Quotes About Hopelessness

don't even know why I do what I do. How can I know what other people's true purposes are? There's no hope

There is no Mystery so great as Misery.

This is a terrible place to die in. Where's a good one?

Where in this pukehole can a man get a drink? he said

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

With the final onset of dark the iron cold locked down and the boy by now was shuddering violently. No moon rose beyond the murk and there was nowhere to go.

Your old man called me. He wanted you to call home. People in hell want ice water.

She asked the girl what she wanted to be when she grew up and she said dead.

My guess is that you can only be so happy. While there seems to be no floor to sorrow. Each deeper misery being a state heretofore unimagined. Each suggestive of worse to come.

Now come days of begging, days of theft. Days of riding where there rode no soul save he.

He is sinking into a darkness he cannot even comprehend. Darkness and immobilizing cold.

There are no absolutes in human misery, and things can always get worse.

They have become so lost in their own darkness that they see nothing but darkness in everything.

So you're lost, uh? Happens a lot out here. You walk around for days, seeing things, losing your bearings, crying out for God, But He can't hear you. You can scream and scream but nobody'll ever hear you.

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.

She felt weak and utterly forlorn. She wished some help would come from outside. But in the whole world there was no help.

she seemed so like a wet rag that would never dry.

And then, he was not there. A terrible storm came over her, as if she were drowning. She was possessed by a devastating hopelessness. And she approached mechanically to the altar. Never had she known such a pang of utter and final hopelessness. It was beyond death, so utterly null, desert.

Though assailed by hopelessness I was not afraid.

Ain't no Jesus in Snowtown, Detective.

The current antidote for rural despair, he thought, crack cocaine and liquor.

When he stood up, he felt in his pockets for money. There wasn't a bill. In a vest-pocket he found four nickels, that was all. He wasn't surprised—nothing about money could surprise him any more. Apparently he was supposed to go on losing it and losing it and losing it every time he got his hands on some. He looked around for his hat. "Where's my hat?

Was this what he had been seeking? He had reached the point where always there was only one thing: drink, and more drink, till amnesty came; and tomorrow, drink again.

Boy, you couldn't pour pee out of a boot with instructions on the heel.