Quotes About Hopelessness

Cerrato said seriously that indeed sometimes things went like that, and that he would try to come up with something; but in general it was really dark all the time. You couldn't see the glimmer, you beat your head again and again against an ever lower ceiling, and ended by coming out of the cave on your hands and knees and backward, a little older than when you went in.

when the world denies us over and over, when it punishes us as it's punished you, Serwë, it becomes difficult to understand the meaning. All our pleas go unanswered. Our every trust is betrayed. Our hopes are all crushed. It seems we mean nothing to the world. And when we think we mean nothing, we begin to think we are nothing.

It smelled like Lysol and desperation.

Stay where I am? Jesus Christ, what choice do I have? This house is twenty-five hundred square feet of tomb. I'm not alive. I'm buried alive.

Nothing I could say or do would help her. Life is hard in a world gone wrong.

All junkies are nuts.

Lots of people are unable to see all kinds of truths right in front of their eyes. You can't worry about them for a minute. They're hopeless.

where the moon and stars do not exist, where the sun will never rise, where the path is ever downward, yet he descends in a desperate search, for

How unhappy does one have to be before living seems worse than dying?

And the light was gone, and the air failed them. And so they lay down in the dark to die.

I knew from the first glimpse that he was dead. But I ran to him". There was no way in which to describe his feelings, because he hadn't had any. The world had simply ceased in that moment, and with it, all his knowledge of how things were done. He simply could not see how life might continue. The first lesson of adult life was it, horribly, did.

When the heart sinks, people fall.

Let me see no more of my harsh fate: this useless struggle.

Denn heute ist ein Wort, das nur Selbstmörder verwenden dürften [...]

You're the sort of person who, on principle, no longer expects anything of anything. There are plenty, younger than you or less young, who live in the expectation of extraordinary experiences: from books, from people, from journeys, from events, from what tomorrow has in store. But not you. You know that the best you can expect is to avoid the worst.

The naked man had lost hope now; he would never be able to return to the earth's surface;he would never leave the bottom of this shaft, and he would go mad there drinking blood and eating human flesh, without ever being able to die. Up there, against the sky, there were good angels with ropes, and bad angels with grenades and rifles, and a big old man with a white beard who waved his arms but could not save him.

The Dearborn was typical of the schools in Boston's predominantly black neighborhoods, and the more Rachel saw of them, the more she despaired of her children's ever getting a decent education there. They were hardly schools at all, she thought, more like warehouses where the kids were stored for a few years, sorted, labeled, and packed for shipment to the menial, low-paying jobs at which they would be doomed to labor the rest of their lives.

I wish...I wish I were dead..." And what use would that be to anyone?

How could you believe or disbelieve anything anymore? Four maybe five million men killed and none of them wanting to die while hundreds maybe thousands were left crazy or blind or crippled and couldn't die no matter how hard they tried.

There was no safe place in all the world for me. My stomach was filled with ice water. Hearing Domini was the final straw. Something in me broke. All the King's horses and all the King's men would never be able to put me back together again.

By the tie I arrived at the clinic I was typically so demoralized I could barely stand. I was twenty-three years old and I looked like Nixon resigning the presidency.

It's hard to describe depression to someone who's never experienced it. Now I would say it's like you're in a boat on the ocean with no land in sight, and the ocean is made of pain. You don't want to dip your oar in the water, because you'll splash yourself and be in even more agony than you are already. So you sit and do nothing. And then the boat starts to leak.

You try to make the world a better place and what does it get you? I mean, Christ, how the hell does one man stand a chance against four billion assholes?

Self-criticism can sometimes motivate our performance when we criticize ourselves for particular actions rather than for deep-seated tendencies. But unless carefully managed and contained, self-criticism can become a form of inner-directed virtue signaling. It projects toughness and ambition, but often leads to rumination and hopelessness instead of productive action.