Quotes About Desperation

Nathanaël, je t'enseignerais la ferveur. Une existence pathétique, Nathanaël, plutôt que la tranquillité. Je ne souhaite pas d'autre repos que celui du sommeil de la mort. J'ai peur que tout désir, toute énergie que je n'aurais pas satisfaits durant ma vie, pour leur survie ne me tourmentent. J'espère , après avoir exprimé sur cette terre tout ce qui attendait en moi, satisfait, mourir complètement désespèré .

Suicide is not the result of passivity; it is the result of an action taken. It requires a great deal of energy and a strong will in addition to a belief in the permanence of the present bad moment and at least a touch of impulsivity.

She had to do something. She felt so desperate she couldn't even stand to be in her own skin. She would rather have clubbed herself over the head with her history binder than feel the things she was feeling. This was why she had broken up with him. So she wouldn't have to go through this. The wishing and wanting and not having. Why had it turned out so wrong?

Go away! Get out! Don't kill me! I've got a kitten at home. He needs me. Oh, yeah. I've also got a gun.

Now? Why now? Why am I missing her now, Frankie? Why not then? When she was there? Why am I afraid that I'm gonna' lose her when she's already gone. And this fear--this fear swarms through me--floods my whole body 'til there's nothing left. Nothing left of me. And then it turns--it turns to a fear for my whole life. Like my whole life is lost from losing her. Gone. That I'll die like this. Lost. Just lost.

It feels like I have a raging fever, like my insides are melting. This must be what it feels like the moment before you die.

Water, water, every where And all the boards did shrink; Water, water, every where, Ne any drop to drink.

they cried out desperately for help, for pity, for water, for air, for a scrap of humanity.

I was worn out, broken: He had taken almost everything. But he'd been all I'd had, all this time. And when the police led him away, I pulled out of the hands of all these loved one, sobbing, screaming, everything hurting, to try and make him stay.

Everything hurt. I closed my eyes, pressing my cheek to the street, and waited. What for, I didn't know. To be rescued. Or found. But no one came. All I'd ever thought I wanted was to be left alone. Until I was.

Please God, I'm begging you

please God I'm begging you.

I was drowning in broad daylight and no one could tell.

You would be surprised by the strength of a desperate man.

It is my childish mind that thinks people are ready to give it just because you need it.

Didn't Margaret know that he was nearly at the end of his rope? Of course. Her instinct told her that this was her opportunity, and she was giving him the works.

I've got kids that enjoy stealing. I've got kids that don't think about stealing one way or the other, and I've got kids that just tolerate stealing because they know they've got nothing else to do. But nobody--and I mean nobody --has ever been hungry for it like this boy. If he had a bloody gash across his throat and a physiker was trying to sew it up, Lamora would steal the needle and thread and die laughing. He...steals too much .

Fifteen! Dess's distant cry reached him. Where the hell are you, Rex? Ten. You're-an-idiot-nine, get-back-here-eight, you-dimwit-seven...

I sniff a fire burning without outlet, consuming acrid its own smoke. It's me.

They were all down there trying to wire the shackle. Each one of them alone, clinging to the stem of a mushroom anchor with one breath inside. One breath. It didn't matter if you got the shackle wired or not. There was no up. When your breath was done, no up." John Casey, Spartina

She cried for herself, she cried because she was afraid that she herself might die in the night, because she was alone in the world, because her desperate and empty life was not an overture but an ending, and through it all she could see was the rough, brutal shape of a coffin.

While leaning over the toilet getting up his nerve, he thought that the moment before making yourself throw up must be very like the instant before suicide. You are almost content to bear the sickening headache and the torment in your stomach rather than go through that moment. But the prospect of relief made you foolhardy and you jammed your finger down your throat.

Fear was the key. The Crooked Man had learned that, faced with death, most men would do anything to stay alive. They would weep, beg, kill, or betray another to save their own skins. If he could make David afraid of his life, then he would give the Crooked Man what he desired.

Don't ask us what it's like in that moment when the body skitters away from that stupid sheepy shape of breath. Down here, no one asks. We all died boot to throat. We all went out shrieking some bloody name. ~Danielle Pafunda, "The Dead Girls Speak in Unison