Quotes About Forlorn

There was no sign of any life, just erratic hints of a faded sun peeking down with sorrow on the dead world it once nourished.

We are forlorn like children, and experienced like old men, we are crude and sorrowful and superficial – I believe we are lost.

We are burnt up by hard facts; like tradesmen we understand distinctions, and like butchers, necessities. We are no longer untroubled-- we are indifferent. We might exist there; but should we really live there? We are forlorn like children, and experienced like old men, we are crude and sorrowful and superficial-- I believe we are lost.

She supposed it had been a forlorn hope, but it was something she was very keen to know.

With their cheerless titles, who would want to read them?

The whole thing made Bill lonely as the last pig in a slaughterhouse line.

leafless trees stand atop slag heaps like skeleton hands shoved up from the underworld.

I work for the Chicago Cubs, a team with a following so loyal and adoring and a history so forlorn that we were known nationwide as the Loveable Losers.

He went like one that hath been stunn'd, And is of sense forlorn: A sadder and a wiser man He rose the morrow morn.

What the fuck are you doing," he said, "hiding away in your parents' house? You should be back here, where it's all happening! Life!" He gestured around the pub, a forlorn place with bare floorboards covered in fag ends; who knows what visions he saw in his mind.

There is no thing we cannot overcome Say not thy evil instinct is inherited, Or that some trait inborn makes thy whole life forlorn, And calls down punishment that is not merited.

In the main, ghosts are said to be forlorn and generally miserable, if not downright depressed. The jolly ghost is rare.

An empty house is like a stray dog or a body from which life has departed.

In fact the original memory of Miss Blaides returned to me one morning when I was sitting in my cream distempered, strip-lighted, bare, sanitary, glaring, forlorn little cell at the Studio. In that place it was possible to know deep despondency.

It was a house without kindness, never meant to be lived in, not a fit place for people or for love or for hope.

Her drawing conveyed a forlorn and haunting suspense, as if asking the viewer to wonder whether these creatures would still be alive when the tide came back.

leaning with her back bowed into the back of the chair, her head hanging down and her hands in her lap, very miserable as she would say herself, not even knowing what she would like, except to go out and get very wet, catch a particularly nice cold and have to go to bed and take gruel.

On a ruinous wall I came upon a poster dating from the previous year and announcing that 'six handsome bulls' would be killed in the arena on such and such a date. How forlorn its faded colours looked. Where were the handsome bulls and the handsome bull-fighters now? It appeared that even in Barcelona there were hardly any bullfights nowadays - for some reason all the best matadors were Fascists.

The thought of missing it was eased when she found a gap in the bodies and was able to see the mound of guilt, still intact. It was prodded and splashed, even spat on. It reminded her of an unpopular child, forlorn and bewildered, powerless to alter its fate. No one liked it. Head down. Hands in pockets. Forever. Amen.

Certain empty houses that seemed to stare like the faces of people suffering from terrible mental illness. An empty barn on the outskirts of town, the hayloft door swinging open and closed on rusty hinges, first disclosing darkness, then hiding it, then disclosing it again.

Han ser vad de ser. Någon som inte hör hemma här. Någon som har kommit fel. Någon som har kantrat. Som gått förlorad. Någon som lytt sitt hjärta. Sitt bedrägliga hjärta.

Everywhere I see bliss, from which I alone and irrevocably excluded.

He arrived to find that she'd left, discovering then that he was all alone. Even the birds had gone. They'd abandoned their nest on the windowsill, and he was somehow certain that they'd never come back.

A few minutes later we pulled up in front of a nondescript office building. I paid the driver and we got out. The rain had stopped but the street was empty, almost forlorn. If I hadn't known where we were, I would have thought it an odd place to get out of a cab in the middle of the night.