Quotes About Desperation

And then it finally did happen. I just lay there in shock. It hurt so bad, and I thought, "God, please, let me die." As he put himself inside me, I wanted to scream for help, but there was no one to help me. I had nowhere to hide. My mother's room, my little sister's embrace, Uncle Fred, Uncle Warren, nothing and no one would save me, and so I lay there silently, staring at the cracks in the ceiling, watching a part of me die.

If it is perfectly acceptable for a widow to disfigure herself or commit suicide to save face for her husband's family, why should a mother not be moved to extreme action by the loss of a child or children? We are their caretakers. We love them. We nurse them when they are sick. . . But no woman should live longer than her children. It is against the law of nature. If she does, why wouldn't she wish to leap from a cliff, hang from a branch, or swallow lye?

He waits every day with every answer we need, every comfort we crave, every affection we're desperate for, while we look everywhere else but at Him.

I drop her on the cot and turn away and grab my hair and pull until it hurts. I want to pull all of it out. Every single piece. I want a pain I understand instead of the one I don't. I want a pain that has a beginning and an end, not one that goes on forever and cuts all the way to the bone.

They hunt for food in Dumpsters. . . . Hunt for food . . . I passed the apartment complex with the crumbling white stucco walls, looked over, watched the Dumpster go by, but the vision stayed with me. I pictured the children climbing among the broken bottles and Wal-Mart sacks full of soiled diapers. They weren't playing. . . . The image was clear now—the little girl holding a wad of foil, the boy turning over a Hostess Cup Cakes box. . . .

There are those who want things made worse, not better, so that they can scavenge on the remnants. Remember what you know already: the human world is filled with predators.

told her if Jon Rittenberg or Daisy found out, they would do anything to stop her from exposing them. But she continued like she had nothing to lose. And maybe she didn't have anything left to lose,

I . . . For Pete's sake," snaps Tom. "How can you all just stand here asking me these questions when she's lying down there? Being pecked at, eaten, by crows, scavengers!

Abbie wondered why she was even bothering to stay alive, when she was evidently so gullible and pathetic and pointless. The only thing that stopped her taking an overdose was, she couldn't be bothered.

Ah, the old don't-need-a-man thing. I love that line. I mean it sounds great, and girls love to say that stuff because it makes them sound all strong and independent. But it's not actually true, is it? Deep down they're panicking, getting more and more desperate, and the next thing you know, they're hurling themselves into a new relationship.

Maybe he should kill himself and put them all out of their misery.

For a second, I wanted very badly to know a spell that would let me melt through the floor in a quivering puddle of please-don't-kill-me.

Killing is not so easy as it seems. Most people are wired to be careful of their fellow human beings. Soldiers and cops both are specifically given training to overcome that instinct, and the criminals who fire at other people are usually driven to it by desperation. And

I see arms and hands and tear-stained faces... Reaching up but not quite touching the promised land... I hear pleas and prayers and desperate graces, Saying Oh Lord, please give us a helping hand...

You talk crazy any more and I'll leave. Leave. For Christ's sake leave. She would not take her eyes from the dry wash. All right. Don't, he would say then. Don't. Why do you say those things. Why do you fight. He would sit on the bed and put his head in his hands. To find out if you're alive.

Why have we made a folk hero of a man who is the antithesis of all our official heroes, a haunted millionaire out of the West, trailing a legend of desperation and power and white sneakers? But then we have always done that. Our favorite people and our favorite stories become so not by any inherent virtue, but because they illustrate something deep in the grain, something unadmitted.

Did not the Donner-Reed Party, after all, eat its own dead to reach Sacramento?

We were seeing the desperate attempt of a handful of pathetically unequipped children to create a community in a social vacuum.

Why have we made a folk hero of a man who is the antithesis of all our official heroes, a haunted millionaire out of the West, trailing a legend of desperation and power and white sneakers?

Les naufrages

The sugary rhizomes of Stilbocarpa have saved the lives of many shipwrecked people who gnawed them in desperation, though they need to be cooked to be palatable. A strange side effect was that eating Stilbocarpa roots bleached the teeth, so that even men who had been addicted for years to chewing tobacco ended up with teeth as white as a child's.

Sometimes survival is the worst alternative there is

He drank, for the same reason he wrote second-rate science fiction. Not to forget but to remember, to open the past and find himself there again. He opened each bottle, began each story with the secret conviction that here was the magic drought that would restore him. But magic, like wine, needs the right conditions in order to work.

Superheroes were born in the minds of people desperate to be rescued.