angst

Mandy, I hardly think this was appropriate, not after_ you know_ after the funeral we haven__ had the money for any of your weird little games and I was hoping you__ be more mature now that Jud__ gone,_ her father had disappointedly added. __ow much__ that cake cost you?___t__ paid for,_ Mandy had argued, but her voice had sounded tiny in the harbour wind. __ used the cash from my summer job at Frenchy__ last year and I_ it was my birthday, dad!___ou can__ even be normal about this one thing, can you?_ her father had complained.Mandy hadn__ cried, she__ only stared back knowingly, her voice shaky. __I__ normal.

Pain dutifully reminds me that the world is terribly imperfect, but it faithfully helps me appreciate the world on those days when it__ a little closer to being perfect.

If you can find happiness inside of you, nothing will be able to create angst in your mind.

Tragedy cleans the windows of the soul by washing away the bias of our lives in the detergent of pain.

I just wonder_ Isn__ it better to start as a monster and become a hero? Isn__ that what creates belief? The idea that someone can change?

The letter had been crumpled up and tossed onto the grate. It had burned all around the edges, so the names at the top and bottom had gone up in smoke. But there was enough of the bold black scrawl to reveal that it had indeed been a love letter. And as Hannah read the singed and half-destroyed parchment, she was forced to turn away to hide the trembling of her hand. __hould warn you that this letter will not be eloquent. However, it will be sincere, especially in light of the fact that you will never read it. I have felt these words like a weight in my chest, until I find myself amazed that a heart can go on beating under such a burden. I love you. I love you desperately, violently, tenderly, completely. I want you in ways that I know you would find shocking. My love, you don't belong with a man like me. In the past I've done things you wouldn't approve of, and I've done them ten times over. I have led a life of immoderate sin. As it turns out, I'm just as immoderate in love. Worse, in fact. I want to kiss every soft place of you, make you blush and faint, pleasure you until you weep, and dry every tear with my lips. If you only knew how I crave the taste of you. I want to take you in my hands and mouth and feast on you. I want to drink wine and honey from you. I want you under me. On your back. I'm sorry. You deserve more respect than that. But I can't stop thinking of it. Your arms and legs around me. Your mouth, open for my kisses. I need too much of you. A lifetime of nights spent between your thighs wouldn't be enough. I want to talk with you forever. I remember every word you've ever said to me. If only I could visit you as a foreigner goes into a new country, learn the language of you, wander past all borders into every private and secret place, I would stay forever. I would become a citizen of you.And there it stopped.

After all, there was something rather pleasant in knowing that you were misunderstood. It made you feel different from everyone else.

Americans invented adolescence. It is not a natural phenomenon. Adolescence is a social construct, created by an urban-industrial society that keeps its young at home far past puberty. Teenage angst is a luxury if a successful modern human conceit that isn't condoned by our superior species.

As women glide from their twenties to thirties, Shazzer argues, the balance of power subtly shifts. Even the most outrageous minxes lose their nerve, wrestling with the first twinges of existential angst: fears of dying alone and being found three weeks later half-eaten by an Alsatian.

I wish I could run away,_ Rudger told Jersey as they both rushed in and out of various patients_ rooms, darting around like little ants. __ can__ leave and be on my own though, not right now, anyway.___hy?_ asked Jersey, waving her flashlight in mid-air.Rudger froze for a second, a regretful haze emanating from his eyes. __t__ break her heart if I left.___in__ that normal? For parents to have mixed feelings about their kids growin_ up?___ot for me, it isn__.__ersey made a pitying face in his direction. __o, you wanna keep bein_ towed around with your mom, livin_ in a gross town like Danvers?___s there a choice?___eah, there sure is. You can run away and try to be a whole person before it__ too late, or you can live with mommy dearest forever and turn into Norman Bates.

Pain was a torn piece of paper.

Because I can't help doing it," he said with a shrug. "And hey, if I keep loving you, maybe you'll eventually crack and love me too. Hell, I'm pretty sure you're already half in love with me.""I am not! And everything you just said is ridiculous. That's terrible logic."Adrian returned to his crossword puzzle. "Well, you can think what you want, so long as you remember-no matter how ordinary things seem between us-I'm still here, still in love with you, and care about you more than any other guy, evil or otherwise, ever will.""I don't think you're evil.""See? Things are already looking promising.

Love alone means nothing unless you have a tortured heart for it to soothe.

A disastrous flaw in our design is that the heart always defies the brain.

Just friends, just friends. Standing there in the bookstore, watching Seth walk away, I half wondered how anyone could still use that line. But I knew why, of course. It was used because people still believed it. Or at least they wanted to.

Obama's stern demeanor punctuated by intermittent flashes of his wide, relaxing smile is his greatest weapon in defusing pent-up angst.

I was a quiet teenager, introverted, full of angst.

Up in the distance the whistle of the wind sang to her from the mountain. From Lucian__ mountain. It beckoned and taunted and she wanted to run towards it. To be enveloped in its coat of fleece and to hear its safe sounds.