A Quote by Robert Lowell

I myself am hell;
nobody's here — © Robert Lowell
I myself am hell; nobody's here
I am not like other people. I am burning in hell. The hell of myself.
Which way I fly is Hell; myself am Hell.
I just had - we had instances - like, for instance, when I turned 13, she threw me a bar mitzvah. But nobody came.But nobody came because nobody knew what the hell that was. I only had black friends. No one knows what the hell you're doing.
So - here I am in the dark alone, There's nobody here to see; I think to myself, I play to myself, And nobody knows what I say to myself; Here I am in the dark alone, What is it going to be? I can think whatever I like to think, I can play whatever I like to play, I can laugh whatever I like to laugh, There's nobody here but me.
I choose to ignore hell in my life. When I was a little kid I asked my Dad "Am I going to go to hell?" because I'd heard about hell. And he said, "Nothing you're gonna do will get you into hell." And so I got to ignore it.
I would never kill myself intentionally. I couldn't do that to my family, my friends ... But to have fate step in and give me a shove, that's a different matter. Then I have the exit, without the guilt. I am ashamed of myself for thinking like this. But more than anything, I am frightened that it makes me feel so much better to think about it. Sometimes it eases the terror, the sense that I am condemned eternally to this hell.
There are times when you see the news, and you go, "How the hell am I meant to do anything tonight?" I'm not good at compartmentalizing myself and not being affected by the world around me, so it was very difficult for me when atrocious news stories would pop up. And I would think, "How the hell am I supposed to talk to the skeleton about the horse tonight?"
I don't see myself as a conventional or an unconventional actress. I am just an individual trying to carve a niche for myself that nobody else can fill.
Me miserable! Which way shall I fly Infinite wrath and infinite despair? Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell; And in the lowest deep a lower deep, Still threat'ning to devour me, opens wide, To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.
Nobody dreams of music in hell, and nobody conceives of heaven without it.
Hell, I am young. I am free. My teeth are clean. The sun shines. To hell with everything else
I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly, as the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands. I am nobody; I have nothing to do with explosions.
I am nobody but myself.
I don't think I can really believe in doomsday; I could hardly believe in rewards and punishments, in heaven or hell. As I wrote down in one of my sonnets - I seem to be always plagiarizing, imitating myself or somebody else for that matter - I think I am quite unworthy of heaven or of hell, and even of immortality.
I am confident that nobody... will accuse me of selfishness if I ask to spend time, while I am still in good health, with my family, my friends and also with myself.
What the hell am I doing...? Escape holding myself as a hostage...? I won't be able to make it like that.
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