Quotes About Desolation

En un oasis uno puede beber, comer, curarse las heridas, descansar, pero si el oasis es de horror, si sólo existen oasis de horror, el viajero podrá confirmar, esta vez de forma fehaciente, que la carne es triste, que llega un día en que todos los libros están leídos y que viajar es un espejismo. Hoy, todo parece indicar que sólo existen oasis de horror o que la deriva de todo oasis es hacia el horror.

una larga espera inerme, una espera cuya columna vertebral era el desamparo, algo muy latinoamericano, por otra parte, una sensación familiar, algo que si uno lo pensaba bien experimentaba todos los días

aunque yo sabía perfectamente que esa disposición era falsa, tan falsa como la mía, una disposición de apariencia alegre que escondía una sensación de vacío, de tristeza y desconsuelo ante nuestra propia reacción frente al vacío.

Mentre i messicani mangiavano carne alla griglia e patatine fritte, Fate si mise a pensare al tatuaggio di García. Confrontò poi la solitudine di quel rancho con la solitudine della casa di sua madre. Pensò alle sue ceneri che erano ancora là. Pensò alla vicina morta. Pensò al quartiere di Barry Seaman. E tutto quello che la sua memoria andava illuminando mentre i messicani mangiavano gli parve desolato.

Sound seemed muted, and night darker, scent and taste dulled. It was as if the world had been robbed of its brightness. He had left me behind to dwell alone in a dimmed and stale place.

A word I read comes to mind: solastalgia, a miserable tangle of solace, desolation, and nostalgia.

A word I read comes to mind: solastalgia, a miserable tangle of solace, desolation, and nostalgia. Glenn Albrecht defines it as the distress of seeing a familiar environment bitterly transformed by drought, fire, flood, war.

solastalgia, a miserable tangle of solace, desolation, and nostalgia.

He was homeless in the truest sense, within.

Squalor has nothing to do with money. Squalor happens when people are sad. And

She was unequal to anyone's wistfulness. She had made too little of her life. Its loneliness shamed her like a crime.

nothing remained but loneliness and grief…

Laurie felt just then that his heart was entirely broken and the world a howling wilderness.

It was as if her own conscience had taken human shape, for his voice eloquently uttered the fears, the feelings that had filled her heart that night. She had wavered, for love was sweet and life looked desolate without it; but the example of this man who asked nothing for himself and was as true to his own soul as he would have her to hers, touched and inspired her with a brave desire to be worthy his respect, to emulate his virtue.

There were no colors. Everything was neutral. From this I know that hell is not black or fiery. It is an unvaried gray without promise.

la vida es atroz sin ti, es una angustia sin nombre, un desamparo sin fondo, una desolación sin límites.

A name could be either a ghost or a portent depending on which side of time you were standing. The name Whaletown had become a mere specter of the past, a crepuscular Pacific shimmer, but the name Desolation Sound still hovered in the liminal space and felt to her both oracular and haunted.

Need on ainukesed hetked, kui ma olen tundnud tõeist üksindust: seistes ihuüksi silmitsi karistamatu vägivallaga. Maailm tühjeneb, vaikib, sureb välja ning kaob.

Nairobi: la ciudad, vacía, no se había despertado aún de su perezoso sueño de domingo

Alone on the earth! Hamed cries out, and there is a note of terror in his voice, for that is the one thing a Somali cannot imagine: finding himself alone in the world.

Más tarde, cuando se hubieron marchado todos los panaderos, fontaneros, electricistas, carteros y porteros, la ciudad de piedra perdió su razón de ser, el sentido de su existencia. No era más que un esqueleto desnudo pulido por el viento, un hueso roído que sobresalía de la tierra en dirección al sol

My soul is like the dead sea, over which no bird can fly; when it gets halfway, it sinks down spent to its death and destruction.

My soul is so heavy that no longer can any thought sustain it, no wingbeat lift it up into the ether. If it moves, it only sweeps along the ground like the low flight of birds when a thunderstorm is brewing.

a decimated wasteland