Quotes About Desolation

but the day rains over the emptiness of everything

Éste es mi silencio, mi falta de ganas, mi inutilidad atroz.

My words demand the silence of a wasteland.

The abandoned bonfire kills its own light.

el vino es como un llanto desolado que humedece mi juventud frente a tus besos que otra deglute

Paso desnuda con un cirio en la mano, castillo frío, jardín de las delicias. La soledad no es estar parada en el muelle, a la madrugada, mirando el agua con avidez. La soledad es no poder decirla por no poder circundarla por no poder darle un rostro por no poderla hacer sinónimo de un paisaje. La soledad sería esta melodía rota de mis frases.

El universo es una perversa inmensidad hecha de ausencia. Uno no esta casi en ninguna parte. Sin embargo, en medio de las infinitas desolaciones hay una buena noticia: el amor.

I knew I would be forever isolated, desolate, useless. Life? To be born for no reason, to suffer constantly, to die ignorant. God? Extant but unreachable. Blind, deaf, and mute for His creatures. Human society? A prison filled with lunatics, thieves, and drunks.

Being alone could sometimes feel terribly empty...

I don't know. I got nothing. No house, no people, no place. Maybe that's troubles. Don't I say?

Night, street and streetlight, drugstore, The purposeless, half-dim, drab light. For all the use live on a quarter century – Nothing will change. There's no way out. – You'll die – and start all over, live twice, Everything repeats itself, just as it was: Night, the canal's rippled icy surface, The drugstore, the street, and streetlight.

Power may be justly compared to a great river while kept within its bounds it is both beautiful and useful, but when it overflows its banks, it is then too impetuous to be stemmed it bears down all before it, and brings destruction and desolation wherever it goes.

Nor public flame, nor private, dares to shine; Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine! Lo! thy dread empire, Chaos! is restored; Light dies before thy uncreating word: Thy hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain fall; And universal darkness buries all.

I have outlasted all desire, My dreams and I have grown apart; My grief alone is left entire, The gleamings of an empty heart. The storms of ruthless dispensation Have struck my flowery garland numb, I live in lonely desolation And wonder when my end will come. Thus on a naked tree-limb, blasted By tardy winter's whistling chill, A single leaf which has outlasted Its season will be trembling still.

Gone — flitted away, Taken the stars from the night and the sun From the day! Gone, and a cloud in my heart.

What I was trying to convey there was the kind of waste land that was left after the war. It was a bit like one always thinks of war, you know, stark scenery and no birds, no trees, no leaves, nothing living. And just emptiness.

In a position of utter desolation, when man cannot express himself in positive action, when his only achievement may consist in enduring his sufferings in the right way - an honorable way - in such a position man can, through loving contemplation of the image he carries of his beloved, achieve fulfillment.

There's no such thing as a crowded battlefield. Battlefields are lonely places.

Forsaken, fucking in the cold, eating each other, lost runny noses, complaining all the time like so many people that we know

I stood there feeling nowhere.

There was a planet that couldn't figure out where everyone was. It died of loneliness. That happened billions of times in our galaxy alone.

Something has broken in him. His appetite for human self-regard is dead.

At three in the morning Main Street was so quiet that Dallas could hear the street light change from red to green a block away. There was nothing sadder and lonelier in the world, he decided, especially when you were all alone when it happened.

That abandoned house, With its yard of fallen leaves, In the setting sun.