Quotes About Desperation

Dont hurt me,'Caine whispered. He didnt have the will to look up at her. Gaia laughed. "Have you seen Mother? I seem to have lost her.

All I can think of is the emaciated bodies of children on our kitchen table as my mother prescribes what the parent's can't give. More food.

People need motivation to do anything. I don't think human beings learn anything without desperation.

When you got nothing, you got nothing to lose.

But a desperate heart will seduce the mind.

There is something about writing poetry that brings a man close to the cliff's edge.

Myth and poetry represent a reservoir of vertical thinking, which we could also call longing and gratitude to ancestors. We need that gratitude desperately.

To write poetry and to commit suicide, apparently so contradictory, had really been the same, attempts at escape.

Poetry -- even bad poetry -- may be our final hope.

I'm on my knees begging, please come and save me.

The abjection of our political situation is the only true challenge today. Only facing up to this situation in all its desperation can help us get out of it.

You can't separate desperate politicians from violence and trouble.

When there is silence, Give your voice. When there is darkness, Shine your light. When there is desperation, Offer hope.

We are so desperate to be in love with someone else that we forget to love ourself...what a tragedy!

This is how God works. He puts people in positions where they are desperate for his power, and then he shows his provision in ways that display his greatness

He had decided, almost hysterically it seems from the tone of this desperate letter to Washington, to turn his back on the people who had so rejected and wounded him, and make his peace with the British.

She felt him more than life to her and knew him lost, and the frenzy, that makes a woman kill the man she loves, or fling vitriol to destroy the beauty she cannot have for all hers, possessed her lawless soul.

Hovington cowered on the porch alternately praying and swearing in a desperate attempt to cover all the bases.

Hunkered there in the darkness, he felt before himself a door, madness already raising the hand to knock.

He would not chance arrest by crawling into a corner of one of the old houses on Lower Broadway where the cops swept through periodically with their mindless net. What difference did it make whether four or six or eight lost men slept under a roof and out of the wind in a house with broken stairs and holes in the floors you could fall through to death, a house that for five or maybe ten years had been inhabited only by pigeons? What difference?

He strode past the dazed forms and out of his prison, knowing in his heart that before this was over, he would be named Betrayer once more, and he would deserve it.

With the minivan in the air, rolling counterclockwise, the engine racing, Laurie screaming -- a fraction of a second, that's all -- Jacob would have thought of me -- who had held him, my own baby, looked down into his eyes -- and he would have understood I loved him, no matter what, to the very end -- as he saw the concrete wall flying forward to meet him.

And he clutched it tight in his fist, as if it were his final, brightest hope in a world of tragic illusions.

I was ready to lose everything for a hope I now knew was false. I now knew it was false, impossible, ruined already by my own hand, and still I had no choice