Best 203 quotes in «angst quotes» category

I've even purposely looked for stories full of exactly this kind of angst, because I love the emotion behind it so much.

Love alone means nothing unless you have a tortured heart for it to soothe.

Maar voor diegenen onder ons die door het leven verwond zijn en wier littekens nog niet zijn geheeld, kan het pijnlijk en angstwekkend zijn om zich naar hun binnenste te keren. In zo'n geval is de toegang tot onze innerlijke bron van coherentie geblokkeerd. Zoiets gebeurt meestal als gevolg van een trauma waarbij de emoties zo overweldigend waren dat het emotionele brein en dus het hart niet meer functioneren zoals daarvoor. Dan zijn ze geen kompas meer, maar als een vlag in een wervelwind. Dan is er een andere manier om evenwicht te hervinden, een even verbazingwekkende als effectieve methode, die zijn oorsprong vindt in het mechanisme van de droom: de neuro-emotionele integratie door oogbewegingen.

Mandy, I hardly think this was appropriate, not after… you know… after the funeral we haven’t had the money for any of your weird little games and I was hoping you’d be more mature now that Jud’s gone,” her father had disappointedly added. “How much’d that cake cost you?” “It’s paid for,” Mandy had argued, but her voice had sounded tiny in the harbour wind. “I used the cash from my summer job at Frenchy’s last year and I… it was my birthday, dad!” “You can’t even be normal about this one thing, can you?” her father had complained. Mandy hadn’t cried, she’d only stared back knowingly, her voice shaky. “…I’m normal.

Manchmal bauen Leute Schutzwälle um sich auf, nicht nur um andere draußen zu halten, sondern auch, um zu sehen, ob sich irgendwer bemüht, sie einzureißen.

Masken sind eigensinnig. Trägst Du sie nur um einen Tick zu lange, wirst du sie nie wieder vollständig los. Etwas von ihnen bleibt an dir hängen.

Mel rolled her eyes. "You can't live your life based on 'what-ifs,' Liv. And change is inevitable. It's the one thing you can always count on. Stop worrying about what might or not happen and follow your heart. How can you expect to ever be happy if you don't?

Mostly she just missed Vaughn. Missed all those quiet, unspectacular moments that, when added up, showed how entwined their lives had become. And right now, she missed being able to phone him, because it would be so easy to tap in the eleven digits that would put his voice on the line. ‘Grace, about bloody time,’ he’d say, and make it sound like an endearment. But she couldn’t call Vaughn, because she’d left him. Which was a novelty, until Grace remembered that he’d have left her eventually if she hadn’t done it first. She was never the one. She was never even the one before the one. She was the girl who seemed like a good idea at the time, but ultimately was just a phase that people went through. That was the way it had always been. Friends and lovers came and went because there was something about her which repelled them, and she didn’t have a clue what it was. It was a mystery that she couldn’t solve on her own, and there wasn’t a single person in the world who could help . . .

My chest ached, my body speaking a language my head didn't quite understand.

Name's Braxxon baby and I wanna touch an angel"- Braxxon

Nicht immer brauchst du Zellen, Gitter oder Stacheldraht, um Menschen gefangen zu halten. Meistens tut es auch Angst.

Once upon a time, there was a naïve and innocent girl who thought she could tame the beast and live happily ever after. But the beast did not want to be tamed, for he was a beast and beasts care not for such things, and the girl died along with her dreams. From childhood's grave sprang a young woman, jaded before her years, who knew that beasts could wear the skins of men, and that evil could exist in sunlight, as well as darkness. Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose.

I wish I could run away,” Rudger told Jersey as they both rushed in and out of various patients’ rooms, darting around like little ants. “I can’t leave and be on my own though, not right now, anyway.” “Why?” asked Jersey, waving her flashlight in mid-air. Rudger froze for a second, a regretful haze emanating from his eyes. “It’d break her heart if I left.” “Ain’t that normal? For parents to have mixed feelings about their kids growin’ up?” “Not for me, it isn’t.” Jersey made a pitying face in his direction. “So, you wanna keep bein’ towed around with your mom, livin’ in a gross town like Danvers?” “Is there a choice?” “Yeah, there sure is. You can run away and try to be a whole person before it’s too late, or you can live with mommy dearest forever and turn into Norman Bates.

Living people are a dying breed.

Love, he thinks, is a lie that people tell each other in order to make the world bearable. He is not up for the lie anymore. And nobody is going to lie to him like that, anyway. He's not even worth a lie.

Manche Namen sind so gefährlich, dass wir es nicht wagen, sie laut auszusprechen oder sie auch nur zu flüstern, aus Angst ihre dunkle Magie zu wecken. Nur Narren fürchten sich nicht vor einem Namen

Maybe he would see me as weak and stupid. Maybe he was right.

Meine Kindheit lauert in mir, wie geballte Fäuste in meinen Händen lauern

Moed is niet het gebrek aan angst, maar het besef dat er iets is wat belangrijker is dan angst.

Mothers! They promise you they'll never get married again, and next thing you know you're a bridesmaid.

Never again. I’m done. This is the last time I will ever have this feeling.

Nobody should have to choose between a cold heart and a dead heart.

No matter where I went, where I’ve gone, what I’ve seen and what I’ve done…you have never not been wit’ me. You’ve always been my home.

No. This would be better as a team." She dragged her top drawer open, rooted out her aspirin. "I should have fired her weeks ago. You were right about that. I was wrong." "I need to write this down. Can I borrow a pencil?" "Shut up." Grateful that his easy calm steadied her, she heaved a breath, then twisted open a bottle of water. "Tell me straight out, Ty, what you think of the centennial campaign

Not your distress. Never that. I loved— I loved being there. Next to you. The pile of limbs that was Us. Together in the same bed. Even if it meant waking up with a few new bruises.

Once you let in the word, once you allow it to take root, it will spread like a mold through all of your corners and dark spaces— and with it, the questions, the shivery, splintered fears, enough to keep you permanently awake.

Our angst springs from coming from South Wales. It's a longing encapsulated in the Welsh word "hireath". The Irish can usually see the better side of things, they have a sense of wonder. The Welsh don't. We think everything is going to turn out shit.

Pain was a torn piece of paper.

Sag bloss, du hattest Angst um mich", necke ich ihn, ohne mich zu rühren. Chase stößt einen leichten Fluch aus. "Hattest du keine?

See me. See the real me. See my nightmare with me." ~ Andrew

Seeing the mud around a lotus is pessimism, seeing a lotus in the mud is optimism.

Schreeuwen heeft geen zin, er is niemand die je hier kan horen," zegt de man nog.

Smutek saß einfach da, betäubt vom Lärm in seinem Inneren.

She wanted, with her fickleness, to make my destruction constant; I want, by trying to destroy myself, to satisfy her desire.

She personified her name in everything she did. Even when we would row, her words were deftly chosen and spoken rather like an intricate dance. And I so loved to dance with her.

She’s having a party, you know. This coming week.” He took a sip of wine. “I know. I received an invitation this morning before you arrived. According to her flowing prose, I am to be the guest of honor.” He shuddered. Miranda couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, my mother is quite taken with you now that you’re assisting us financially. I’m sure she’ll fawn over you all evening.” He downed the remainder of his wine in one swig. “Dear God, now I wish I hadn’t accepted the invitation.” She giggled at his twisted, pained expression. “Oh, of course you must come. Drink the wine, appreciate the orchestra. After all, you’re paying for it.” Ethan’s expression went from a playfully pained one to a truly pained one for a brief instant. His frown drew down and he looked at her evenly. “No, Miranda. I believe it is you who are paying,” he said softly.

She very much feared that if she stayed with Maximus, this awful taint – this terribly wrong act – would, day by day, year by year, wear at her until she was no more than a ghost of her former self. She saw need when she looked into his eyes, but was there any love as well? Had she discarded Penelope’s friendship for a man who didn’t, in the end, truly care for her? For she loved him, she realized now, in this brightly lit garden, of all places, with his future wife, her cousin, by her side. She loved Maximus totally and completely, with all of her bitter, broken heart, and she did not know if it was enough for the two of them.

Soli fjella, glein og glatt, fjell står att og stengjer … Alt er tagna. Ned kjem natt på breie, svarte vengjer, då vaknar dulde strengjer. Og Sátan kjem med all sin her, og Himmelørn og Herrens vêr, og angest-orm, og eld og storm, og lògen stri’r som villast, og det er natt som stillast.

Somehow, getting closer than humanly possible drove us further apart than we've ever been.

Stacey muttered, "But I hate this school, and this city, and the sooner I leave, the better. I want to start over in a new place. I haven't . . ." her voice trailed off and she looked away from Jason, hoping instead to find her words among the falling raindrops. "Do you ever feel like you aren't the person you're supposed to be? That you could be a different person - and have a better life - if things had been just a little different?

…So, um, you’re from Rochester? Like, New York?” Jersey asked. “Yup, we used to live out there,” Rudger confirmed, nonchalant. “You ever been?” “Naw, the closest I’ve ever been to there would be… well, believe it or not, New Jersey, the place where my parents named me after. It was crowded, polluted and full of crime… I loved it.

There's a special quality to the loneliness of dusk, a melancholy more brooding even than the night's.

Teeth gritted, he gazed down at me. "Now that I come to think about it. I'm not real keen on your eye color, either. What do you call that shade of green? Fungus?

That's not cruel. This is. You come here in the middle of the night, expecting me to be awake, and ask—no, demand—me to give you things that belong to me as much as they belong to you. Never mind what it does to me. Never mind that each time I see you, I wonder if I'll ever hold you in my arms again, or be able to touch you without you cringing away like I'm a monster. I think it's fair to ask if there's an 'us,' my dear, because I suspect you're trying to use me just now. Tell me that's not cruel, and I'll let you go.

The moment he laid eyes on Kuga, I knew. There's a reason I'm doing this to him. I want to see it; how he's fallen in love with a guy, and how he makes him his own. And then what I've done will become a sharp knife, thrown right back at me. That's right. I just wanted to see. And the meaning behind the sharp knife flying towards me: Why not me? Why can't it be me? All this time, I would be lying if I said I've never wished for it, but by being merely an observer, I've somehow managed to distance myself. Kuga is a bright light, like the sun. I, on the other hand... (Yashiro)

The person she liked best didn't like her enough to want more of her, and she didn't want to pretend that wasn't awful.

The first woman president has to happen in my lifetime, or I'm going to light this entire planet on fire.

The honeymoon phase was over. He still called me his girl, still held me like I meant everything and I really wanted to believe he was still completely here with me. I looked over his body and at his sleeping face. I slowly moved out of his bed, and tip toed to the bathroom where I fell to the tiled floor and sobbed.

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.

There is something so comforting about finding your changed self in a familiar place, as if the background noise vanished leaving you alone to unravel your own turmoil.