Quotes About Despair

When I had tried to stop previously there were weeks of dark depression. There would be odd days when I was comparatively cheerful but the next day I would invariably sink back into the misery and depression. It was like clawing your way out of a slippery pit—you feel that you are nearing the top; you can see the sunshine—and then find yourself sliding back down again.

Millions of fathers in rain Millions of mothers in pain Millions of brothers in woe Millions of sisters nowhere to go Millions of daughters walk in the mud Millions of children wash in the flood A million girls vomit and groan Millions of families hopeless alone

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked... who wandered around and around at midnight in the railroad yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts...

Scream in despair over Meat and Metal Microphone

Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time! Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!

She was so alone. Dead to the world. No one to love. No one who loved her.

Un animal rabioso que nos ataca produce terror. Un hombre que nos persigue, nos aterra. Una habitación vacía, una calle vacía, la nada que sigue a nuestra muerte o la muerte de quienes amamos, nos angustía, no hay objeto, no hay nada; angustia.

That is the worst thing about despair: it is not constant, any more than love is.

O God! what a thing it is to be a ghost, cowering and shivering in an altered world, a prey to apprehension and despair!

PATIENCE, n. A minor form of despair, disguised as a virtue.

Heaven is a prophecy uttered by the lips of despair, but Hell is an inference from analogy.

Pardon me," said Glokta, wiping his running eye with a finger, "but I spent two years in the Emperor's prisons. I daresay, if I had known I'd be there half that long at the start, I would have made a more concerted effort to kill myself. Seven hundred days, give or take, in the darkness. As close to hell, I would have thought, as a living man can go. My point is this – if you mean to upset me, you'll need more than harsh language.

The Forest that had been about her all her life, certain as a mountain, was made ashes. The high gable that had stood for two hundred years fallen in ruin. Throvenland was torn apart like smoke on the wind. Nowhere would be safe, ever again.

Pardon me,' said Glokta, wiping his running eye with a finger, 'but I spent two years in the Emperor's prisons. I daresay, if I had known I'd be there half that long at the start, I would have made a more concerted effort to kill myself.

It was a place of wild abandon, wild hope, wild despair, everything at extremes and nothing in moderation, dreams trodden into the muck and new ones sucked from bottles to be vomited up and trodden down in turn. A place where the strange was commonplace and the ordinary bizarre, and death might be along tomorrow so you'd best have all your fun today.

Oh well," sighed Glokta. "A man has to have hope doesn't he?" "Of course sir," muttered the servant, heading for the door. Does he?

People love to see death. It reminds them that however mean, however low, however horrible their lives become . . . at least they have one.' Glokta

Because he'd been hoping... perhaps he still was. But hoping had made a fool of him. And Shivers was good and sick of looking the fool.

If anyone had asked him, Clover would've said there was less than no chance this'd be settled with talk. But you never realise how much hope you're holding till it gets knifed and thrown off a roof.

Maybe she had found everything the world had to offer her: a notion very like despair.

He felt he was being swept away, not just from his life but from God, the idea of God, or hope, or reason, the idea that things made sense, that cause followed effect, and it ought not to be like this, Ig felt, death ought not to be like this, even for sinners. He

The enthusiasm, the swell of sweet courage he heard in her voice, filled him with Seattle-grunge levels of despair.

The projects looked like a place where dreams went to commit suicide and hope got screwed in the ass.

The whole thing made Bill lonely as the last pig in a slaughterhouse line.