Glenn Danzig Quotes

The dead are happy, having no desire. I rise and fall, and rise and fall again, Something is in me, famishing for bread, Baffled and unappeasable as fire.

To caress the serpent that devours us, until it has eaten away our heart.

How could I know a famished heart will eat its mind? Can kill its body?

She nourishes the poison in her veins and is consumed by a secret fire.

He looks at you like you're someone he's never met before, much less someone he once loved with high passion. The irony is, you can hardly blame him. I mean, check yourself out. You're a pathetic mess, unrecognizable even to your own eyes.

You would love the way he sees you. He uses you as a weapon against himself and not merely because you did

It is our own evil thoughts which madden us.

Each of us has something within us which won't be denied, even if it makes us scream aloud to die. We are what we are, that's all. Like the old Celtic legend of the bird with the thorn in its breast, singing its heart out and dying. Because it has to, its self-knowledge can't affect or change the outcome, can it? Everyone singing his own little song, convinced it's the most wonderful song the world has ever heard. Don't you see? We create our own thorns, and never stop to count the cost. All we can do is suffer the pain, and tell ourselves it was well worth it.

A dissolute character is more dissolute in thought than in deed. And the same is true of violence. Our violence in word and deed is but a feeble echo of the surging violence of thought in us.

Even ministers of good things are like torches, a light to others, waste and destruction to themselves.

The surest source of destruction to men is to obey themselves.

The man who sailed around his soul From East to West, from pole to pole With ego as his drunken captain Greed, the mutineer, had trapped all reason in the hold

God defend me from myself.

In the end you will be your own undoing. You can't escape you.

I will no longer mutilate and destroy myself in order to find a secret behind the ruins.

Some of her self-hatred had oozed out with the blood.

Pity for him who one day looks uponhis inward sphinx and questions it. He is lost.

The greatest slave is not he who is ruled by a despot, great though that evil be, but he who is in the thrall of his own moral ignorance, selfishness, and vice.

Under conditions of peace the warlike man attacks himself.

Give not thyself up, then, to fire, lest it invert thee, deaden thee, as for the time it did me. There is a wisdom that is woe; but there is a woe that is madness.

Bitterness is the trap that snares the hunter

by making himself a priest made himself a demon.

While the things I do kill me, they just tell me to relax

Sense (for a particular art, science, human being, and so forth) is divided spirit; self-restraint is consequently the result of self-creation and self-destruction.

In reality of everyday occurrences I've had to submit to people in order not to lose them. It's less the submission that bothers me, I guess, than how it makes my life miserable. And what happens if I can't forgive myself for making that choice? And what if, in order to keep on living, I have to continue to accept myself? What am I supposed to do? Conclusion: It'd be best if I'm destroyed. The best thing is for me just to vanish.