Anguish and despair had penetrated into the core of my heart; I bore a hell within me, which nothing could extinguish.

There is something at work in my soul, which I do not understand.

Everything in the world displeases me: but, above all, my displeasure in everything displeases me.

I feel an unhappiness which almost dismembers me, and at the same time am convinced of its necessity

I shall be called discontented. I could not help it: the restlessness was in my nature; it agitated me to pain sometimes.

…what I am aches in me.

Unhappiness was my god.

Within me burns a flame which has been passed from generations uncounted and its heat is a constant irritation to my spirit to become better than I am, and I will.

There is always something missing that torments me.

Nevertheless, I have a very reprehensible way of heating at times in the midst of my own misery: and, unless when I am checked by some powerful feelings, I am afraid I shall be guilty of this indecent practice even in these annals of suffering or enjoyment

There is no health in those who are displeased by an element in Your creation, just as there was none in me when I was displeased by many things You had made. Because my soul didn't dare to say that my God displeased me, it refused to attribute to You whatever was displeasing.

deep inside me there's a perpetual seething, like the bottom of a geyser, and I keep hoping that things will come to an eruption once and for all, so that I can turn into a different person.

What you must understand about me is that I’m a deeply unhappy person.

There is something in us that keeps us where we find ourselves. I think this is the most awful thing of all.