Quotes About Despair

The gospel of Jesus is not a rational concept to be explained in a theory of salvation, but a story about God's presence in Jesus' solidarity with the oppressed, which led to his death on the cross. What is redemptive is the faith that God snatches victory out of defeat, life out of death, and hope out of despair.

To hope for nothing, to expect nothing, to demand nothing. This is analytical despair.

Their crowing and the vapors of the hot sauce helped clear enough room in my head to think about out what I had to do. Planning my day was a way of not giving into despair. It really is not possible to pay attention fully to two things at once. For instance: carpentry and suicide.

What a sight the poor make in the moonlight!

I saw my face today And it looked older, Without the warmth of wisdom Or the softness Born of pain and waiting. The dreams were gone from my eyes, Hope lost in hollowness On my cheeks, A finger of death Pulling at my jaws. So I did my push-ups And wondered if I'd ever find you, To see my face With friendlier eyes than mine.

I felt defeated and dismayed. I trusted nobody, and I felt impotent-not only in the sexual sense.

Remember why the Sith are more powerful than the Jedi, Sidious: because we are not afraid to feel. We embrace the spectrum of emotions, from the heights of transcendent joy to the depths of hatred and despair. Fearless, we welcome whatever paths the dark side sets us on, and whatever destiny it lays out for us.

Fairy_26 told me Guy Boy Man has a prayer: "God, The world sucks; It's a real mess; Nobody can fix it; It's hopeless; Thanks a lot; Amen.

I feel like, like pudding," Iggy groaned. "Pudding with nerve endings. Pudding in great pain.

For imagine having somebody beside you day and night loving you and forgiving you and petting you forever and ever, that must be a better description of hell than being put into a boiling lake or cauldron of ice that burnt your black.

And between them, the little shoe-box glistening with scarlet wallpaper and gilt like a fairy coffin. Inside it, there was the crabbed corpse of a still-born child wreathed in bloody newspaper. "I hated you so much," she said softly.

Grief was not a stream. It was an ocean.

Drug addicts are so funny that way. Just spinning around, lost in their own little world. Doing so much, accomplishing so little.

Drug addicts are so funny that way. Just spinning around, lost in their own little world. Doing so much, accomplishing so little. How sad.

Cruel as death, and hungry as the grave.

And what would I do ? Part of me was immobile, stunned with despair, like those rats that lose hope in laboratory experiments and lie down in the maze to starve.

still when I lost her I lost sight of any landmark that might have led me someplace happier

El amor es un maestro cruel y terrible. Uno pierde su yo en favor del otro, pero al hacerlo se esclaviza y se convierte en un desdichado.

E talvez seja ridículo continuar nesse raciocínio, embora não importe já que ninguém nunca vai ver isso, mas será que faz algum sentido saber que acaba mal pra todo mundo, até para os mais felizes de nós, e que todos perdemos tudo o que importa no final, e ao mesmo tempo saber que, apesar de tudo isso, segundo a cruel elaboração do jogo, é possível jogá-lo com uma espécie de alegria?

Ninguém nunca, jamais, vai conseguir me convencer de que a vida é uma coisa incrível e gratificante. Porque, esta é a verdade: a vida é catástrofe.

A stereotyped but unconscious despair is concealed even under what are called the games and amusements of mankind." What would Thoreau have made of Las Vegas: its lights and rackets, its trash and daydreams, its projections and hollow façades?

the fuck-up from which I would never recover.

At this question, I felt a sharp rush of despair - for as bad as I felt there was nothing he could do for me, and from his face, I realized he knew that, too.

Sometimes, during the course of the listless day (dazed hours on the sofa, paging dully through the Encyclopaedia Britannica) these thoughts struck Harriet with such fresh force that she crawled in the closet and closed the door and cried, cried with her face in the taffeta skirts of her mother's dusty old party dresses, sick with the certainty that what she felt was never going to get anything but worse.