Quotes About Despair

A volte l'uomo è preso da un senso di nausea, fisica o spirituale, che lo priva di ogni volontà e determinazione e lo spinge, fiacco e allo sbando, a desiderare la morte. Allora sprofonda irresistibilmente verso la distruzione, verso un folle tuffo nel caos.

Un mundo en el que todo el mundo se suicida así: a fuego lento y arrastrando consigo a los más débiles.

Jo vair?k es vi?u ignor?ju, jo vair?k vi?? iem?l?jos. Tas bija tieši t?, k? pirm?t tev teicu, k? slim?ba. Tu jau zini, k? tas ir… Tu noš?audies. Vienreiz. Otrreiz. Tev piemetas drebu?i – un cauri. Ir jau par v?lu. Nelaime ir notikusi. Tobr?d bija tieši t?pat: es biju skarts, es biju pagalam. Vairs nebija, uz ko cer?t.

The last time she had seen him in the flesh, all the vital force of his life stripped away, his sharpened face had confronted her with such a fearful fixed finality of sightless indifference that she had been frozen in mortal terror, engulfed by abysmal despair. After all the years of unfailing support, his huge, inhuman, deaf, blind inaccessibility was horrifying. He had not kept his promise. He had abandoned her, left her to suffer alone.

Where do I always find enough courage for one last hope? I am the enemy of this indestructible, pitiless hope which prolongs and intensifies all my pain. I would like to lay hold of hope and strangle it once and for all.

Her life was shameful and lonely. There was no longer any hope for her, there was no chance of escape. Yet, in spite of her humiliation and the despair which possessed her, she still remained in some part of her soul aloof and untouched. It was the hard centre of her being which never altered. Nothing could touch that.

What can I do now? What am I to become? How can I live in this world I'm condemned to but can't endure? They couldn't stand it either, so they made a world of their own. Well, they have each other's company, and they are heroes, whereas I'm quite alone, and have none of the qualities essential to heroism - the spirit, the toughness, the dedication. I'm back where I was as a child, solitary, helpless, unwanted, frightened.

Night is the worst time, when her vitality sinks to its lowest ebb and she's frightened of everything. Unable to read or do anything else, she wanders about the house like a woman living with ghosts, who can't find the way or the will to return to the living world.

They've all been against me, ever since I can remember, even when I was six years old. What sort of human beings are these, who can be inhuman to a child of six? How can I help hating them all? Sometimes they disgust me so much that I feel I can't go on living among them - that I must escape from the loathsome creatures swarming like maggots all over the earth.

To wait - only to wait - without even the final merciful deprivation of hope. Sometimes I think that some secret court must have tried and condemned me, unheard, to this heavy sentence.

He saw the young man's face in the mirror up on the wall, he saw the thick wind-ruffled hair and the little scar on the cheekbone. The face moved in the mirror and when he looked round he could not see it anywhere in the room, and when he wanted to call out the sickness choked him, and now he tried to fight the icy sickness, but like whales the waves of it fell on him till he was pounded and drowned, and while he froze suffocating and could not move or breathe...

Hell had at least been familiar; she knew that, if she'd been capable of feeling anything, she would have felt afraid of this irresistible force that had picked her up like a scrap of paper and was sweeping her into the void, right out of the world as she knew it, as if whirling her off the earth altogether.

Since he'd gone, the world had become unnervingly strange. There was nothing she could do and nowhere she could go. She felt lost, lonely, dazed, deprived of everything, even of her identity, which was not strong enough to survive without his constant encouragement and reassurance.

I said I wanted to see her. 'You can't.' He turned the key, dropped it into his pocket, threw a pistol down on the table. 'She's dead.' A knife went through me. All other deaths in the world were outside; this one was in my body, like a bayonet, like my own.

The thing which does surprise me is my own optimism. Surely I ought to recognize now that my number is up. Where do I always find enough courage for one more last hope? I am the enemy of this indestructible, pitiless hope which prolongs and intensifies all my pain. I would like to lay hold of hope and strangle it once and for all.

LoVe!!IS liKe A dEep hOle....If U fElL iN thEres nO WaYoUt!!!!!!<3

Instead of hearing the harmony of the world, we have heard a cacophony of sounds, an unbearable static in which we try, in despair, to pick up on some quieter melody, even the weakest beat.

Despair made the deserts and hope shaped the oasis.

What shall I do, if all my love, My hopes, my toil, are cast away, And if there be no God above, To hear and bless me when I pray?

Oh, I am very weary, Though tears no longer flow My eyes are tired of weeping, My heart is sick of woe.

trapped in his own bad apple. Each morning a shock to return to the cut soul.

It was not fear of ridicule, to which everyday life as a winged red person had accommodated Geryon early in life, but this blank desertion of his own mind that threw him into despair.

Nothing is as it was before, after the screen has gone to black. Darkness lies on the soul. To use Beckett's phrase, "what cowers behind it begins to seep through." With her new shopping cart Hekabe, queen of Troy, will be prowling the aisled for dog biscuits.

Nothing is as it was before, after the screen has gone to black. Darkness lies on the soul. To use Beckett's phrase, "what cowers behind it begins to seep through." With her new shopping cart Hekabe, queen of Troy, will be prowling the aisle for dog biscuits.