Charles Wesley Quotes

I have the true feeling of myself only when I am unbearably unhappy.

Fans say I have a lot of sorrow in my eyes. It's true.

Living, it's awful for me.

Oh, what a void there is in things.

Emptiness will always cripple me.

Once upon a time there was a lady. She had no children, and no happiness either. And at first she cried for a long time, but then she became wicked.

Spiritual emptiness is a universal disease.

Until the bitter end, the emptiness inside her was hers alone.

Unhappiness was my god.

My greatest affliction... is perhaps the major theme of my writings, the affliction of loneliness that follows me like a shadow, a very ponderous shadow too heavy to drag after me all of my days and nights.

I wonder if anyone will ever know the emptiness of my life. Personal Diary -- Last entry Oh whats the point?

I am so fed up and joyless that not only have I nothing to fill my soul, I cannot even conceive of anything that could possibly satisfy it - alas, not even the bliss of heaven.

Social life is filled with doubts and vain aspirings; solitude, when the imagination is dethroned, is turned to weariness and ennui.

Hell is not in torture; Hell is in an empty heart.

Emptiness and boredom: what a complete understatement. What I felt was complete desolation. Desolation, despair and boredom.

The Loneliness One dare not sound -- And would as soon surmise AS in its Grave go plumbing To ascertain the size -- The Loneliness whose worst alarm Is lest itself should see -- And perish from before itself For just a scrutiny -- The Horror not to be surveyed -- But skirted in the Dark -- With Consciousness suspended -- And Being under Lock -- I fear me this -- is Loneliness -- The Maker of the soul Its Caverns and its Corridors Illuminate -- or seal

This world that I live in is empty and cold/the loneliness cuts me and tortures my soul.

When he has lost all hope, all object in life, man becomes a monster in his misery.

She cried for herself, she cried because she was afraid that she herself might die in the night, because she was alone in the world, because her desperate and empty life was not an overture but an ending, and through it all she could see was the rough, brutal shape of a coffin.

Yes, there is joy, fulfillment and companionship but the loneliness of the soul in its appalling self-consciousness is horrible and overpowering.

I wasn’t lonely. I experienced no self-pity. I was just caught up in a life in which I could find no meaning.

She had spent all her life in feeling miserable; this misery was her native element; its fluctuations, its varying depths, alone save her the impression of moving and living. What bothers me is that a sense of misery, and nothing else, is not enough to make a permanent soul. My enormous and morose Mademoiselle is all right on earth but impossible in eternity.

Freddie experienced the sort of abysmal soul-sadness which afflicts one of Tolstoy's Russian peasants when, after putting in a heavy day's work strangling his father, beating his wife, and dropping the baby into the city's reservoir, he turns to the cupboards, only to find the vodka bottle empty.