Anne Fortier Quotes

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.

All the Hennessy and weed can't hide, the pain i feel inside, its like I'm living just to die.

For death is not the worst, but when one wants to die and is not able even to have that.

Death is easier than a wretched life; and better never to have born than to live and fare badly.

We might as well die as to go on living like this.

She made the decision that her existence had lost its meaning. And you cannot judge that.

Let me die because I do not want to see the sun again.

Living, it's awful for me.

Man is born in a day, and he dies in a day, and the thing is easily over; but to have a sick heart for three-fourths of one's lifetime is simply to have death renewed every morning; and life at that price is not worth living.

I'm worth more dead than alive. Don't cry for me after I'm gone; cry for me now.

I always wished I had died, and I still wish that, because I could have gotten the whole thing over with.

Did I pray for death? I did one time. I wanted to die so badly. And I didn't want to die. I wanted to rest, you know. And I knew the only rest I would find is in death.

But how to explain suffering because of a man? It's not explainable. With that kind of suffering, a person feels as if they're in hell, because there is no nobility, no greatness - only misery.

I'd like a drink. I desire to forget life. Life is a hideous invention by somebody I don't know. It doesn't last, and it's good for nothing. You break your neck simply living.

Well' Francie decided, 'I guess the thing that is giving me this headache is life - and nothing else but'.

I wake up in the morning and ask myself; is life worth living? Should I blast myself?

The absence of the will to live is, alas, not sufficient to make one want to die.

During depression the world disappears. Language itself. One has nothing to say. Nothing. No small talk, no anecdotes. Nothing can be risked on the board of talk. Because the inner voice is so urgent in its own discourse: How shall I live? How shall I manage the future? Why should I go on?

When life is so burdensome death has become a sought after refuge.

The more unhappy you are, the more miserable you are, the more you're going to suffer.

My day passes between logic, whistling, going for walks, and being depressed. I wish to God that I were more intelligent and everything would finally become clear to me - or else that I needn't live much longer.

We’ve died so many times now that we can only wonder why we still care.

And an inky-colored despair of rejection enveloped me like the black tortilla of depression around a pain burrito.

Hope is the most sensitive part of a poor wretch's soul; whoever raises it only to torment him is behaving like the executioners in Hell who, they say, incessantly renew old wounds and concentrate their attention on that area of it that is already lacerated.

Life ain't fair. It ain't. Not never. It's pointless and stupid and there's only suffering and pain and people who want to hurt you. You can't love nothing or no one cuz it'll all be taken away or ruined and you'll be left alone and constantly having to fight, constantly having to run just to stay alive.