John Milton Quotes

I think hell is something you carry around with you, not somewhere you go.

An inner darkness is darker than an outer darkness.

I knew that I could hate him all I wanted for the way he was hurting me, but I couldn’t ever stop loving him, absolutely, for what he was.

I still dwelled deep in my elected paradise--a paradise whose skies were the color of hell-flames--but still a paradise.

There is no hell, no inferno except the frenzy of living.

I can't shove the dark out of my way.

You have so much pain inside yourself that you try & hurt yourself on the outside because you want help.

Maybe my great struggle, and it's probably not anything different from too many other people, but it certainly is what drives the music, is a hugely internal one.

I love characters that are going through turmoil. To be honest, I love characters with conflict. I love characters who are really going through an emotional journey; whether it's a super-dark-crazy journey or a really relatable guy.

Oh, my darling, wish you were here! And my dark soul is happy again, because it does not know how to be anything else for very long, and because the pain is a deep dark sea in which I would drown if I did not sail my little craft steadily over the surface, steadily towards a sun which will never rise.

Whatever causes night in our souls may leave stars. Cimourdain was full of virtues and truth, but they shine out of a dark background.

I struggled to find the words to name the feelings that flooded through me, but I had no words strong enough to hold them. For a long moment, I drowned in them. When I surfaced, I was not the same man I had been. My life was an unending, unchanging midnight. It must, by necessity, always be midnight for me. So how was it possible that the sun was rising now, in the middle of my midnight?

There are moments of despair that come sometimes, when night sets in and a white fog presses against the windows. Then our house changes its shape, rears up and becomes a place of despair. Then fear and rage run simply--and the thought of Death as a friend. This is the simplest of thoughts, that Death must come when we call, although he is a god.

That's what happens if you don't address the darkness in you. You become repressed and depressed and suicidal.

And the light by which she had read the book filled with troubles, falsehoods, sorrow, and evil, flared up more brightly than ever before, lighted up for her all that had been in darkness, flickered, began to grow dim, and was quenched forever.

The silence was unbearable to him. If the pictures could have reflected the feelings inside him, they would have been screaming in pain.

The enemy is within, and within stays within, and we can't get out of within.

You can be strapped to the most stable chair and still feel the world give way beneath you.

It's as if a child with a brush and too much enthusiasm has been set free with a tin of black paint inside me.

Potential unexpressed turns to pain.

Only the descent into the hell of self-knowledge can pave the way to godliness.

They build their own Hells.

What I try to write about are the darkest things in the soul, the mortal dreads... The closer I get to the burning core of my being, the things which are most painful to me, the better is my work.

Man needs to suffer. When he does not have real griefs he creates them.