Quotes About Desperation

But I didn't cry. I sat stiller than I'd ever sat, just kind of falling in on myself, getting denser and smaller, and all the while I screamed. Not with my vocal chords, nothing so pure and ordinary as that. My mouth didn't move, but I screamed with my whole body, my hair, my fingers, the back of my neck, the pit of my stomach, the pores of my skin. I screamed until I didn't have any voice left, until I was empty, and then I floated, shivering, in an ice-cold ocean of silence.

This, then, was hunger. This was what his mother had meant when she had said, "We'll all go hongry." He had laughed, for he had thought he had known hunger, and it was faintly pleasant. He knew now that it had been only appetite. This was another thing.

True spirituality is "the place where desperation meets Jesus.

Jesus loved, praised, and rewarded one thing: desperation for God that superseded decorum.

How desperate are you for the blessing, the breakthrough, the miracle? Desperate enough to pray through the night? How many times are you willing to circle the promise?

had detected desperation in Sharpe's broadcasts of late. With all branches of government now seated on the left, Sharpe and his corps of angry white microphone jocks could be reliably cast as the whining remnants of a bygone era.

His epic career of ups and downs, feuds, outrages, and swift descent into shamelessness and desperation made Giuliani the master creature of the Trump Swamp.

The prevailing mood was one of sullen desperation; poverty fluttered along behind us like a rag caught in the carriage door.

power was bleeding from Benito Mussolini's grasp like joy from a young widowed heart.

Whenever cannibals are on the brink of starvation, Heaven, in its infinite mercy, sends them a fat missionary.

We don't shoot somebody soon, I'm gonna forget how

If a homeless person has a funny sign, he hasn't been homeless for that long. A real homeless person is too hungry to be funny.

The shortest horror story:The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock on the door.

What the hell am I doing...? Escape holding myself as a hostage...? I won't be able to make it like that...

Why would Dad call you? I mean, you have to admit that he would have been better off calling the local prison and asking them to send out one of the convicted killers to come find me. - Shella

so funny how i was so desperate triiying to reach to this point ...and now i have nothing to said im symple out of words, , ,

We all need money, but there are degrees of desperation.

I think we're a kind of desperation. We're sort of a maddening luxury. The basic and essential human is the woman, and all that we're doing is trying to brighten up the place. That's why all the birds who belong to our sex have prettier feathers because males have got to try and justify their existence.

I see seven people in one room and one pregnant and people fucking anyway because people so poor that they can't even afford shame and I wait

Nobody falls that way without being pushed. I know. And I know how it feels and looks, a body that falls fighting the air all the way down, grabbing onto clumps of nothing and begging once, just once, just goddamn once, Jesus, you sniveling son of a mongrel bitch, just once that air gives grip.

Under the gully you just never know how the stink can drive a man mad. How he can think crazy shit and wicked shit and nasty shit, kill a baby shit or fuck a little girl shit or shit in church shit because the stink so stink all you can think is that the stink must be easing into you like water through a strainer and now you must be stink too. And I just want to wash it off, I just want to wash the whole thing off but the water running through the gully stink too.

They turned over the reception desk and the poor security guards did the only thing they could do. They ran.

Maybe I should have grabbed my own cock skin and smashed it off with a rock.

Catherine was there, waiting. Catherine would take the pain away. Catherine would hold him and soothe the heartache; she would understand and share the sense of overwhelming loss he felt. She was his life, his sanity. God … how he needed her.