Quotes About Despair

Long have I dwelt forgotten here In pining woe and dull despair; This place of solitude and gloom Must be my dungeon and my tomb.

But is not active employment the best remedy for overwhelming sorrow—the surest antidote for despair?

A hardness such as this is taught by rough experience and despair alone

nije li marljiv rad najbolji lijek za neizmjernu tugu – najsigurniji protuotrov za o?aj?

sick of mankind and their disgusting ways...

I've reached the point where I hardly care whether I live or die. The world will keep on turning without me, I can't do anything to change events anyway.

I see the world gradually being turned into a wilderness. I hear the ever-approaching thunder, which will destroy us too. I can feel the sufferings of millions and yet, if I look up into the heavens, I think that it will all come right.

It is becoming a bad dream-- in the daytime as well as at night. I see him nearly all the time and can't get at him, I mustn't show anything, must remain gay while I'm really in despair.

I can't help telling you that I've begin to feel deserted.

I've reached the point where I hardly care whether I live or die

Time to get up time to get washed time to have lunch time to go to bed. What's the point if I never get up again what difference would it make? I might just as well be dead. You might just as well be dead. We all just as well be dead! This isn't living. This is…

I've asked myself again and again whether it wouldn't have been better if we hadn't gone into hiding, if we were dead now and didn't have to go through this misery, especially so that the others could be spared the burden. But we all shrink from this thought. We still love life, we haven't yet forgotten the voice of nature, and we keep hoping, hoping for … everything

times like these, Father, Mother and Margot don't matter to me in the least. I wander from room to room, climb up and down the stairs and feel like a songbird whose wings have been ripped off and who keeps hurling itself against the bars of its dark cage. 'Let me out, where there's fresh air and laughter!' a voice within me cries. I don't even bother to reply any more, but lie down on the divan.

I've always been the clown and mischief maker of the family; I've always had to pay double for my sins: once with scoldings and then again with my own sense of despair. I'm no longer satisfied with the meaningless affection or the supposedly serious talks.

My writing has raised me somewhat from "the depths of despair.

I've asked myself again and again whether it wouldn't have been better if we hadn't gone into hiding, if we were dead now and didn't have to go through this misery, especially so that the others could be spared the burden. But we all shrink from this thought. We still love life, we haven't yet forgotten the voice of nature, and we keep hoping, hoping for... everything.

they mustn't know my despair, I can't let them see the wounds which they have caused, I couldn't bear their sympathy and their kindhearted jokes, it would only make me want to scream all the more.

They mustn't know my despair, I can't let them see the wounds which they have caused.

wander from room to room, climb up and down the stairs and feel like a songbird whose wings have been ripped off and who keeps hurling itself against the bars of its dark cage.

As you can see, I'm currently in the middle of a depression.

I've reached the point where I hardly care whether I live or die. The world will keep on turning without me, and I can't do anything to change events anyway.

happiness, a cheerful disposition and strength. Every day I feel myself maturing, I feel liberation drawing near, I feel the beauty of nature and the goodness of the people around me. Every day I think what a fascinating and amusing adventure this is! With all that, why should I despair?

They were pale, and didn't say a word when Cady entered the room. Had they been sitting like this every night for months? Seeing all those pale and frightened faces was awful. With each bang of an outside door, a shock went through everyone in the room, as if the door to life itself were symbolically being slammed shut.

I've always had to pay double for my sins: once with scoldings and then again with my own sense of despair.