Quotes About Desperation

It's amazing what we value when we're at our lowest.

The kind of people I know now don't have barbecues, Mama. They stand up alone at nights in small rooms and eat cold weenies. My so-called friends are bums. Many of them are nothing but rats. They spread T.B. and use dirty language. They're wife-beaters and window peepers and night crawlers and dope fiends. They have running sores on the backs of their hands that never heal. They peer up from cracks in the floor with their small red eyes and wait for chances.

With that, Quincy brought the bowie knife down on Moon's cuffed hand and chopped off four fingers which flew up before my eyes like chips from a log. Moon screamed and a rifle ball shattered the lantern in front of me and struck Quincy in the neck, causing hot blood to spurt on my face. My thought was: I am better out of this.

He had the desperation, not the courage, to be himself. Once you do that, you can't go wrong, because you can't make any mistakes when people love you for being yourself. But for Kurt, it didn't matter that other people loved him; he simply didn't love himself enough.

Ele tinha o desespero, não a coragem, para ser ele mesmo. Uma vez que você tem isso, você não pode dar errado, porque você não pode cometer nenhum erro quando as pessoas o amam por você ser você mesmo. Mas, para Kurt, não importava que as outras pessoas o amassem; ele simplesmente não se amava o bastante.

And then it was like he had been punched hard in the chest. He wasn't running anymore. He looked down. there was a silver bolt sticking out of him.no, that couldn't be. He couldn't have shot himself. He tried to augh, but it hurt to much. What was gong on? He had fallen. He was sitting down, his legs out in front of him. dead grown-ups lay all around him. Nothing moved. he couldn't breathe. His lungs were full of liquid. He looked up. The sky was flickering.

What is love anyway? From my new vantage point, I realize that love is nothing more than a messy conglomeration of need, desperation, fear of death and insecurity about penis size.

Desperation, she said, feels like someone's reaching down your throat and ripping out your guts.

He covered her face with a pillow and lay on it. She got half a breath before he crushed her, and she thrashed like hell but in that second she knew it was foolish.

Christ, he was empty, just a shell of himself. He had nothing to give, not even his seed.

You have a wild-eyed look, my Beth. What do you see?" "Don't look at me," she cried, now utterly unhinged. "Don't look into my eyes when you can see everything in them, and I am not able to look into yours and see anything!

We need him dead or in jail, and I'm probably a crappy murderer. – Libby

Gabe ran his hand through his hair and suppressed sending an entreaty to God. It wouldn't do any good. The motley crew before him could only have been sent by the devil himself. His long lost sister, a hippie vampire, an angry Italian cop, and a tattooed man with no last name. It was as if Central Casting had thrown up its hands and sent over whomever had walked in the door.

Would it ring? It would not ring. Should you call? You should not call. But you always called. You couldn't help but call because your heart was crushed and you thought maybe if you talked it out ONE MORE TIME the person who crushed your heart would change his/her mind and uncrush it.

I howled and howled and howled, rooting my face into her body like an animal.

We need books, and Cheryl's books in particular, because we are all, in the private kingdom of our hearts, desperate for the company of a wise, true friend. Someone who isn't embarrassed by our emotions, or her own, who recognizes that life is short and that all we have to offer, in the end, is love. Radical

Desperation is unsustainable.

When you suffered it all And your spirit is breaking You're growing desperate from the fight Remember your love And you always will be This melody will always bring You right back home

The guy probably didn't want anything, at least not anything that would make sense to someone with a normal brain. People who did this sort of thing just sort of went bug-fuck. Something in the brain shorted out, blew a fuse, whatever.

There is nothing so desperately monotonous as the sea, and I no longer wonder at the cruelty of pirates.

Man is never honestly the fatalist, nor even the stoic. He fights his fate, often desperately. He is forever entering bold exceptions to the rulings of the bench of gods. This fighting, no doubt, makes for human progress, for it favors the strong and the brave. It also makes for beauty, for lesser men try to escape from a hopeless and intolerable world by creating a more lovely one of their own.

Hope is determination, you think. Hope is desperation. Hope is a yearning you can't deny. And hope is just plain old-fashioned insanity.

Hver gang hun føler seg trengt opp i et hjørne, bryter hun ut i: «Nei, for du er vel mer vant til å håndtere lik, du.» Eller: «Du tåler det bare ikke når folk gjør noe så kjedelig som å puste eller snakke, du.» Eller: «Kan du ikke bare kverke meg, da?» Men bortsett fra det er alt fint.

Sharp knives seemed to cut her delicate feet, yet she hardly felt them, so deep was the pain in her heart. She could not forget that this was the last night she would ever see the one for whom she had left her home and family, had given up her beautiful voice, and had day by day endured unending torment, of which he knew nothing at all. An eternal night awaited her.