Quotes About Hopelessness

El remordimiento anulaba cualquier esperanza. Era el autor de males irremediables, y vivía bajo el constante terror de que el monstruo que había creado cometiera otra nueva maldad.

Thus not the tenderness of friendship, nor the beauty of earth, nor of heaven, could redeem my soul from woe; the very accents of love were ineffectual. I was encompassed by a cloud which no beneficial influence could penetrate. The wounded deer dragging its fainting limbs to some untrodden brake, there to gaze upon the arrow which had pierced it, and to die, was but a type of me.

Non v'è nulla di più doloroso per l'animo umano di quella calma mortale che segue alla grande agitazione di sensazioni e sentimenti provocata da una rapida successione di eventi, quel misto d'impotenza e rassegnazione che si produce quando al cuore mancano sia la speranza che il timore.

I shrink into myself in despair at my nothingness.

I am, by a course of strange events, become the most miserable of mortals. Persecuted and tortured as I am and have been, can death be any evil to me?

Nothing is more painful to the human mind than after the feelings have been worked up by a quick succession of events, the dead calmness of inaction and certainty which follows and deprives the soul both of hope and fear.

And so here I am ! I continue to exist—to see one day succeed the other ; to dread night, but more to dread morning, and hail another cheerless day.

People who struggle with overwhelming emotions often feel vulnerable. At any point, the smallest trigger can lead to a tidal wave of emotions that leaves them feeling confused, angry, alone, hopeless, and in pain.

And so I sit on the dunes in my carefully mismatched clothes, hour after hour, day after day, frozen in my looking back. 'Do not look behind you...lest you be swept away.' That is what scripture say. Only there is nowhere for me to look but back. No future. No redemption. Like Lot's wife, I am turned to salt, my tired eyes trained on the blue-gray horizon, where sea meets sky, where my yesterday's met my tomorrows, a ragtag eccentric, watching and waiting for something that never comes.

The dads at home drinking beer in their underwear, the moms at the grocery with their SNAP coupons. The army recruiters in shiny gold buttons come to harvest their jackpot of hopeless futures.

Everything that could be taken is gone. Mountains left with their heads blown off, rivers running black. My people are dead of trying, or headed that way, addicted as we are to keeping ourselves alive. There's no more blood here to give, just war wounds. Madness. A world of pain, looking to be killed.

My people are dead of trying, or headed that way, addicted as we are to keeping ourselves alive. There's no more blood here to give, just war wounds. Madness. A world of pain, looking to be killed.

The owner of a coffee shop sat diminished in the back of his deserted establishment, waiting for patronage that had long since vanished.

How awful is it to be dead? It would be better to be the lowest, most impoverished, slave-driven nobody on earth than to be the king of the dead in gloomy Hades. And there is no turning back and no way to improve one's lot. That is the fate of virtually all who die.

The children of blame are cynicism and hopelessness.

The children of blame are cynicism and hopelessness. When we succumb to believing that we are victims of our circumstances and yield to the plight of determinism, we lose hope, we lose drive, and we settle into resignation and stagnation.

Show me someone who is humble enough to accept and take responsibility for his or her circumstances and courageous enough to take whatever initiative is necessary to creatively work his or her way through or around these challenges, and I'll show you the supreme power of choice. Hopelessness.

There's a hole in the world like a big black pit who are filled with people who are filled with shit.

Love is a sickness full of woes, all remedies refusing.

Love is bitter and all there is, and that the rest is for the emotional beggars of the earth.

And all the time she felt the reflection of his hopelessness in her. She couldn't quite, quite love in hoplessness. And he, being hopeless, couldn't ever love at all.

I would have told her then she was the only thing that I could love in this dying world but the simple word "love" itself already died and went away.

The Opera was a very cold film, a hopeless and dark film, no hope, no love.

we are increasingly falling prey to the desperation of meaninglessness,