Stephanie Mills Quotes

I have so many moments. I am extremely passionate about life and at the same time, I'm always depressed, so everything's always happening at the same time for me. It's the best day and the worst day too.

From the heart of the fountain of delight rises a jet of bitterness that tortures us among the very flowers.

We must love, as looking one day to hate.

Doubt is thought's despair; despair is personality's doubt. . . . Doubt and despair . . . belong to completely different spheres; different sides of the soul are set in motion. . . . Despair is an expression of the total personality, doubt only of thought.

That is what chills your spine when you read an account of a suicide: not the frail corpse hanging from the window bars but what happened inside that heart immediately before.

(Such a life)engaged gross quantities of hope and despair and set them wildly side by side, like a Third World country of the heart.

I have just now come from a party where I was its life and soul; witticisms streamed from my lips, everyone laughed and admired me, but I went away - yes, the dash should be as long as the radius of the earth's orbit ——————————— and wanted to shoot myself.

Despair is the price one pays for setting oneself an impossible aim. It is, one is told, the unforgivable sin, but it is a sin the corrupt or evil man never practices. He always has hope. He never reaches the freezing-point of knowing absolute failure. Only the man of goodwill carries always in his heart this capacity for damnation.

In the hearts of witches, love and hate lie close together and often tumble over each other.

In one moment I was feeling everything and I was feeling nothing.

A frightening menagerie, my emotions are Too many and varied to number Like creatures they crawl and they fly above Tearing my body asunder.

Sometimes, I feel like I can do anything, and, sometimes, I'm so alive, sometimes, I feel like I could zoom across the sky and, sometimes, I wanna cry.

The human heart is a strange vessel. Love and hatred can exist side by side.

Love gives us copious potions of delight, Of pain and ecstasy, and peace and care; Love leads us upward, to the mountain height, And, like an angel, stands beside us there; Then thrusts us, demon-like, in some abyss: Where, in the darkness of despair, we grope, Till, suddenly, Love greets us with a kiss And guides us back to flowery fields of hope.

Disbelief held me down inside my footsteps, making my body heavy but my heart wild.

The jealous have but moments of Delight for years of Pain.

Inside it drives me crazy, my insecurities could eat me alive.

Why does the mind do such things? Turn on us, rend us, dig the claws in. If you get hungry enough, they say, you start eating your own heart. Maybe it's much the same.

You spend so much time, so much effort, trying to hold yourself together. And then everything falls apart anyway.

Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting That would not let me sleep.

I do not speak as I think, I do not think as I should, and so it all goes on in helpless darkness.

When I'm carried away, isn't it clear that my heart contradicts my mouth?

And so I leave this world, where the heart must either break or turn to lead (suicide note)

I want, I don’t want. How can one live with such a heart?