Quotes About Desperation

The English language needs a word for that feeling you get when you badly need help, but there is no one who you can call because you're not popular enough to have friends, not rich enough to have employees, and not powerful enough to have lackeys.

Kill me and burn my body. Then burn this place down on top of me. Find the other doors if there are more, and burn them down, too. In fact, just burn the whole town. Just to be safe.

NO!" he screamed at it. "No! Don't you see, you dumb son of a bitch? We don't want to kill you! Can you even hear me, you fucking animal? I will put this through your goddamned neck!

The English language needs a word for that feeling you get when you badly need help, but there is no one who you can call because you're not popular enough to have friends, not rich enough to have employees, and not powerful enough to have lackeys. It's a very distinct cocktail of impotence, loneliness and a sudden stark assessment of your non-worth to society. Enturdment?

Nothing in life was possible unless you were old and rich, until then you were only small and futile before your tormentors, desperately waiting for the release that only years could bring. You bodly threw down your challenges and then ran away in a childish panic when someone picked them up...

Only you mattered in that moment. Only you. And I would have done anything to save you. I would have paid any price committed any sin sold my very soul to do it.

in that moment I would have sold my soul to a tinker to be anywhere else.

I felt a constant, low-flying desperation, the kind you feel when you are trying, trying, trying to get something you will never, ever get.

Ass-kissing is the last resort of any anxious person who's in over their head.

Who knows where inspiration comes from. Perhaps it arises from desperation. Perhaps it comes from the flukes of the universe, the kindness of the muses.

In her garret, Divine lived only on tea and grief.

She went to get the revolver, which had long since been loaded by a most considerate Providence, and when she held it in her hand, weighty as a phallus in action, she realised she was big with murder, pregnant with a corpse.

Everything here was mean and dirty, the people ate worms.

Je revoyais, sous la clarté de mon briquet, Clarius étendu sur l'herbe, sur sa croix je veux dire ; j'entendais son « Tue-moi ». Au point où il en était, ça faisait un homme voué à la mort.

This is my client Trent. I'm going to defend him vigorously, because that's my job. When he looks at you today, he has to see a group of people who are willing to be fair and impartial. Please think about those words—fair and impartial. Because, believe me, if it were you in this chair, or your mother, or your child, you'd be as desperate to have fair and impartial jurors as he is right now.

To be lonely is to feel unwanted and unloved, and therefor unloveable. Loneliness is a taste of death. No wonder some people who are desperately lonely lose themselves in mental illness or violence to forget the inner pain.

At times such as these, evenings in the forest, loneliness seized her like a black dog. She kept telling herself it was pure weakness, that she had to be strong to stay alive in this world. Her orphanhood hung about her like a cloak. You shall not feel sorry for yourself, she commanded, and then disobeyed... beneath the surface veneer of stubborn independence, she needed desperately to belong to somebody.

I need to feel strongly, to love and to admire, just as desperately as I need to breathe. A letter from a friend, a Balthus painting on a postcard, a page of Saint-Simon, give meaning to the passing hours.

The book is water in the desert.

She's aware that she and her companions represent something to these men. They look like home. Or they look like salvation. Or they look like prey. To an halcón they might look like reward money.

Era la sed y el hambre, y tú fuiste la fruta. Era el duelo y las ruinas, y tú fuiste el milagro. —Pablo Neruda, "La canción desesperada

Un miros de s?rac, un miros de violen??, de necesitatea de a parveni.

Brave is a mental illness you get when you're desperate. Sometimes it lasts for less than a minute. Sometimes it sticks with you forever, like leprosy or TB. It all depends on how many times you have to carry the condition around in your head.

it's crazy to think he wouldn't call the police. But I despise him. I don't care how irrational it is; if my mind worked normally, I wouldn't have killed eight people for the fun of it.