Quotes About Desolation

There's a bitter cold in me, a cold which comes from a distant land. And nothing ever really makes it warm. You knew of this cold. You tried a thousand times to melt it, and transform it to something more brilliant, but you never succeeded.

I wanted none of it finally. And, deserving nothing better, I closed up like a spider in the flame of a match. And even Armand who was my constant companion, and my only companion, existed at a great distance from me, beyond that veil which separated me from all living things, a veil which was a form of shroud.

His mind was horrifyingly empty and still; and he felt the loneliness and the stillness of the rooms completely.

I felt I saw an escape from desolation, only it was cold and dark, this escape, and it led by twists and turns into a world of eternal darkness where the raw earth gave the only smell to one's hands, one's skin, one's clothes.

and sometimes I can't reach for any knowledge that I ought to possess. I feel desolate, but then knowledge returns or I seek it out in a new source.

Knowledge drifts in and out of my mind," said Lestat with a little look of honest distress and a shake of his head. "I devour it and then I lose it and sometimes I can't reach for any knowledge that I ought to possess. I feel desolate, but then knowledge returns or I seek it out in a new source.

I devour it and then I lose it and sometims I can't reach for any knowledge that I ought to possess. I feel desolate, but th knowledge returns or I seek it out in a new source.

nights, world without end, night curving into night to make a great arching line of which I couldn't see the end, a night in which I roamed alone under cold, mindless stars.

Ma la bambina, quell'antica bambina, la mia Claudia, era cenere. Un urlo crebbe dentro di me, un selvaggio e devastante urlo che veniva dalle viscere del mio essere; si alzava come il vento che faceva turbinare la pioggia su quelle ceneri, che batteva sull'impronta di una mano, sui mattoni, che sollevava quei capelli biondi.

Suppose now, not to give them flour, lard. Just dead inside

White blossomed magnolias and cheery songbirds avoided the Red District of Hallden, as had prosperity and hope.

The world in which I found myself was horrifying. In that world, people fought with sharpened rasp files, ate dogs, covered their faces with tattoos and sodomized goats. In that world, people killed for a package of tea.

If, like the Romans, he must make a desert and call it peace, so be it.

As I write this it sounds rather negative and hard but I do not mean it to be so. Happiness grounded in reality is far deeper than that built upon fantasy, and suffering teaches one that happiness can catch a person unawares in the midst of deprivation and desolation. There is a certain stripping away of the externals which makes one more sensitive to joy as well as to sorrow.

But mostly it feels sad, often hopeless, and hot with loneliness.

Even the devil may cry when he looks around hell and realizes that he's there alone.

Even the Devil may cry when he looks around Hell and realizes he's alone.

This world we exist in is populated by people who have really shut themselves off from life.

Life's bare as a bone.

Una guerra no sólo mata a unos cuantos miles o a unos cuantos cientos de miles de jóvenes. Mata algo en la gente que no puede recuperarse nunca. Y si alguien pasa por suficientes guerras, pronto todo lo que queda es el bruto, la criatura que nosotros —usted y yo, y otros como nosotros— han sacado del fango».

I didn't ask any questions. Everything I wanted to know was written in tortured phrases across the desolation of her face.

I think we are just insects, we live a bit and then die and that's the lot. There's no mercy in things. There's not even a Great Beyond. There's nothing.

what is the meaning of La Belle Dame Sans Merci? - have you never been enthralled? enchantment that is unrequited desolates the soul...

nobody ever takes from the desert anything but aridity and monsters...