Quotes About Desperation

What's so wonderful about 'The Walking Dead' is that we're able to explore human nature in its most depraved as well as its most humanitarian in each episode.

When I go to Africa and spend more time there with people who are the least of the least, those in desperate situations, I am broken by it. But I also find people with so much more joy and freedom living with nothing than I see walking down the streets of my own community here in Tennessee.

I knew it was against the rules to bet on football, but when you've got an addiction you just want to win that money back.

She's not happy about the life she is living but to jump through the hoop would mean to succumb to death.

All of a sudden their husband's dead and maybe a child is dead and they have absolutely nothing - and they're heading through the desert at night.

The good news of suffering is that it brings us to the end of ourselves - a purpose it has certainly served in my life. It brings us to the place of honesty, which is the place of desperation, which is the place of faith, which is the place of freedom.

Suicide is not an answer, it's destruction.

Is it hard for the reader to believe that suicides are sometimes committed to forestall the committing of murder? There is no doubt of it. Nor is there any doubt that murder is sometimes committed to avert suicide.

Once you are married, there is nothing left for you, not even suicide.

Just as with homicide, those in the 'passion' category of suicide are much more likely to turn to whatever means are immediately available - those that are easy and quick.

Wie meine Träume nach Dir schrein. Wir sind uns mühsam fremd geworden, Jetzt will es mir die Seele morden Dies arme, bange Einsamsein. Kein Hoffen, das die Segel bauscht. Nur diese weite, weisse Stille, In die mein thatenloser Wille In athemlosem Bangen lauscht.

Perhaps everything terrifying is at bottom the helplessness that seeks our help.

In those days it was either live with music or die with noise, and we chose rather desperately to live.

you often doubt if you really exist. You wonder whether you aren't simple a phantom in other people's minds. Say, a figure in a nightmare which the sleeper tries with all his strength to destroy… You ache with the need to convince yourself that you do exist in the real world, that you're a part of all the sound and anguish, and you strike out with your fists, you curse and you swear to make them recognize you. And, alas, it's seldom successful.

Poverty made a sound like a wet cough in the shadows of the room.

Sleep is a patch of death, but three in the morn, full wide-eyed staring, is living death! You dream with your eyes open. God, if you had the strength to rouse up, you'd slaughter your half-dreams with a buckshot! But no, you lie pinned to a deep well-bottom that's burned dry.

How did this happen? It was only the other night everything was fine and the next thing I know I'm drowning. How many times can a man go down and still be alive?

They walked over to the body, thinking that perhaps they could still save the man's life. They couldn't believe that there wasn't some way to help the man. It was the natural act of men who have not accepted death until they have touched it and turned it over and made plans to bury it or leave it there for the jungle to bury in an hour of quick growth.

There must be something in books, things we can't imagine, to make a woman stay in a burning house; there must be something there. You don't stay for nothing.

Right now I've got an awful feeling I want to smash and kill things.

They were dying slowly—it was very clear. They were not enemies, they were not criminals, they were nothing earthly now,—nothing but black shadows of disease and starvation, lying confusedly in the greenish gloom.

No hay miedo que pueda hacer frente al hambre, no hay paciencia que pueda hacerlo desaparecer, la repugnancia simplemente no existe donde existe el hambre; y en cuanto a la superstición, y lo que podríamos llamar principios, tiene menos peso que la hojarasca de viento.

AÈ™a cum se leg?nau pe pietrele albe, în mijlocul mulÈ›imii gr?bite È™i zgomotoase, p?reau niÈ™te fiinÈ›e dintr-o alt? specie - o specie pierdut?, singuratic?, lipsit? de memorie È™i osândit? s? piar?; niÈ™te naufragiaÈ›i, niÈ™te naufragiaÈ›i nes?buiÈ›i, veseli È™i nebuni, care petrec în toiul furtunii, pe muchea lunecoas? a unei stânci perfide.

When your ship fails you, your whole world seems to fail you; the world that made you, restrained you, has taken care of you. It is as if the souls of men floating on an abyss and in touch with immensity had been set free for any excess of heroism, absurdity, or abomination.