Quotes About Despair

only a complete alcoholic can think life is funny ... any life! ...

Frankly, just between you and me, I'm ending up even worse than I started...

He couldn't have explained this misery of his, it exceeded his education.

I was a hundred-percent sick, I felt as if I had no further use for my legs, they just hung over the edge of my bed like unimportant and rather ridiculous objects.

That's the hatred that kills you. There'll be more of it, so deep and thick there will always be some left, enough to go around...it will ooze out over the earth...and poison it, so nothing will grow but viciousness, among the dead, among men.

A time comes when you're all alone, when you've come to the end of everything that can happen to you. It's the end of the world. Even grief, your own grief, doesn't answer you anymore, and you have to retrace your steps, to go back among people, it makes no difference who. You're not choosy at times like that, because even to weep you have to go back where everything starts all over, back among people. "What

Autant pas se faire d'illusions, les gens n'ont rien à se dire, ils ne se parlent que de leurs peines à eux chacun, c'est entendu. Chacun pour soi, la terre pour tous.

That street was like a dismal gash, endless, with us at the bottom of it, filling it from side to side, advancing from sorrow to sorrow, toward an end that is never in sight, the end of all the streets in the world.

I tried to gauge the degree of hopelessness to which I had fallen. I couldn't.

Her kentte böyle yerler vard?r iÅŸte, o kadar sersemce çirkindirler ki, orada hemen her zaman yaln?zs?n?zd?r

Garibanlar asla, ya da neredeyse hiç sormazlar, katland?klar? ÅŸeylerin nedenini niçinini. Birbirlerinden nefret etmekle yetinirler, o kadar

We people are just worms on top of it, worms on its fat, revolting carcass, eating its entrails and all its poisons … Nothing can help us, we were born rotten … There you have it!

My mother would offer a selection of his watercolors to the peddlers at lunch hour ... She did all she could to keep me alive, I just shouldn't have been born.

Dès que dans l'existence ça va un tout petit peu mieux, on ne pense plus qu'aux saloperies.

Why kid ourselves, people have nothing to say to one another, they all talk about their own troubles and nothing else. Each man for himself, the earth for us all. They try to unload their unhappiness on someone else when making love, they do their damnedest, but it doesn't work, they keep it all, and then they start all over again, trying to find a place for it.

I clung to the movies with a fervour born of despair.

They die of love—inside. After

Me abruma la miseria humana, ya sea física o moral. Siempre existió, está bien; pero en los viejos tiempos se ofrecía a un Dios, cualquiera. Hoy, en el mundo, hay millones de personas indigentes, y su angustia ya no va a ninguna parte. Nuestro tiempo, además, es un tiempo de miseria sin arte, es lamentable. El hombre está desnudo, despojado de todo, incluso de la fe en sí mismo

Then you're not coming? You'd rather go to the pen? Okay! . . . You don't care if I turn you in? ... You don't care if I love you or not? . . . You don't care about my future? You don't care about anything, do you? . . ." No, he says. In a way you're right . . . But it's not just you ... I don't care about anyone else either . . . Christ, don't take it as an insult! ... I know you're a sweet kid . . . But I don't want to be loved anymore ... It disgusts me! . . .

Zemlja je mrtva... A mi smo samo crvi na njoj, crvi na njenom velikom lešu, koji sve vreme žderu njena creva i njene otrove... Ništa ne može da bude od nas. Truli smo od ro?enja... I eto, tako je to!

La mayoría de la gente no muere hasta el último momento; otros empiezan veinte años antes y a veces más. Son los desgraciados de la tierra.

I'd never felt so useless as I did amid all those bullets in the sunlight. A vast and universal mockery.

Odande se svejedno povratih žalostan put Vignyja, misle?i o tome kako mi svi ti ljudi, te stvari, te prljave i sumorne ku?e više uop?e ništa ne kazuju, onako izravno u srce kao neko?, pa da ni ja sam, koliko sam god možda djelovao poput lisca, nemam više dovoljno snage, osje?ao sam to dobro, da idem još dalje, tako, posve sam.

I treated despair in terms of hierarchy: if there was a more important pain in the world, it meant my own was negated. I thought I simply had to accept the fact that I was ugly, and that to feel despair about it was simply wrong.