Quotes About Desolation

The Opera was a very cold film, a hopeless and dark film, no hope, no love.

No one to love, none to caress, Left all alone in this world's wilderness.

You're thinking about one woman while trying to reach another, and despite this apparent abundance of women, you feel lonely and desolate as hell, and, almost unconsciously, you drive to the house of a third, and the third woman is your mother. It has to be unconscious, because conscious, you'd know right away that it's a big mistake. Somewhere, there's a therapist sitting alone in his office, staring wistfully at his door, wishing for a patient like you.

There was no one to call, no friends who weren't also connected to Jen. I thought about calling my mother, but my father was in a coma and she had enough to deal with. *My life was in a free fall, and there was nowhere to turn. A cold sense of desolation lodged itself somewhere in the base of my throat, and suddenly I was no longer enraged or devastated, but terrified of the immense, throbbing loneliness that was only now closing like a vise on my internal organs.*

Me siento tan sola que si tuviera lágrimas lloraría.

In no time, you find yourself left without civilization.

Silence had blown its empty wind over Manila and everything seemed to sleep in the arms of nothingness.

But his soul was mad. Being alone in the wilderness, it had looked within itself and, by heavens I tell you, it had gone mad.

Windows were broken. Where not broken they were boarded up, had been for years: the rust from nailheads had written long, sad farewells down the salt-silvered planks.

In the stinking dark forest of splintery posts under the pier lay pizza tins, beer cans, cigarette wrappers, condoms—the joyless detritus of American joy.

Misery crouches beside me, ever larger and ever gentler; pain takes an interest, becomes huge and kind; terror flutters up, and it doesn't even frighten me anymore. And that'a the most desolate thing of all.

We call that person who has lost his father, an orphan and a widower that man who has lost his wife. But that man who has known the immense unhappiness of losing a friend, by what name do we call him? Here every language is silent and holds its peace in impotence.

We lived in the Portland Avenue Stacks, a sprawling hive of discolored tin shoeboxes rusting on the shores of I-40, just west of Oklahoma City's decaying skyscraper core.

If there was a bright center to the universe, I was on the planet it was farthest from. Please pass the blue milk, Aunt Beru.

The sight suddenly drove home the fantastic isolation of the place.

Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mineThere fell thy shadow, Cynara! thy breath was shedUpon my soul between the kisses and the wine;And I was desolate and sick of an old passion,Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head:I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.

Lo más impresionante de aquellos días, y más todavía de aquellas noches, era la soledad, el profundo sentimiento de soledad, de aislamiento, de saberse sin ningún habitante a quién sabe cuántos kilómetros a la redonda;

He realized the shipwreck had already happened and that he was floating on a raft of ruins.

Il mio lutto per lui è una pozza d'acqua marina prosciugata. Tra gli scogli resta il sale asciutto, dei singhiozzi a secco.

Lion. He told me of the wreck, and of the oil, stranded in the white wastes, and of its worth. I thought

There was no sound anywhere. No twitter of wakening birds in the gum trees, no bleat from the sandy paddocks, no low of far-off cattle. Silence - the frightful silence of Drought that has killed all life and now broods over the place aghast at her own handiwork.

We've worn our words to death, when now I say: my love, nothing happens, absolutely nothing. And yet, before the words were spent, I'm certain that everything trembled at the mere murmur of your name in the silence of my heart. Now we have nothing to give. There is nothing within you that asks me for water. The past is useless as a rag. And I've told you already: the words are spent. Good-bye.

The words seemed so ridiculous. Only the flies benefited.

21This is exactly the message of GOD that Jeremiah had preached: the desolate land put to an extended sabbath rest, a seventy-year Sabbath rest making up for all the unkept Sabbaths.