Quotessence
Home / Quotes / Quote by Radclyffe Hall

Quote by Radclyffe Hall

Work

The Well Of Loneliness

This novel delves into the complexities of personal identity and the challenges faced by individuals who do not conform to societal expectations, particularly focusing on the protagonist's struggle with her sexual identity. more

Author

Radclyffe Hall
Radclyffe Hall

Radclyffe Hall, a British poet, was born on August 12, 1880, and passed away on October 7, 1943. Her poetry is known for its unique style and profound emotional expression. more

You May Also Like

“When you hit rock bottom, you feel it. You break down, walls crumbling until you’re free-falling. The feelings that you tried to run from suddenly rush up around you in an unstoppable force, the gravity of your thoughts now nothing but a punishing plunge. When you slam into the bottom, that landing jolts you all the way to your very soul. You hit hard, and it cracks the very foundation of the world. The ground fragments beneath you, lines stretching far and wide. And then you’re left, a pile of rubble. But I realize something as I lie here, surrounded by the destruction of my plummet. These cracks that have spread out from my caustic landing, they’re not evidence of my ruination. They’re paths. Each jagged line leads from me and then diverts away, showing me all the different ways I could go from here. But I’m also in my mind, staring at the fissures around me, seeing where each one leads. Because now that I’m forced to feel what I didn’t want to, I have a decision to make. I can choose to stay stagnant here, at the bottom of the cliff, broken and unmoving. I can rage, I can wallow, I can blame, I can hide. I can let the severed parts of me sever all the rest. Or I can get up, dust myself off, and look back up. I can find a path that ensures I’ll never fall again, ensures that I don’t lose any more parts of myself. All I have to do is turn and follow my feet, one step at a time. So that’s what I’ll do. I let myself cry until all my tears dry up. There is no choked breathing or scrunched up nose. No pulled lips or furrowed brow. This is the suffering of the silent. A hurt so deep it doesn’t show itself on a face.”

Life LessonsSufferingInner StrengthRebuilding LifeRaven KennedyPlated PrisonerBrokennesse
Book:Glint
Create image

“I have a wish; one and only wish: to find the balance between the exhausting solitude, and the unbearable crowds. That, dear friend, is the answer we seek, and the answer that was sought by the people before us. On another thought, it is for the best if we do not find the answer, for then we can suffer without a reason and we can blame God for such suffering, He who understands what we mean.”

GodSuffering
Book:Letters Of The Observer
Create image

“The truth is that we humans cannot fight Life’s design. For instance, when someone’s time is up, they just have to go. When this understanding is complete, there will be a realization that carrying on grieving is futile. That’s when you exercise the choice to be non-suffering. However, being non-suffering does not mean that there will be no pain. You cannot negotiate with pain. You have to simply accept it. But when you are non-suffering your ability to accept pain and deal with it improves significantly.”

PainHappinessDeathSufferingSpiritualityGriefAvis ViswanathanFall Like A Rose PetalThe HappynesswalasVaani
Author:AVIS Viswanathan
Create image

“Grief is a cruel kind of education. You learn how ungentle mourning can be, how full of anger. You learn how glib condolences can feel. You learn how much grief is about language, the failure of language and the grasping for language. Why are my sides so sore and achy? It’s from crying, I’m told. I did not know that we cry with our muscles. The pain is not surprising, but itsphysicality is: my tongue unbearably bitter, as though I ate a loathed meal and forgot to clean my teeth; on my chest, a heavy, awful weight; and inside my body, a sensation of eternal dissolving. My heart - my actual physical heart, nothing figurative here - is running away from me, has become its own separate thing, beating too fast, its rhytms at odds with mine. This is an affliction not merely of the spirit but of the body, of aches and lagging strength. Flesh, muscles, organs are all compromised. No physical position is comfortable. For weeks, my stomach is in turmoil, tense and tight with foreboding, the ever-present certainty that somebody else will die, that more will be lost. One morning, Okey calls me a little earlier than usual and I think, Just tell me, tell me immediately, who has died now. Is it Mummy?”

PainDeathSufferingGriefMorteLuto
Book:Notes on Grief
Create image