Quotes About Desolation

Nothing is more sterile or lamentable than the man content to live within himself.

No one has a name in 'The Road.' Like Cormac McCarthy's novel from which it's adapted, 'The Road' features characters such as the man, the boy, the wife, the old man and the veteran.

The desert surrounds your every step and you walk forever a thirsty man.

Creedless shells of men tottering down the causeways like migrants in a feverland.

The fallen angel becomes a malignant devil. Yet even that enemy of God and man had friends and associates in his desolation; I am alone.

Once, he'd used it in song, but the songs in his heart had gone silent long ago, and he knew that one day so would his voice. A man with nothing inside him eventually had nothing to say.

To truly strip a man of everything, one must take away his community, money, and corrode the core of his beliefs until he is left bathed in the agony of isolation.

To truly strip a man of everything, one must take away his money, community, and the core of his beliefs until he is bathed in the agony of isolation.

By day the banished sun circles the earth like a grieving mother with a lamp.

Hell is a half-filled auditorium.

The skyScorched by the sun, WeepsFecund tears.

Home at that moment was a starless night, a steady wind, not a human to be seen.

...a man's blood soon runs cold where there is no one around to warm it up.

The day stared back an empty gray, with not a speck of white to give character to the lifeless sky.

They make a desolation and call it peace.

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.

They make a desert and call it peace.

Loneliness is an emaciation of the spirit. -Who Has Known Heights: The Mystique Memoirs of a Melancholic Mind

Living was a sad and empty thing

The destruction, it is just very heart-rendering.

Power, like a desolating pestilence, pollutes whatever it touches.

I saw bundles of dead raggedy reeds hanging down from the broken ceilings that had depicted heaven. I looked deep into the house's diseased and dying maw. It was like it had been putting on an act the whole time and was only now showing itself as it, in reality, had always been: a hollow, drafty cavern, rancid and rotting at its core.

Instantly, the black water enfolded him, cooled him to his heart, and declared, "There is no hope; there never was." The darkness was absolute, and full of the silence of a trapped scream.

The dark world seemed to lie stricken beneath the cold moon and the lidless stars.