Quotes About Desolation

Alone, alone, all, all alone, Alone on a wide, wide sea.

As a remedy to life in society, I would suggest the big city. Nowadays it is the only desert within our reach.

Oh, the long and dreary Winter! Oh, the cold and cruel Winter!

Cuervos sobre la llanura sembrada de muertos, como en las viejas baladas.

?esto sjedim sate i sate i gledam u hladne jesenje boje. Mir sudbine koja se više ne da promijeniti ledi mi se na duši i licu. Sve je u meni mrtvo; tako mi je dobro. Ne dopire do mene zvuk, umro mi je o?inji vid. Sve je ostalo za velikom kapijom koja se zatvorila muklo za mnom. Izgubio sam sve i nisam više ?ovjek nego nemirna besana misao koja je potonula i pri?utala se na dubokom dnu, a nada mnom su kao neprozirne zelene mase voda, mir, daljina i zaborav

lice pobjednika je kao ruža, ali lice pobje?enoga je kao grobljanska zemlja, od koje svatko bježi i glavu okre?e.

she had nothing now that the fantasy was gone.

So he left, and found no passion, and returned to nothing at all.

Why do people live in places like this? There's nothing here. You see all that sky?" she asked Roarke. "You shouldn't be able to see that much sky from down here. It can't be good for you.

His mouth opens. From inside him comes a slow stream, without breath, without interruption. It flows up through his body and out upon me; it passes through the cabin, through the wreck; washing the cliffs and shores of the island, it runs northward and southward to the ends of the earth. Soft and cold, dark and unending, it beats against my eyelids, against the skin of my face.

And what is the upshot of this lack of heat, this lack of heart? The upshot is that he is sitting alone on a Sunday afternoon in an upstairs room in a house in the depths of the Berkshire countryside, with crows cawing in the fields and a grey mist hanging overhead, playing chess with himself, growing old, waiting for evening to fall so that he can with a good conscience fry his sausages and bread for supper.

The trees were like black skeletons reaching to the sky, pleading with their bony arms for the sun to get stronger.

His heart was as empty as her stare.

Butch let his head fall loose on his shoulders and he wept openly… though not out of happiness, as they must have assumed. He wept at the hollowness he felt. Because however wonderful this all was, it seemed empty to him. Without his mate to share his life with, he was but a screen for events and circumstances to pass through. He was not even empty, for he was no vessel to hold even the thinnest of air. He lived, though was not truly alive.

The Abandoned Valley Can you understand being alone so long you would go out in the middle of the night and put a bucket into the well so you could feel something down there tug at the other end of the rope?

Lonely as America, a throatpierced sound in the night.

I first met Dean not long after my wife and I split up. I had just gotten over a serious illness that I won't bother to talk about, except it had something to do with the miserably weary split-up and my feeling that everything was dead.

Everything'll be all right, desolation is desolation everywhere and desolation is all we got and desolation aint so bad

Mad raging sunsets poured in seafoams of cloud through unimaginable crags, with every rose tint of hope beyond, I felt just like it, brilliant and bleak beyond words. Everywhere awful ice fields and snow straws; one blade of grass jiggling in the winds of infinity, anchored to a rock. To the East, it was gray; to the north, awful; to the west, raging mad, hard iron fools wrestling in the groomian gloom; to the south, my father's mist.

I suddenly saw the little hobo standing under a sad street lamp with his thumb stuck out--poor forlorn man, poor lost sometime boy, now broken ghost of the penniless wilds.

Alzo gli occhi, ecco lì le stelle, sempre le stesse, desolazione, e sotto gli angeli che non sanno di essere angeli. E Sarina morirà. Ed io morirò, e voi morirete, e tutti moriremo e persino le stelle si spegneranno una dopo l'altra con l'andar del tempo

A peaceful sorrow at home is the best I'll ever be able to offer the world, in the end, and so I told my desolation angels goodbye. A new life for me.

I don't know when we'll meet again or what'll happen in the future, but Desolation, Desolation, I owe so much to Desolation, thank you forever for guiding me to the place where I learned all. Now comes the sadness of coming back to cities and I've grown two months older and there's all that humanity of bars and burlesque shows and gritty love, all upsidedown in the void God bless them, but Japhy you and me forever we know, O ever youthful, O ever weeping.

We went to Old Bull Lee's house outside town near the river levee. It was on a road that ran across a swampy field. The house was a dilapidated old heap with sagging porches running around and weeping willows in the yard; the grass was a yard high, old fences leaned, old barns collapsed. There was no one in sight. We pulled right into the yard and saw washtubs on the back porch. I got out and went to the screen door.