Quotes About Desperation

Part of coming from old money, apparently, was having old-person habits, those gross, adult needs and desperate palliatives. The Object was still too young for the effects to tell on her. She didn't have eye bags yet or stained fingernails. But the appetite for sophisticated ruin was already there. She smelled like smoke, if you got close. Her stomach was a mess. But her face continued to give off its autumnal display.

Clasping the unconscious girl to her, Echo's terror of the ocean abruptly suffocated beneath the fear of losing her sister, of Jana dying here on the sand, only a few feet from what would save her.

But the last of her strength had gone, and even if she had, in the last moments, managed to overcome her fear of the sea, she could no more move Jana any closer to the ocean than she could grow scales and breathe fire.

She felt like a child clad in the armour of an adult. She was perplexed at the respect she received from other adults; she expected them to see through her disguise at any moment, revealing her as an empress with no clothes. She needed someone to love and protect her from the world. She desperately sought closeness, but when someone came too close, she ran.

No, there is nothing at all funny in poverty—to the poor. It is hell upon earth to a sensitive man; and many a brave gentleman who would have faced the labors of Hercules has had his heart broken by its petty miseries.

I'm so dopesick, my tears taste like urine. It's as if the air itself were made of broken glass. I try to stop twitching. To stay still, to stop my very breath, let the pain stay inside. The slightest movement grinds tiny shards into my pores. Breathing is like gulping from a bag of claws. I want to die. Want to pass out. Want to stop...this...fucking...feeling.

There's no deodorant for desperation.

One time we attended a child with a rotting leg, covered with wrinkled brown skin, from which a bloody yellow pus oozed. The stench from the leg was so strong that even Olga had to open the door every few moments and let in a draft of fresh air. All day long I stared at the gangrenous leg while the child alternately sobbed and fell asleep.

Her name is Lysandra Keates, and she arrived uninvited on my doorstep a few days ago. I do not know the particulars of her situation as of yet, but my impression is that she is in dire straits. She has begged me to match her with a man." "I am not looking for a mistress!" Andrew snapped, but he couldn't help a brief, powerful image of the girl in the garden…in his bed, her legs wrapped around him as he drove into her.

The whole world is sick...we've all got this pathetic need to be seen. We're a bunch of fucking toddlers trying to get attention.

Shit. Claire riffles through worst-case scenarios: The pay is in cocaine;

All people, except this rich cream, living and scraping and fighting and dying, and for what, nothing, the cold millions with no chance in this world.

She had married Subhash as a means of staying connected to Udayan. But even as she was going through with it she knew that it was useless, just as it was useless to save a single earring when the other half of the pair was lost.

She cries as she feeds him, and as she pats him to sleep, and as he cries between sleeping and feeding. She cries after the mailman's visit because there are no letters from Calcutta. She cries when she calls Ashoke at his department and he does not answer. One day she cries when she goes to the kitchen to make dinner and discovers that they've run out of rice.

At night, on the other hand, I already know that I'm not going to get any sleep in this room they've stuck me in. It's the kind of room that makes me hate the world. I'd toss all this stuff out the window, if I could. I might even toss myself out. I'm on the twelfth floor. But these windows don't open.

The characters have desperation and it doesn't work out for everyone. Maybe it's not fair because I'm responding to the adaptations that smooth out the edges.

When you've tried all the salves in the world and they don't work, you start thinking about fire

The Brothers Grimm came along and I was so desperate for work... Actually I've got to say that I like the movie, I won't apologize for it.

Desperation is not an evidence of hard work, it's a sign of lack of faith

When folks are in desperate times - say, like being stuck in the middle of a long-running interplanetary war - they grasp onto anything that might keep them afloat.

I'm less desperate now to express what's inside me, that's true - I act these days because it keeps me awake and interested, an eternal student.

There is a difference between desire and desperation.

Desperation is the perfume of the young actor. It's so satisfying to have gotten rid of it. If you keep smelling it, it can drive you crazy. In this business a lot of people go nuts, go eccentric, even end up dead from it. Not my plan.

The time when there is nothing at all in your soul except a cry for help may be just that time when God can't give it: you are like the drowning man who can't be helped because he clutches and grabs. Perhaps your own reiterated cries deafen you to the voice you hoped to hear.