Joe Abercrombie Quotes

When Jared smiled, his teeth were stained with fresh scarlet. "Don't you hate me?" he demanded. "I'd hate me." "You just tried to drown yourself," Ash said. "You seem to hate yourself plenty already.

I was so ashamed of it that I would spend hours in the shower crying and trying to wash my skin off.

I hate myself for loving you and the weakness that it showed. You were just a painted face on a trip down to suicide road.

Broke with nothing to live for and damn ready to die young. I'm the shadow behind the gun, look what I've become.

There is no power on earth that can loosen a man's grip on his own throat

There is no need for me to curse you -the murderer survives the victim only to learn that it was himself that he longed to be rid of. Hatred is self-hatred.

If you want to beat me up, feel free. You cannot beat me up more than I have already beaten up myself.

There was three or four years of my life where I hated myself and you know, would have quite happily ended it.

The darkest moments for me weren't necessarily winding up in the hospital or anything like that. It was those quiet moments alone when I just hated the person I had become.

It got to a point where I didn't care if I lived or I died.

How could you not want to draw breath one more day? How could your own life be such a cheap commodity? But then I started to understand: when your existence is hell, death must be heaven.

I hate myself, and I want to die

Once upon a time there was a girl who wanted to put her fist through a mirror. She would tell everyone it was so that she could see what was on the other side, but really, it was so that she wouldn't have to look at herself. That, and because she thought she might be able to steal a piece of glass when no one was looking, and use it to carve her heart out of her chest.

She was as one who, in madness, was resolute to throw herself from a precipice, but to whom some remnant of sanity remained which forced her to seek those who would save her from herself.

Only self-hatred could lead him to ruin himself because his heart was "broken.

The violence done us by others is often less painful than that which we do to ourselves.

I am accused. I dream of massacres. I am a garden of black and red agonies. I drink them, Hating myself, hating and fearing. And now the world conceives Its end and runs toward it, arms held out in love.

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.

I’ve blamed her for all of this, for leaving, for ruining me. And maybe that was the seed of it, but from that one little seed grew this tumor of a flowering plant. And I’m the one who nurtures it. I water it. I care for it.I nibble from its poison berries. I let it wrap around my neck, choking the air right out of me. I’ve done that. All by myself. All to myself.

I fell into shame like a suicide throws herself into a river. (253)

Examples one finds in the philosophical literature are somebody who's seen the trial of a child of theirs, where they're being proved guilty of some crime that would drive the parent into a depression, maybe a suicidal depression.

Debauchery is perhaps an act of despair in the face of infinity.

My own life was filled with so much love and joy that when depression struck, it was like a prison door slamming shut and I was being placed in an isolation cell. No one else could possibly be feeling what I was. I hated my depression and all of its symptoms.

I think to be driven to want to kill must be such a terrible burden.

When we cannot be delivered from ourselves, we delight in devouring ourselves.