Quotes About Desperation

I find myself alone in this world and I'm very sad. Everyone has abandoned me and I am truly alone. I have nobody to talk too, to confide in and share my problems with. I have nobody to cheer me up when I'm down, nobody to love or love me back. I have nobody, I am alone in this world.

I'm not desperate, but I am tired of being alone.

Complaining about wanting a relationship just makes you look more desprate then you are.

I love you, I mean like I am in love with you. I've never in my life ever felt this way towards anyone. I know this sounds crazy, but before I met you, my life was a complete mess. You truly helped me be myself, and I love you for that. But all I can say is that I'm a total loser, and you deserve better. My love for you will never matter, just like I never will.

A soul mates purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life.

You are a fool," she said. "Get down. Your halfwit death will not save him.

Adesso ogni minuto era una goccia di sangue e amore che andava persa.

But he could tell your father. He might be angry." I said it almost desperately. Soon my skin would grow too warm, and I would no longer be able to think. "So what if he is?" The first time he had said something like this, I had been shocked. That his father might be angry and Achilles would still do as he wished—it was something I did not understand, could barely imagine. It was like a drug to hear him say it. I never tired of it.

Bu dünyaya bir an daha dayanamayaca??m, diye dü?ündüm. "Öyleyse çocu?um, ba?ka bir dünya yap.

I think; This is what I will miss. I think: I will kill myself rather than miss it. I think: How long do we have?

Había contemplado la muerte en pinturas y en los tapices, y también en las figuras negras de las hidrias, pero jamás había visto la vibración del estertor, el ahogo, la desesperación. El olor a sangre.

Patroclo —dice—, Patroclo, Patroclo. Lo repite una y otra vez hasta que la palabra es solo un sonido. Ulises se arrodilla y le insta a comer y beber. Le invade una ira feroz al oír eso y está a punto de matarle, pero para eso debería dejarme y no puede. Me sujeta con tanta fuerza que casi noto el latido de su corazón, como el aleteo de una mariposa. Es un eco, el último jirón de mi espíritu aún sujeto a mi cuerpo. Un suplicio.

Es esto lo que voy a echar de menos. Me mataré antes que perderlo», pensé, y luego me pregunté: «¿Cuánto tiempo tenemos?».

Threats don't work with the person who's got nothing to lose.

As her time grew near, your brother took her in. His family situation was under strain, but at least she had a bed there, her own room. It was almost good enough. But really none of it was good enough, even though it was better than many get. When she began to lose consciousness, your brother had her moved to a local hospice; you flew there in the dead of night, desperate to get there in time, so that she wouldn't die alone.

You said.' Esme shuts her eyes, screws them up tight, bowing her head. 'You promised,' she says, almost inaudibly and, with her hands, she is crushing the material of her dress.

when he came off the beach. She would not see him again. She fought like a crazed thing. She fought to live, she fought to come back. She has always wanted to tell him this, in some way. She tried. She would like to say to him, Theo, I tried. I fought because I didn't see how I could leave you. But I lost.

I am desperate for change, endlessly seeking novelty, wherever I can find it.

Tener hambre y no poder comer es morir un poco cada minuto, cada segundo.

Sprawled, bloody, holding the pistol, he looked like a police photograph of a suicide. Dart went back to his chair and picked up the Smith and Wesson. Five minutes passed like a year.

If you weren't here and Oma died, I'd deal with it. Because there'd be nothing more to lose. It'd be just me. But now it's different; it's worse. Because you're yet another person to lose. You do stupid, dangerous things, and every time you go away, I pray in agony that you'll come back. It's unfair. Hope is pulling me to pieces. I can't stand it.

How alike are the groans of love, to those of the dying.

Only against death does man cry out in vain.

People who can see their neighbors with air-conditioning and cars, but who themselves live in shacks and often lack sewage disposal or a reliable water supply, have little to lose, and may find violence a rational option.