Quotes About Desolation

I felt rotten. Dead butterfly floating on the surface of the pool. Audible machine hum. Drowned crickets and beetles swirling in the plastic filter baskets. Above, the setting sun flared gaudy and inhuman, blood-red shelves of cloud that suggested end-times footage of catastrophe and ruin: detonations on Pacific atolls, wildlife running before sheets of flame.

light so lucid, so heartsick and empty, that I could hardly remember that the world had ever been anything but dead.

And that, my friend, is how the world ends. On the edge of a precipice, with one foot over the edge, it stops, turns and goes back, leaving an empty earth of birds and insects, wind, rain and rusting weapons.

All over Alabama the lamps are out. Every leaf drenches the touch; the spider's net is heavy. The roads lie there with nothing to use them. The fields lie there, with nothing at work in them, neither man nor beast.

Tu ci hai detto che la menzogna suprema è quando identifichiamo il «mistero» con la morte, con l'inevitabilità del male, con la desolazione. È una menzogna perché è la negazione della possibilità di cambiamento? Della possibilità del cambiamento, certo. È il demoniaco, è la diabolicità.

Flies die in so many lonely places. -Roberta Rohbeson

Victory is no longer a truth. It is only a word to describe who is left alive in the ruins

A small town at the southern tip of the empire. I had a bit of trouble finding it myself—it's been excluded from the more recent maps. Whatever reason there was for the town's existence has apparently passed. It is withering and dying, a refuge for petty criminals and down-at-the-heels adventurers. Still, it's part of the empire.

The door closed, and the room swelled around me like a bruise. When she was here, I could pretend it felt small because of her, but when she left the four wood walls seemed to press towards me, like lungs that had breathed in.

I was a gray space filled up with nothing. What could I say? One of us must grieve. I would not let it be him.

I came for her, but there was no one who would come for me. The thought was steadying. After all, I had been alone my whole life.

To be utterly alone. What worse punishment could there be…

her dark eyes were like twin entrances to two deep caves. Nothing lived in those caves. Maybe something had, once upon a time. There were piles of picked bones back in there, some scribbling on the walls, and some grey ash where the fires had been.

Think what it would be like if you got back to your island and there was no old man, no girl any more. No mysterious fun and games. The whole place locked up forever.

Whole sight; or all the rest is desolation.

So this wonderful city Has only dead ashes for me.

The Old Provost's Lodging had been razed to its foundation. All that remained was a pile of rubble.

a trance of desolation

you will understand why I say to you: sell the Hall unseen, burn it to the ground and plough the earth with salt, if you will; but never live there.

An existence transfigured by failure.

Civilizations come and go; they conquer the earth and crumble into dust; but faith survives every desolation.

I've given away to many pieces of my heart, now there's nothing left...

Sometimes I feel like the last cookie in the cookie jar; broken and alone.

I can already picture being pushed to the side and completely forgotten by him . It's a sad thought