Quotes About Desolate

No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees, No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds, November!

Worthless as wither'd weeds.

Here is no water but only rock.

He's just a pore lonesome wife-left fellar.

cold as a well-digger's ass in Maine.

There it was, again, that hurt in his eyes. Maybe hurt. Something. Sadness. That was it. She detested that look. He shouldn't ever feel unhappy. It was more than unhappy. Desolate, as if he was completely alone and she'd taken his last joy from him.

Her soul was poisoned soil in which nothing good could grow.

the Dead Sea valley, at more than thirteen hundred feet below sea level, was tranquil. A desolate landscape, but strangely it was where Jack felt closest to God. Not that he was deeply religious. More spiritual.

New York you forgot how cold and bleak winter could be. The neon lights, the moving crowds, the taxi-filled streets stampeded the snow into slush and the slush into gray water that quickly disappeared and you forgot about the bare, desolate ground of the outside world. The loneliness of winter. The

The Australian Outback can be quite unforgiving.

Texas is a hell hole, man. Dirt, cactus, lizards, dirt, cactus, the Bush family.

Economics is not a gay science. It is a dreary, desolate, and indeed quite abject and distressing one; what we might call, by way of eminence, the dismal science.

In this pittifull (or rather pittilesse) perplexitie stood London, forsaken like a Lover, forlorne like a widow, and disarmde of all comfort.

New Mexico was such a strange place; it was like filming on Mars.

Not merely godforsaken, I feel forsaken by everyone.

They looked ruined and decrepit, the sort of men who'd soon turn into empty chairs.

Reno, a dreary town in Nevada

I am glimmerless.

A howling corner in the winter time, a dusty corner in the summer time, an undesirable corner at the best of times.

Through the clear mirror of your eyes, Through the soft sigh of kiss to kkiss, Desolate winds assail with cries The shadowy garden where love is.

Through the clear mirror of your eyes, Through the soft sigh of kiss to kiss, Desolate winds assail with cries The shadowy garden where love is.

He reminded me now, sharply, that one of my partners had been killed on the street and that only months ago, Jacobi and I had both been shot in a desolate alley in the Tenderloin. It was true. We'd both nearly died.

No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,No comfortable feel in any member—No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds—November!

To salve the pains of consciousness, some people anesthetize themselves with sunny thoughts. But not everyone can follow their lead, above all not those who sneer at the sun and everything upon which it beats down. Their only respite is in the balm of bleakness. Disdainful of the solicitations of hope, they look for sanctuary in desolate places - a scattering of ruins in a barren locale or a rubble of words in a book where someone whispers in a dry voice, "I too am here.