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Angst Quotes

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Angst Quotes

“Meine einst weiß geglaubte Seele hatte sich schwarz verfärbt. Je mehr ich versuchte, die Schatten darauf loszuwerden, umso weiter breiteten sie sich aus und nährten sich am Hass, der Angst und Verzweiflung in mir. Nur ein kleiner weißer Fleck hielt sich wacker und gab mir Halt, wann immer ich mich ihm zuwandte. Eli – die Person, die ich einst wie die Pest gemieden hatte, strahlte nun heller als alles andere, was mich umgab. Ein weißer kleiner Fleck auf schwarzem Untergrund. Ein einzelnes Licht, umgeben von dunkelsten Schatten.”

AngstSeeleLichtVorurteileHassSchattenFeindschaftVerzeiflung
Book:Schattenmale
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“Ich stand noch eine Weile vor der Tür, was machte er denn da? Stand er am Fenster, am Schreibtisch, vor dem Bücherregal, saß er in seinem Sessel? Auch jemand, der dasitzt und liest, macht irgendein Geräusch, auch jemand, der die Buchrücken anschaut auf der Suche nach Lektüre, jemand, der Akten sichtet, ja, sogar jemand, der aus dem Fenster sieht, macht irgendein Geräusch, zumindest, wenn es ein heiteres Rausschauen ist, ein entspanntes Lesen und eine geschäftige Büchersuche, jede Normalität macht ein Geräusch, selbst eine ruhige Normalität. Die Sorge ist es, die Geräusche verschluckt, die Angst lähmt jede Bewegung, Traurigkeit, Melancholie, die Depression, sie sind es, die alle lebendigen Regungen einfrieren und zum Verstummen bringen.”

DepressionAngstStilleTraurigkeitMelancholie
Book:Ich war Diener im Hause Hobbs
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“Because I can't help doing it," he said with a shrug. "And hey, if I keep loving you, maybe you'll eventually crack and love me too. Hell, I'm pretty sure you're already half in love with me." "I am not! And everything you just said is ridiculous. That's terrible logic." Adrian returned to his crossword puzzle. "Well, you can think what you want, so long as you remember-no matter how ordinary things seem between us-I'm still here, still in love with you, and care about you more than any other guy, evil or otherwise, ever will." "I don't think you're evil." "See? Things are already looking promising.”

LoveHumorRelationshipsFriendshipAngstAdrian IvashkovRichelle Mead
Book:The Indigo Spell
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“শান্ত ও চিররুগ্ন এক কিশোর আমি এঁকেবেঁকে চলে যাচ্ছিলাম চারিদিকে। শেষমেশ পড়েছি কবিতার আসল খপ্পরে, দুরারোগ্য স্বপ্নে। স্বপ্ন অনেক বেশি ক্ষতিকারক। স্বপ্ন কিশোরের পকেট ভরে তুলতে থাকে অসম্ভবের সোনাদানায়, মগজের মধ্যে রুয়ে দিতে থাকে আজগুবি ধরনের লতাপাতা ও ফুল-ফলের চারা, কানের মধ্যে বাজিয়ে চলে পাশের কামরার অন্ধকারের কনুই ও হাঁটুর শব্দ, অজানার গোপন ফিসফাস। স্বপ্ন মেলার মধ্যে নিষিদ্ধ ভিড়ে কানকো ধরে টেনে নিয়ে একদম ফতুর করে ছেড়ে দেয়। ফতুর হয়ে কিশোর ঘুরতে থাকে স্বপ্নের মেলার সুন্দরের আয়োজনের দুয়ারে দুয়ারে। কিন্তু সকল দুয়ারেই সাজানো ঝিলিকমিলিক দৌবারিক। সব দরোজা পাহারাদারদের দখলে। কিশোর দেখে, সুন্দরের সব দরোজায় বসে গেছে টিকিট কাউন্টার। হ্যাজাক জ্বালিয়ে নাভিতে আচমকা লাফিয়ে ওঠে সার্কাসের তাঁবু। কিশোর তার টিকিটবিহীন হৃদয় নিয়ে ঘুরতে থাকে সুন্দরের এক প্রবেশ-পথ থেকে আরেক প্রবেশ পথের দিকে। উঁকি মারে ফতুর কিশোর : একাগ্র, নিঃসঙ্গ ও নির্লিপ্ত।”

LifePoetryDreamsAngstBengaliBanglaAdolescent
Book:কবিতার স্বপ্ন
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“The letter had been crumpled up and tossed onto the grate. It had burned all around the edges, so the names at the top and bottom had gone up in smoke. But there was enough of the bold black scrawl to reveal that it had indeed been a love letter. And as Hannah read the singed and half-destroyed parchment, she was forced to turn away to hide the trembling of her hand. —should warn you that this letter will not be eloquent. However, it will be sincere, especially in light of the fact that you will never read it. I have felt these words like a weight in my chest, until I find myself amazed that a heart can go on beating under such a burden. I love you. I love you desperately, violently, tenderly, completely. I want you in ways that I know you would find shocking. My love, you don't belong with a man like me. In the past I've done things you wouldn't approve of, and I've done them ten times over. I have led a life of immoderate sin. As it turns out, I'm just as immoderate in love. Worse, in fact. I want to kiss every soft place of you, make you blush and faint, pleasure you until you weep, and dry every tear with my lips. If you only knew how I crave the taste of you. I want to take you in my hands and mouth and feast on you. I want to drink wine and honey from you. I want you under me. On your back. I'm sorry. You deserve more respect than that. But I can't stop thinking of it. Your arms and legs around me. Your mouth, open for my kisses. I need too much of you. A lifetime of nights spent between your thighs wouldn't be enough. I want to talk with you forever. I remember every word you've ever said to me. If only I could visit you as a foreigner goes into a new country, learn the language of you, wander past all borders into every private and secret place, I would stay forever. I would become a citizen of you. You would say it's too soon to feel this way. You would ask how I could be so certain. But some things can't be measured by time. Ask me an hour from now. Ask me a month from now. A year, ten years, a lifetime. The way I love you will outlast every calendar, clock, and every toll of every bell that will ever be cast. If only you— And there it stopped.”

LoveRomancePassionAngstLove LettersHannah AppletonRafe Bowman
Book:A Wallflower Christmas
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“Is it that bad, if that is what this is?" Evan asks. "If all I am is you, and no part of me is here, think about how long you've had hope for yourself. Think about how long you've believed in yourself. Think about how long you've been urging yourself to climb. Think about how far you've gotten, just as you." "Maybe," Regulus rasps, "but I really wish it was you." Evan sighs. "I'm dead, Regulus." "I know, Evan," Regulus says, and his voice cracks. "I know." "Everyone else, and you let them go," Evan whispers. "You learned to let them go, and learned to keep them even though you had. But not me." "You—you're—" Regulus shakes his head, feeling his face twitch and twist, trying so hard not to cry. You're the first person I learned to trust again, he doesn't say. You're the first person I really, truly lost; the first person I could never get back, he doesn't say. What he says, instead, makes his voice crack. "You're my best friend." And it's true. Even now, it's true, and Regulus knows it, so Evan does, too. "You were mine, too," Evan says, and then he tilts his head a bit. "After the arena, you dreamed of me because you couldn't let me go." "I know." "Why did you stop?" "Because I knew I needed to," Regulus chokes out.”

FriendshipGrief And LossAngst
Book:Crimson Rivers
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“Regulus swallows. "You're a good person, Evan Rosier." "That's the thing, though. I'm really not." Evan blinks at him slowly. "I just—like you. Isn't that mental?" "Certifiably insane," Regulus says, his chest feeling tight. Evan waves his free hand lazily. "I don't mean the way your boyfriend likes you. Just…person to person, I suppose. It's a shame, really. I think—well, I think you're my friend.”

FriendshipAngst
Book:Crimson Rivers
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“Regulus snorts weakly. "Not really. I'm not exactly…the easiest person to get on with." "What? No. You're a fucking delight, what are you on about?" Evan mocks through a shit-eating grin. "No one's ever—" Regulus exhales shakily. "I have a friend at home, just one, but that's…different. I think you two would have gotten on well. But he's—" Regulus stops, because he's not sure how to even begin explaining Barty, who is his friend, yes, but not the way Evan has been. "Well, I'm not the type to have a best friend, but if I were, it would have been you." "Pity we never met before this, eh?" Evan swallows harshly”

FriendshipAngst
Book:Crimson Rivers
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“If you're in the heyday of rock and roll and movies, and that's where I grew up. We didn't have to look for it. We didn't have to create angst. We didn't have to create desire. We didn't have to say, see we were screwed, my generation, because we wanted to be The Beatles or Elvis Presley. That ain't going to happen. So we always had this thing to reach for.”

IfsLooksHappensWantedDesireGenerationsRocksGrewGrew UpRock And RollAngstMy GenerationHeyday
Author:Billy Bob Thornton
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“Sometimes the most interesting visual phenomena occur when you least expect it. Other times, you think youre getting something amazing and the photographs turn out to be boring and predictable. So I think thats why, a long time ago, I consciously tried to let go of artists angst, and instead just hope for the best and enjoy it. I love the journey as much as the destination. If I wasnt a photographer, Id still be a traveler.”

IfsThinkingLongStillsSometimesArtistTurnsEnjoyInterestingJourneyLetting GoLong TimePhotographerPhotographBoringVisualsDestinationTravelerLong Time AgoMost InterestingPredictableAngstHoping For The Best
Author:Michael Kenna
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“Every time some new huckster of angst-ridden metaphor is appointed by Art Forum, the congregation genuflects, stroking the catalog like a handful of Rosary beads, and starts spreading that old gospel according to Hyperbole. No questions asked... And thus the bill of goods is sold, all along the line. An art historical snake, swallowing its own tale.”

ArtLinesBillsHistoricalMetaphorTalesGoodsSnakesHandfulAngstCongregationForumsBeadsRosaryContemporary ArtSwallowingHyperboleQuestions AskedRosary Beads
Author:Abe Ajay
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“In the end, I feel that one has to have a bit of neurosis to go on being an artist. A balanced human seldom produces art. It's that imbalance which impels us. I often think that all I want to do now is to avoid suicide, accidental or otherwise. Other than that, I think living on the edge is what drives my work and me beyond a certain point. The artist lives with anxiety. When you finally reach a plateau of achievement, there comes a new anxiety - the hunger to push on still further. That angst is what makes you go forward.”

ThinkingWantFeelsHumansArtStillsEndsArtistCertainBitsProduceGoes OnAchievementAnxietySuicideHungerEdgesBalancedAngstLiving OnNeurosisBeing An ArtistImbalanceLiving On The Edge
Author:Beverly Pepper
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“You look out into the audience and you see so much joy on people's faces. You make eye contact with people who are almost crying because they can't believe they're seeing the Rumours five back again, they can't believe their eyes. It's almost like a family reunion on stage, there's no angst, there's no animosity, there's just tremendous amount of friendship.”

PeopleBelieveLooksEyeFacesJoyAudienceFiveSeeingStageCryAmountContactAngstBack AgainReunionAnimosityRumoursEye ContactFamily Reunion
Author:Christine McVie
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“Among people I have met, the few whom I would term “great” all share a kind of unquestioned, fierce dedication; an utter lack of doubt about the value of their activities (or at least an internal impulse that drives through any such angst); and above all, a capacity to work (or at least to be mentally alert for unexpected insights) at every available moment of every day of their lives.”

PeopleLifeKindMomentsValuesTermWorkDoubtShareMetsActivityCapacityAvailableInsightImpulseUnexpectedInternalsDedicationFierceAngst
Author:Stephen Jay Gould
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“Boy meets girl. Boy marries girl. Boy and girl angst over which family they visit at Thanksgiving and which one in December and whether or not it's best to serve turkey or goose for the family feast. When first faced with the reality that the family you married into does things differently, the warmth of tradition can take on a chill.”

FirstsDoeRealityGirlBoysMarriedTraditionWarmthChillTurkeysAngstDecemberGeeseBoy And GirlBoy GirlBoy Meets Girl
Author:Marge M. Kennedy
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“The majority of American writers today have chosen passive non-resistance to things as they are, producing sloughs of poetry about their personal angst and anomie, cascades of short stories and rivers of novels obsessed with the nuances of domestic relationships - suburban hanky-panky - chic boutique shopping mall literary soap opera. When they do speak out on matters of controversy they attack not the evils of our time but fellow writers who may insist on complaining.”

MayMatterStoriesTodayEvilSpeakNovelRiversFellowsMajorityComplainingChosenResistanceObsessedOur TimeShort StoryShoppingOperaPassiveControversySoapAngstMallsNuanceSpeaks OutSoap OperasChicAmerican WriterCascadeSloughAnomie
Book:One Life at a Time, Please
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