Quotes About Desperation

when God stops whispering, they become desperate for someone who can put things right.

They sleep despite noise, despite cold, despite hunger, as though desperate to stay removed from the waking world for as long as possible.

She was crying now, quietly, inhaling so vehemently it was as if she were trying to suck the tears back into her eyes.

I saved her only to hear her die.

Knock him on the head with the umbrella stand? Jab him with the paring knife? Scream. Die. Papa.

silent desperation of everything they never said - gaps and absences in every conversation, the past circumscribing the present, the future hemming in the past.

This look?" Bastian says, and flourishes his fat hand. "The way he's got nothing left? A German soldier never reaches this point. There's a name for this look. It's called 'circling the drain.'

Maybe his body is giving up. If he does not eat, he understands, he will die. But when he does eat, he fells as if he will die.

It is as if he has been drowning for as long as he can remember and somebody has fetched him up for air.

You want to know? What it's like? To prop up the dam? To keep your fingers plugged in its cracks? To feel like every single breath that passes is another betrayal, another step farther away from what you were and where you were and who you were, another step deeper into the darkness

Sanford, this story that my son appears to have instructed you to tell me features a young man who gets shot in the head nine times at close range with a .38 pistol, once in the chest at close range with a .22 rifle, then bashed over the head by you with the ax two or maybe three times, but even then he was still alive and required a final blow from Stewart. And that was also a blow to the head with the ax. At which point this unfortunate fellow finally decided that this world was not for him.

You can call it that if you like, but what was I to do? I was desperate. I would have had to move out. I had no job, no income, nowhere to go. Philip was in the cemetery and nobody cared about me.

Pünd had never seen murder as a game, not even as a puzzle to be solved. His work was an examination of humanity at its darkest and most desperate. You could not solve crime unless you understood its genesis.

I always felt very insecure financially as a child. I was desperate to understand money as a child. I was desperate to be secure. Because I always felt like the rug could be pulled from under me.

I found meditation. It was more out of pure desperation: I just started to wake up at 5 and sit for one hour, and suddenly, day after day, piece by piece, I could really feel I was coming back into me.

Pursuit is a rather desperate act in itself. There's something kind of frantic about the notion of pursuit.

I love playing really strung out characters, and characters that are really pushed to their limits and losing their mind.

What would it take for me to eat human flesh? If that was the only way to stay alive, I would. I would eat anything.

Necessité fait gens méprendre Et faim saillir le loup du bois.

Same old boring boring story America can't stop telling itself. What is this sicko fascination? Every book and movie practically has to have a little, right? But why do you think all those runaways are on the streets tearing up their veins with junk and selling themselves so they can sleep in the gutter? What do you think the alternative was at home?

Nothing fuels bravery more than the lack of the will to live.

Angel lay in the darkness after Meribah left and worked over what she had said. Mama had worked to keep Alex Stafford's love alive. She had tried everything to please him and keep his passion alive. Angel wondered now if it hadn't been those very efforts that served to drive him away. Mama had been so hungry for his love. Her entire life had revolved around Alex Stafford's coming to the small cottage. Her happiness depended solely on him. It had been an obsession.

I have an idea. Why don't we build a house honoring the Lord and go inside and close the doors and never come out again." Though she jested, he saw the desperate unhappiness in her eyes. "What light can shine from a closed house, beloved? God wants us in the world, not hiding from it.

Desperation is God's hammer: It demolishes the stronghold of fear and shatters the chains of our excuses. When desperation exceeds our fears, progress begins.