Quotes About Despair

Jestem m?ody, mam dwadzie?cia lat; ale z ?ycia nie znam nic poza rozpacz?, ?mierci?, trwog? i spojeniem w jeden ?a?cuch najniedorzeczniejszej p?asko?ci z ca?? otch?ani? cierpienia.

We were eighteen and had begun to love life and the world; and we had to shoot it to pieces. The first bomb, the first explosion, burst in our hearts. We are cut off from activity, from striving, from progress. We believe in such things no longer, we believe in war.

I am young, I am twenty years old; yet I know nothing of life but despair, death, fear, and fatuous superficiality cast over an abyss of sorrow.

JesteÅ›my nikÅ'ymi pÅ'omykami, zaledwie ochranianymi sÅ'abymi Å›cianami przed nawaÅ'nicÄ… rozpadu i bezsensownoÅ›ci, w której trzepocemy siÄ™ i niekiedy prawie ?e toniemy.

Mul tuleb nõrkushoog peale ja ma tunnen äkki, et ei suuda enam. Ma ei tahagi enam sõimata, sest see on mõttetu, vaid üksnes maha kukkuda ja mitte kunagi enam tõusta.

Had we returned home in 1916, out of the suffering and the strength of our experience we might have unleashed a storm. Now if we go back we will be weary, broken, burnt out, rootless, and without hope. We will not be able to find our way any more. ==========

He is right. We are not youth any longer. We don't want to take the world by storm. We are fleeing. We fly from ourselves. From our life. We were eighteen and had begun to love life and the world; and we had to shoot it to pieces. The first bomb, the first explosion, burst in our hearts. We are cut off from activity, from striving, from progress. We believe in such things no longer, we believe in war.

Non siamo più spensierati, ma atrocemente indifferenti. Saremmo lì, nel paesaggio della nostra giovinezza, ma sapremmo viverci? Abbandonati come bambini, disillusi come anziani. Siamo rozzi, tristi, superficiali. Io penso che siamo perduti.

The cries continued, it is not men, they could not cry so terribly. 'Wounded horses', says Kat. It is is unendurable, it is the moaning of the world, it is the martyred creation, wild with anguish, filled with terror and groaning.

I hadn't failed, I had gained a second, heaven-sent life with Helen—and even the despair that had come to me and still haunted my sleep from time to time was possible only because there had been something else: Paris, Helen, and the unbelievable feeling of not being alone.

The anguish of solitude rises up in me. When Kat is taken away I will not have one friend left.

He is right. We are not youth any longer. We don't want to take the world by storm. We are fleeing. We fly from ourselves. From our life. We were eighteen and had begun to love life and the world; and we had to shoot it to pieces. The first bomb, the first explosion, burst in our hearts. We are cut off from activity, from striving, from progress. We believe in such things no more, we believe in the war.

It cannot be that it has gone, the yearning that made our blood unquiet, the unknown, the perplexing, the incoming things, the thousand faces of the future, the melodies from dreams and from books, the whispers and divination of women; it cannot be that this has vanished in bombardment, in despair, in brothels.

It's unendurable. It is the moaning of the world, it is the martyred creation, wild with anguish, filled with terror, and groaning.

Bez ljubavi smo kao leš na odsustvu.

Oricât de mult s-ar avânta fericirea noastr? spre stele È™i soare , cu oricât? beautitudine ne-am în?lÈ›a mâinele, la un moment dat fericirea È™i visul se destram? sfârÈ™itul fiind mereu acelaÈ™i:deplângem ceea ce am pierdut.

We were eighteen and had begun to love life and the world; and we had to shoot it to pieces. The first bomb, the first explosion, burst in our hearts. We are cut off from activity, from striving, from progress. We believe in such things no longer, we believe in the war.

Üçümüz de ayn? ÅŸeyi düÅŸünüyoruz: Franz Kemmerich buradan saÄŸ ç?ksa bile tek bacakl? kalaca??na göre bu çizmeler ne iÅŸe yarar?

He is right. We are not youth any longer. We don't want to take the world by storm. We are fleeing. We fly from ourselves. From our life. We were eighteen and had begun to love life and the world; and we had to shoot it to pieces. The first bomb, the first explosion, burst in our hearts. We are cut off from activity, from striving, from progress. We believe in such things no longer, we believe in the war.

Hai ragione: non siamo più giovani, non ci interessa più dare l'assalto al mondo. Siamo dei profughi, fuggiamo da noi stessi. Avevamo diciott'anni, e cominciavamo ad amare il mondo e l'esistenza: ci hanno costretti a spararle contro. La prima granata ci ha colpiti al cuore. Siamo esclusi ormai dall'attività, dal lavoro, dal progresso, non ci crediamo più. Crediamo alla guerra.

I have awaited a storm that should deliver me, pluck me away and now it has come softly, even without my knowledge. But it is here. While I was despairing, thinking everything lost, it was already quietly growing. I had thought that division was always an end. Now I know that growth also is division. And growth means relinquishing. And growth has no end.

German people, he said, would follow Hitler with absolute loyalty "provided they are allowed to have a share in the making and carrying out of decisions, provided every word of criticism is not immediately interpreted as malicious, and provided that despairing patriots are not branded as traitors." The time had come, he proclaimed, "to silence doctrinaire fanatics.

She lapsed into "melancholia," a sweet name for depression.

All the despair, terror and anguish of hundreds of souls passing into eternity composed that awful cry.