Quotes About Despair

But me, maybe I fit in a place like this. Maybe the cold inside of me will seem less cold in this winter. Maybe the tall buildings will make the brick walls I build for myself seem smaller. Maybe the noises in my head will quiet down in the middle of all the other noises. Or maybe my cold and walls and noise will get worse.

One: See the two of them everywhere. Contemplate suicide. Would it seem too tourist-y to jump off the Eiffel Tower?

end of this painful story: a man possessed and maddened enough to write such letters, and a bereaved father receiving them, until at last he reached the point at which he refused to read any more.

Julia looked back at Hadassah on the bloodstained sand. A great emptiness opened within her as she looked at the still form. Gone, too, was the salt that had kept her from completely corruption.

loved her, Lord. I loved her enough to die for her, and she did this to me. Maybe she's beyond redemption. How do you forgive someone who doesn't even care enough to want to be forgiven?

Oh, God, I can't hope for anything. I can't. I won't survive if I do.

It was time to lie down and die.

Insanity is something like drowning,' said Sparrow. 'You go under; you flounder without direction;

Humans are always most lonely.

Death and deceit are our only hopes now.

For now is my grief heavier than the sands of the seas

Gregor's glance then turned to the window. The dreary weather—the rain drops were falling audibly down on the metal window ledge—made him quite melancholy.

I have shown him that a man without hope is a man without fear.

I stood leaning on the gates of hell with a cigarette in my mouth, and some trees were on fire and they resembled lilies in their white eternal flames, and I knew it appeared to the others that I was callously watching the world unravel.

Prayer is the most powerful resource we have in this life; yet, many only turn to it as a last resort. When unbelievers pray for repentance of sin and ask for God's forgiveness, prayer is the spiritual dynamite that obliterates the darkness and despair of a sin-soaked soul.

I do not speak as I think, I do not think as I should, and so it all goes on in helpless darkness.

One of the first signs of the beginning of understanding is the wish to die. This life appears unbearable, another unattainable. One is no longer ashamed of wanting to die; one asks to be moved from the old cell, which one hates, to a new one, which one willl only in time come to hate. In this there is also a residue of belief that during the move the master will chance to come along the corridor, look at the prisoner and say: This man is not to be locked up again, He is to come with me.

April 27. Incapable of living with people, of speaking. Complete immersion in myself, thinking of myself. Apathetic, witless, fearful. I have nothing to say to anyone - never.

People label themselves with all sorts of adjectives. I can only pronounce myself as 'nauseatingly miserable beyond repair'.

It would have been so pointless to kill himself that, even if he had wanted to, the pointlessness would have made him unable.

What am I doing here in this endless winter?

The books we need are of the kind that act upon us like a misfortune, that makes us suffer like the death of someone we love more than ourselves, that make us feel as though we were on the verge of suicide, lost in a forest remote from all human habitation.

Anyone who cannot cope with life while he is alive needs one hand to ward off a little his despair over his fate...but with his other hand he can jot down what he sees among the ruins, for he sees different and more things than the others; after all, he is dead in his own lifetime and the real survivor.

2 November. This morning, for the first time in a long time, the joy again of imagining a knife twisted in my heart.