Michael Haneke Quotes

Cutting pain was a different flavor of hurt. It made it easier not to think about having my body and my family and my life stolen, made it easier not to care... -Wintergirls

Our rages, daughters of despair, creep and squirm like worms. Prayer is the only form of revolt which remains upright.

The husk could be some useless bloke or losing myself and changing my DNA with bottomless grief.

She could not trust herself to hope—but without hope, she realized, she had no reason to go on.

I wanted to cry but I didn't, I probably should have cried, I should have drowned us there in the room ending our suffering.

So sad! This is the saddest part when you lose someone you love- that person keeps changing. And later you wonder, Is this the same person I lost?

It was heartbreaking . . . I think it was disappointing because I had such an identity in being 'Mrs. Parker', and being a wife, and so when that's taken away from you, you [think], 'Who am I?

I feel very troubled in the head and heart.

There's a lot of effort expended once you begin to completely trash your life. Sometimes, writing feels like this to me.

I'm sure I can't relate to what females go through in Hollywood, but I do know what it feels like to eat emotionally. To be sad and make yourself happy with food, and then be almost immediately sad again, and then ashamed. Then, you try to hide those feelings with more food.

Agonies are one of my changes of garments.

Neurotic quarrels always have the same theme-song: Hate me and get it over with.

Fear can supplant our real problems only to the extent -unwilling either to assimilate or to exhaust it -we perpetuate it within ourselves like a temptation and enthrone it at the very heart of our solitude.

Each day the memories weigh a little heavier. Each day they drag you down that bit further. You wind them around you, a single thread at a time, and you weave your own shroud, you build a cocoon, and in it madness grows.

Lost, so small amid that dark, hands grown cold, body image fading down corridors of television sky.

I went through this difficult time [in the 1984] when we were making our third record where I kind of lost my mind. That's when the bulimia kicked in. And that's when I got really freaky.

I'm scared of him," said Piggy, "and that's why I know him. If you're scared of someone you hate him but you can't stop thinking about him. You kid yourself he's all right really, an' then when you see him again; it's like asthma an' you can't breathe.

Can calm despair and wild unrest Be tenants of a single breast, Or sorrow such a changeling be?

This is not the person I wanted to become: Hatred has carved a permanent place inside me, a hollow where things are so easily lost.

For trash and toys, And grief-engend'ring joys, What torment seems too sharp for flesh and blood; What bitter pills, Compos'd of real ills, Men swallow down to purchase one false good!

I am forced, as I have often said, to try to make myself laugh, that I may not cry: for one or other I must do.

I don't know what's wrong with me. It's like all I can do is keep writing this gibberish to keep from breaking apart.

I can't live without you or with you.

Red and raw like my brain, unable to shut down, thoughts crashing like electrons orbiting a nucleus of deuling emotions.