We torture and sigh and adhere to a lie.
Self-torture yields a false confession.
What tortures one delights another.
Fame tortures the soul, but obscurity completely rips the heart out.
Weak tortures; strong nurtures.
Rapport trumps torture.
The tortured lie; the befriended amplify.
Pain is our torturer; it is also our trustworthy reporter.
Unrequited love is the highest form of self-torture.
We torture our loves to test their tenacities.
The tortuosity of life; the blissification of death.