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

To be lost in spiritlessness is the most terrible thing of all.

All dark, all bloody, my heart,

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.

Of most dreadful suffering, I am the cause.

In agony unknown He bleeds away His life; in terrible throes He exhausts His soul. "Eloi! Eloi! lama sabachthani?" And then see! they pierce His side, and forthwith runneth out blood and water! This is the shedding of blood, the terrible pouring out of blood, without which, for you and the whole human race, there is no remission.

War, dreadful war, and Tiber flood
I see incarnadined with blood.

It is hopelessness even more than pain that crushes the soul.

I still think that the greatest suffering is being lonely, feeling unloved, just having no one... That is the worst disease that any human being can ever experience.

To suffer terribly and to know yourself as the cause: that is Hell.

The blood flowed freely in my veins, but a weight of despair and remorse pressed on my heart, which nothing could remove.

I blush to think of our origins—our hands are steeped in blood and crime. And there is no letup to the slaughter and pillage.

There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.

The blues was bleeding the same blood as me.