Quotes About Desolation

No help or hope of help existed.

But for pain words are lacking. There should be cries, cracks, fissures, whiteness passing over chintz covers, interference with the sense of time, of space; the sense also of extreme fixity in passing objects; and sounds very remote and then very close; flesh being gashed and blood spurting, a joint suddenly twisted - beneath all of which appears something very important, yet remote, to be just held in solitude.

My heart currently resembles the ashes of my cigarettes.

We ain't popular--we sit in corners and look like mutes who are longing for a funeral.

So we went to the Zoo; & I daresay I could write something interesting about that--a pale stone desert given over to charwomen & decorators: a few bears, a mandrill, & a fox or two--all in the desolation of depression.

The house was left; the house was deserted. It was left like a shell on a sandhill to fill with dry salt grains now that life had left it.

But the room was empty. The fire was still blazing; the chairs, drawn out in a circle, still seemed to hold the skeleton of the party in their empty arms.

I was always lonely and I am lonely still.

Nothing happened--or perhaps everything happened, and his destiny simply forked at that instant, as it probably does sometimes at night, especially in a strange bed, at stages of great happiness or great desolation, when we happen to die in our sleep, but continue our normal existence, with no perceptible break in the faked serialization, on the following, neatly prepared morning, with a spurious past discreetly but firmly attached behind.

You just wouldn't be happy until I had to drag my ass up here to this godforsaken icebox that is. Gotta tell you I'm feelin' some hate here my man. Or I would be if I could actually feel anything other than Arctic cold gnawing at my vitals.

Then think of fire, It's laughter, the music of splintering beams and glass, The flames reaching through the second story of a house almost as if to -mistakenly- rescue someone who left you years ago. It is so American, fire. So like us. It's desolation. And it's eventual, brief triumph.

Hell didn't burn. And the only devils to be found were the ones you find on earth, and there were too many of those, and they looked like everybody else. Hell, though. Hell was empty. Hell was nowhere. A dead silent plain of echoes and dust and empty arms rocking. Of dead boys shot down over vast, cold oceans. Where people didn't even care enough about you to hate you. Where the people who'd promised to love you forgot your name. Hell was cold. The coldest place in the universe.

Because I know more and more that this glass here is so very dark, that this really is a long loneliness, that it is both lonely and long.

YOU WILL DIE OF SUFFOCATION IN THE ICY COLD OF SPACE.

Stuart Weintraub was not only without Chloe, but also without sad Stuart eyes!

She did not even have words, only a feeling, a terrible hollow feeling, as if everything inside her had been scooped out raw.

All she has left are things unwanted, things unloved.

They seemed so bare, so empty. Like a face without features. He

Kuruyan bir deniz gibiyim bazan. Y?ld?zlar? sönmü? bir gök gibiyim. ?ncilerimi sokakta da??tt?m. Kendimi öylesine verdim ki sana, kelimeler beni terkettiler.

Ah ternyata hatimu yang tak memberi. Mampus kau dimakan sepi

I am a solitary wave in the dark and desolate sea: and the sparkling glass I drank was drugged with misery.

I am a cemetery by the moon unblessed.

I felt like crying but nothing came out. it was just a sort of sad sickness, sick sad, when you can't feel any worse. I think you know it. I think everybody knows it now and then. but I think I have known it pretty often, too often.

We don't build the ruins. Our soul is in hate. (On ne construit des ruines. - Notre âme est dans la haine.)