Quotes About Desperation

To worry is to become accessible, unwittingly accessible. And once you worry you cling to anything out of desperation; and once you cling you are bound to get exhausted or to exhaust whoever or whatever you are clinging to.

A hunter knows he will lure game into his traps over and over again, so he doesn't worry. To worry is to become accessible, unwittingly accessible. And once you worry you cling to anything out of desperation; and once you cling you are bound to get exhausted or to exhaust whoever or whatever you are clinging to.

A hunter knows he will lure game into his traps over and over again, so he doesn't worry. To worry is to become accessible, unwittingly accessible. And once you worry you cling to anything out of desperation; and once you cling you are bound to get exhausted or to exhaust whoever or whatever you are clinging to.

I felt like running away and not stopping until there was no more world left to run from.

1I smiled bitterly, a defeated man pitifully begging a God in whom he had never trusted.

Ahora mismo papá va a ir a tu habitación y le va a echar a patadas para que no vuelva nunca más. Nuestro hijo me lanzó una mirada desesperada. ¿Para qué sirve un padre si no es para misiones heroicas de esta envergadura?

I looked at him and saw a lonely man, devoid of hope. I knew what I was doing when I took him home and let myself be seduced by him. I knew I was deceiving him and that he knew, too, but had nothing else in the world. That is how we became lovers, out of desperation.

A bedjacket speaks of desperation, and what it says is: toodle-oo.

Suddenly, she jumped up and waved frantically toward the boat vanishing in the twilight. Dark thirty? She doubted Cap'n would even remember he had brought them, much less to pick them up. And no one, no one knew they were here on this uninhabited island in the Graveyard of the Atlantic. Cap'n, come back! she cried. Her words were lost in the threatening wind. But he just waved, and she figured he thought she was waving good-bye. And she probably was—forever.

Please, stop this. Leave me alone,' she begged, despising herself for her weakness. 'Oh, please, Leon, leave me alone!' The last came out as a choked sob. He stood up and came to stand in front of her. 'I can't, my cool Helen. You have me tied up in knots. If it's time you want, you've got it, but you have to let me see you, be with you, talk to you.' -Leon & Helen

Come back to me safe, Kate, Grace said, whispering, because her throat had closed and her own tears were falling. She had so much to tell Kate, so much more advice to give, but there wasn't time, because the tide was turning and David was no doubt waiting at the pier. But she had time for one last piece of advice. One last, desperate plea. And for God's sake, don't fall in love with your captain.

But the music did not come again. The tune was left broken, unfinished. And the drawn tightness she could no longer stand. She felt she must do something wild and sudden that never had been done before. She hit herself on the head with her fist, but that did not help any at all. And she began to talk aloud, although at first she paid no attention to her own words and did not know in advance what she would say.

The loneliness in him was so keen that he was filled with terror. Usually he had a pint of bootleg white lightning. He drank the raw liquor and by daylight he was warm and relaxed.

Then when he had washed the ashtray and the glass he brought out a pistol from his pocket and put a bullet in his chest.

Again, the terror, the acknowledgment of wasted years and death. Valentin, responsive and confident, still nestled in his arms. His cheek touched the soft cheek and felt the brush of the delicate eyelashes. With inner desperation he pressed the child close - as though an emotion as protean as his love could dominate the pulse of time.

Harry: I supposed getting married wouldn't be any worse than killing myself.

From the hills in the early dawn, Small, thin, mist-wreathed, she came upon him; Hair sodden to the brow, Eyes like agates, Lips apart, tongue flicking at words frozen in her head. Gliding to his feet, She caught his hand and said 'come help me, mister, or she'll be dead.

hundreds of butts in piles on the ground to mark the spot, their lives sucked out of them by their users in panicked distressed frenzy, their souls floating around the insides of lungs while their outsides were dropped, stamped on and deserted

I didn't know what else to do. I don't have anywhere else to go, I can't go back. I'm trying to move forward all the time but I'm grasping at everything and can't catch on to anything.

One does not kill oneself for love of a woman, but because love—any love—reveals us in our nakedness, our misery, our vulnerability, our nothingness.

It was then that it came, though I think it had been coming for a long time and I had been choking it and hoping it would die. But it does not die. It kills you first. I knew there would be no other way to do it. No one says you have to paint ultimate anguish and torment. But if you are driven to paint it, you have no other way.

It's not that I approve of murder—but some people just beg to be killed, don't they?

If you look at 'Breaking Bad,' nothing lacks.

In New York, everyone's desperate for success, desperate for money and desperate to be accepted, but in London they're more laid back about things like that.