeless. Freak. Elephant. Pitiful
It's hard to look pleasant when anguish is present, and yet it is strictly worth while; Not all of your scowling and fussing and growling can show off your grit like a smile.
There I was, cold, isolated and desperate for something I knew I couldn't have.
A solution. A remedy. Anything.
... I hated it. Alone and confused was the last place I wanted to be.
Somehow I knew I deserved this.
He felt empty, broken, defeated.
...my soul bleeding tears of anguish
The agony is unbearable. Unbearable and endless.
I was too miserable to take much consolation just from feeling good for a moment in a welter of shudders and salted, bloodstained tears.
Her pain was so great that she could have screamed at the top of her voice. She had never known that one could suffer so much; and she asked herself desperately what she had done to deserve it.
Endless sorrow has fallen upon my heart.
Genuine sorrows are very tranquil in appearance in the deep bed they have dug for themselves. But, seeming to slumber, they corrode the soul like that frightful acid which penetrates crystal.
He could not talk himself out of pain any longer. He had no one to be strong for. So finally, he cried. He cried with deep sobs, head bent to the ground, palms pressed to his eyes. He cried so hard that sorrow rushed out of his face. He cried until he felt like the sea.
Excruciating agony makes me cranky.
I was helplessly captured; and hopelessly enraptured.
Should - a word of anguish rather than consolation.
A blend of desolation and outrage. Or longing and fury. She wanted him back, she never wanted to see him again.
Sorrow is dangerous.
Rage and unbearable pain meshed together like twin strands in an ever-tightening rope.
Real unhappiness is ugly and wounding and scarring to the soul.
Stung by the splendour of a sudden thought.
My habitual mood of humiliation, self-doubt, forlorn depression, fell damp on the embers of my decaying ire.
It was as if her heart had some instinctual longing for misery and pain.
I felt like a glutton for pain, like I wanted to clutch the misery close to my heart and let it sit there.
There was so much we had done to ourselves, so much we said in our sessions that our hearts were rent with sorrow. There is so much that happens to the human heart that is in the realm of the unthinkable, the unknowable, the unbearable. (95)
Say I feel all sad and self-indulgent, then get stung by a wasp, my misery feels quite abstract and I long just to be in spiritual pain once more - 'damn you tiny assassin, clad in yellow and black, how I crave my former innocence where melancholy was my only trial'.
An anxiety for being me, forever trapped in myself, floods my whole being without finding a way out, shaping me into tenderness, fear, sorrow and desolation.
An inexplicable surfeit of absurd grief, a sorrow so lonely, so bereft, so metaphysically mine ...
Extreme torture is mute, and so we sat silent, petrified, like columns of marble buried under the sand of an earthquake. Neither wished to listen to the other because our heart-threads had become weak and even breathing would have broken them.
My heart is tuned to sorrow, and the strings Vibrate most readily to minor chords, Searching and sad; my mind is stuffed with words Which voice the passion and the ache of things: Illusions beating with their baffled wings Against the walls of circumstance.
There is a mental fatigue which is a spurious kind of remorse, and has all the anguish of the nobler feeling. It is an utter weariness and prostration of spirit, a sickness of heart and mind, a bitter longing to lie down and die.
The depressed person was in terrible and unceasing pain, and the impossibility of sharing or articulating this pain was itself a component of the pain and a contributing factor in its essential horror.
For what are the words with which to summarize a lifetime, so much crowded confused happiness terminated by such stark slow-motion pain?
Distress does not permit man to think....
It was as if an embankment had been swept away and I (Neel ) were floundering in a flood , trying not to drown in my grief.
Terrible beautiful combination of happiness and pain.
This was misery that could not yield, for he sorrowed for a time he could not return to, and a self he would never again be.
The tears of anguish irritate and excite; but those of repentance are the ones that wash.
I was agitated something fierce.
practically in tears
I wondered vaguely what it would be to feel this loss, this outrage, and be justified in it, be deserving of sympathy, of solace. I would not have told my woe to a living creature. My own tears meant nothing to me.
The cadence of suffering has begun.
I got a heart full of pain, head full of stress, handfull of anger, held in my chest.
Grief is terror, in its most undiluted form.