Quotes About Desolation

The city was like a fish dying on hard pavement, hopelessly gasping for air.

I had so much. I felt so sad.

I have many times asked myself whether there can be more potent advocates of peace upon earth through the years to come than this massed multitude of silent witnesses to the desolation of war.

Jake was close to tears. In that moment he saw the world in its true light, as a place where nothing had ever been any good and nothing of significance done: no art worth a second look, no philosophy of the slightest appositeness, no law but served the state, no history that gave an inkling of how it had been and what had happened. And no love, only egotism, infatuation and lust.

Ocurre de vez en cuando: se te viene encima un gran vacío, es como si la misma falta de sentido de la existencia se te metiera dentro y se extendiera como un inmenso y desnudo paisaje.

And there's nobody there. But

Los dioses se alejan cada día un poco más en sus cielos. El hombre se queda solo, a merced de un mundo en revolución. Las líneas que Jaynes escribe sobre este período son muy bellas. En ellas percibimos el eco del célebre lamento [Tablilla «Ludlul bel nemeqi», figura 19]: Mi dios me abandonó y desapareció. Mi diosa me visita con menos frecuencia y se mantiene distante. El ángel bueno que caminaba a mi lado se fue…

Oh could I feel as I have felt,-or be what I have been, Or weep as I could once have wept, o'er many a vanish'd scene; As springs in deserts found seem sweet, all brackish though they be, So midst the wither'd waste of life, those tears would flow to me.

Behold, in yon stripped Autumn, shivering gray, Earth knows no desolation, She smells regeneration In the moist breath of decay.

Yet even so the darkness thickened, until it covered his eyes and filled his nose and stopped his ears, so he could not see or smell or hear or run, and the grey cliffs were gone and the dead horse was gone and his brother was gone and all was black and still and black and cold and black and dead and black…

I take no joy in mead nor meat, and song and laughter have become suspicious strangers to me. I am a creature of grief and dust and bitter longings. There is an empty place within me where my heart was once.

And all was black and still, and black and cold, and black and dead, and black.

It is always winter now.

Wherever she looked, she saw fires. They covered the earth like fallen stars, and like the stars there was no end to them.

I am a creature of grief and dust and utter longings. There is an empty place within me where my heart was once.

In the cool weak light the nightflames all had died, and the silent streets echoed death and desolation. Worlorn's day. Yet it was twilight.

Gaunt men with sunken eyes squatted amidst sand and stones, shitting out their lives in stinking streams of brown and red.

She could feel the hole inside her where her heart had been.

I am a hollow shell, the crab's died, there's nothing left inside. Don't they know that?

No one discovers the depths of his own loneliness.

No wonder simple men have always had their gods dwell in the high places. For as soon as a man lets his eye drop from the heavens to the horizon, he risks setting it on some scene of desolation.

By the waters of Babylon we sat down and wept, Remembering thee.

There are people who have an appetite for grief; pleasure is not strong enough and they crave pain. They have mithridatic stomachs which must be fed on poisoned bread, natures so doomed that no prosperity can sooth their ragged and dishevelled desolation.

People in big empty places are likely to behave very much as the gods did on Olympus.