Mark Haddon Quotes

Sitting and waiting for something to happen was the worst kind of torture.

I know firsthand how agonizing waiting can be.

I cannot bear to live where there is so much injustice and I cannot do something about it. What kind of a torturous life is that?

Angel screeched with fury and despair to the empty walls around her. "I'm human, do you hear me? It hurts!

My pain is constant and sharp...this confession has meant nothing

Waiting is one of life’s hardships.

The pleasure of despair. But then, it is in despair that we find the most acute pleasure, especially when we are aware of the hopelessness of the situation... ...everything is a mess in which it is impossible to tell what's what, but that despite this impossibility and deception it still hurts you, and the less you can understand, the more it hurts.

Of all the hardships a person had to face, none was more punishing than the simple act of waiting.

I find waiting unbearable because it makes me passive and negates me. I hate being nothing.

I have always found it difficult to wait for things - whether it was to see my father or sailor brother, Alan, again after their long sea trips, or the chance of a better job, or even new curtains.

In the country of pain we are each alone.

The human heart dares not stay away too long from that which hurt it most. There is a return journey to anguish that few of us are released from making.

I have no mouth, and I must scream.

Waiting makes me restless. When I'm ready, I'm ready.

I speak of a clinical depression that is the background of your entire life, a background of anguish and anxiety, a sense that nothing goes well, that pleasure is unavailable and all your strategies collapse.

I think I've always been waiting for things to happen.

Pain - that is what life is about, isn't it? Suffering with moments of reprieve.

Suffering does not change its face.

I feel hurt and pain times a million, all the time.

there is nothing to be done. only accept it... and hurt.

What's the use of watching? A watched pot never boils.

We stay in the house so much because I am waiting for the telephone. I seem to be back in my teens, a period I thought I would never have to endure again: my life is spent hoping for things that only someone else can bring about.

When I'm in pain and grief and despair, my throat is clenched and my heart hurts.

Pain is unjust, and all the arguments That cannot soothe it only rouse suspicion.