Quotes About Desolation

A Better Resurrection I have no wit, I have no words, no tears; My heart within me like a stone Is numbed too much for hopes or fears; Look right, look left, I dwell alone; A lift mine eyes, but dimmed with grief No everlasting hills I see; My life is like the falling leaf; O Jesus, quicken me.

My drink was wet and depressing. Each time I took another sip it tasted more and more like dead water

I saw the days of the year stretching ahead like a series of bright, white boxes, and separating one box from another was sleep, like a black shade. Only for me, the long perspective of shades that set off one box from the next had suddenly snapped up, and I could see day after day after day glaring ahead of me like a white, broad infinitely desolate avenue.

bare trees with black clots of rookeries

Jilted My thoughts are crabbed and sallow, My tears like vinegar, Or the bitter blinking yellow Of an acetic star. Tonight the caustic wind, love, Gossips late and soon, And I wear the wry-faced pucker of The sour lemon moon. While like an early summer plum, Puny, green, and tart, Droops upon its wizened stem My lean, unripened heart.

Last summer's reeds are all engraved in ice as is your image in my eye; dry frost glazes the window of my hurt; what solace can be struck from rock to make heart's waste grow green again? Who'd walk in this bleak place?

Descend lower, descend only Into the world of perpetual solitude, World not world, but that which is not world, Internal darkness, deprivation And destitution of all property, Desiccation of the world of sense, Evacuation of the world of fancy, Inoperancy of the world of spirit;

We are the hollow men We are the stuffed men

A heap of broken images, where the sun beats, And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, And the dry stone no sound of water. Only There is shadow under this red rock, (Come in under the shadow of this red rock), And I will show you something different from either Your shadow at morning striding behind you Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you; I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

I should have been a pair of ragged claws/ Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

Here is no water but only rock Rock and no water and the sandy road

I can show you fear in a handful of dust

I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, Looking into the heart of light, the silence. Oed' und leer das Meer.

Oed' und leer das Meer.

This is the dead land This is cactus land Here the stone images Are raised

I am the old house With the noxious smell and the sorrow before morning, In which all past is present, all degradation Is unredeemable.

It's just ordinary hopelessness.

I can't believe there's a prison anywhere out here,' Blaine said, turning the engine off. 'It's the middle of nowhere.

Heavenly streams poured down, piercing the snow. It looked like someone had punctured it and blackened it with stone nails. The earth showed through in some places. Last year's rubbish surfaced on all the streets, in all the yards.

They were hardly fit for life, much less the forests. And yet they would likely defile the lakes, ravage the forests, and plant their desert wheat. These were the people of the colored forest gone amuck. The walking dead. Better buried at the base of a cliff than

The stone bench is gray. The grass is gray. My life is dirty gray

There are cities that are damned for some people by the mere fact that they seem created to close off the distances that are the only reason for living.

I felt in complicity with the tendency of this country to absolute desolation.

Perhaps this is what the stories meant when they called somebody heartsick. Your heart and your stomach and your whole insides felt hollow and empty and aching.