Quotes About Despair

Tak tedy ano," pravil divoch vzdornÄ›, "požaduji právo být neÅ¡Å¥astný." "NemluvÄ› již o právu na stáÃ…â"¢í, oÅ¡klivost i impotenci; o právu na vÅ¡i; o právu na život v ustavi?ných obavách pÃ…â"¢ed zítÃ…â"¢kem; o právu dostat tyfus; o právu být mu?en nevýslovnými bolestmi vÅ¡eho druhu.

Tis like the dripping of some stagnant rain From the housetops of a ruined city Upon the flagstones. Not one petal clings Upon the stalk of life or memory. Stain Not one pale thought with blushes ; my soul's dead As a corpse flung out of the tideway on The stinking flats of London mud.

No hay felicidad o infelicidad en este mundo; solo hay comparación de un estado con otro. Solo un hombre que ha sentido la máxima desesperación es capaz de sentir la máxima felicidad. Es necesario haber deseado morir para saber lo bueno que es vivir.

Tendré que seguir lavando las calderas? ¿Tendré que seguir comiendo bambúes? Como salidas de las entrañas, las interrogaciones se apretaban, cobrando, en coro, el desgarrado gemir de los pueblos llevados al exilio para construir mausoleos, torres o interminables murallas. ¡Oh, padre, mi padre, cuan largo es el camino! ¡Oh, padre, mi padre cuan largo es el penar!

Tu eri morto – disse – e non c'era più niente di bello, al mondo.

Because despair was an excess that did not belong to him, he submitted to what was left of his life, and began again to look after it, with the unyielding tenacity of a gardener at work the morning after the storm.

Adesso non le riusciva di tornare indietro da nessuna parte, e nessun cammino pareva possibile d'altronde, senza di lui.

Ma quando ti viene quella voglia di piangere pazzesca, che proprio ti strizza tutto, che non la riesci a fermare, allora non c'è verso di spiaccicare una sola parola, ti torna tutto indietro, tutto dentro, ingoiato da quei dannati singhiozzi, naufragato nel silenzio di quelle stupide lacrime. Maledizione. Con tutto quello che uno vorrebbe dire...E invece niente, non esce fuori niente...Si può essere fatti peggio di così?

porque no hay nada en la faz de la tierra, nada que respire o camine, nada tan infeliz como lo es el hombre.

per capire cosa vuol dire che la verità si concede solo all'orrore, e che per raggiungerla abbiamo dovuto passare da questo inferno, per vederla abbiamo dovuto distruggerci l'un l'altro, per averla abbiamo dovuto diventare belve feroci, per stanarla abbiamo dovuto spezzarci di dolore. E per essere veri abbiamo dovuto morire. Perché? Perché le cose diventano vere solo nella morsa della disperazione?

Despair is the central part of the psychopathology. For the handmaiden of gossip is treachery:

I don't know, Alexander, sometimes it gets so bad you can't think of nothing better to do than make it worse.

Homelessness–it's not about not having a home. It's about something being seriously fucking wrong.

There were few other passengers: a man in an overcoat, his head sunk against his chest; a couple with arms around each other, impervious to their surroundings; and a teenage boy with a black scarf wound round his neck, Zorro-style. Isabel smiled to herself: a microcosm of our condition, she thought. Loneliness and despair; love and its self-absorption; and sixteen, which was a state all its own.

Love] may bring surprise, joy, despair and, occasionally, perfect happiness.

He knew this place, where once in sport/The flood had played and waves had bubbled,/Defiant in their fierce despair;/He knew these lions, and this square,/And him whose bronze head dominated/The darkness from its lofty height –/Whose fateful head will had on this site/Decreed a city be created.

He who has lived and thought can't help despising people in his soul; him who has felt disturbs the ghost of irrecoverable days; for him there are no more enchantments; him does the snake of memories, him does repentance bite.

El alma del que ha vivido y ha pensado no puede por menos que despreciar a la gente. A aquel que es sensible le atormenta la visión de los días irrevocables; ya no conoce el placer; la víbora del recuerdo y el arrepentimiento le consume.

I've lived to see my longings die I've lived to see my longings die: My dreams and I have grown apart; Now only sorrow haunts my eye, The wages of a bitter heart. Beneath the storms of hostile fate, My flowery wreath has faded fast; I live alone and sadly wait To see when death will come at last. Just so, when the winds in winter moan And snow descends in frigid flakes, Upon a naked branch, alone, The final leaf of summer shakes!...

What was the use of love if all it did was ruin things?

But Valentine, why despair, why always paint the future in such sombre hues? Maximilien asked. Because, my friend, I judge it by the past.

The wretched and the miserable should turn to their Savior first, yet they do not hope in Him until all other hope is exhausted.

I know what happiness and what despair are, and I never make a jest of such feelings. Take it, then, but in exchange —

His fair landlady was in despair. She would most willingly have made M. d'Artagnan her husband--such a handsome man, and such a fierce mustache!