Quotes About Despair

An intensely lonely man for whom life has not gone well - I believe this was your language.

The second you walk off down that road I'll start telling myself you're gone for good, and why wouldn't you be, and I'll start trying to hate you for it. I will hate you for it. I might even leave here entirely.

Drugs kept people alive in a realm of dreams and hope.

Ha olvidado los hechos minúsculos, idénticos, que constituían su vida, esos días que siguieron al descubrimiento de que tampoco podía confiar en su madre, pero no ha olvidado el desánimo, la amargura, el rencor, el miedo que reinaban en su corazón y que ocupaban sus noches.

Juventud, cuyo recuerdo desespera!

There are people whose deaths make you ache with sadness. And then there are people whose deaths prevent the sun from rising, deaths that turn the walls black in every room you walk through, deaths that send storm clouds and a wail swirling through your head so that you can't hear music and you can't recognize your furniture or your own face in the mirror.

To understand that you have blown it, that you can never fix it is one of the worst feelings ever.

She was lost now, she'd been silenced- another dead branch on Cordova's warped tree.

I wanted to die. Where were my parents to take me in their arms, to reassure me?

And while to this day I cannot really tell you what took place on The Mountain of Manyone Paths, I understand still that in spite of so many climbing figures on so many paths, I was alone up there. Far worse than the petrified shadows and the falling notes, the multiplications upon multiplication of my own solitude brought me rapidly to the edge of despair, which is where, quite sensibly really, I finally found The Man With No Arms.

He really did not care whether he survived or not, so long as it rendered him unconscious and absolved him of responsibility.

still, if it's hot enough I'll lie in the sun and feel at least three types of despair: despair that life is mostly gone and I've wasted it; despair that I cannot feel now what I thought I would if I saw all my struggles through; and despair that, because I don't know any other course to take, nothing will change.

Our crucial task when in pain or despair is not to let the sour feelings spill into everything, so that we stain our sense of the world. Yet we must also take care not to so contain our feelings that they fester and infect our sense of ourselves. Somewhere between these two extremes waits the life of healthy expression, not personalizing everything and not painting the world with our troubles.

So many times, in our despair, we see our pain as something that will never end. In fact, this often defines our moments of despair: when we believe that our pain contains the rest of us. In contrast, there is this sense of peace to work toward: the belief that our life contains our pain.

The writing life is punctuated by words, sentences, paragraph & pages. And by spurts of elation, inspiration, rejection & despair.

They say, Write what you know. What do you know? Love, anger, despair, enmity, fear, empathy, lust, worry, trust & more. You know life.

Las Vegas no less—the Ugly Shorts Heart of Darkness

Era mais um agente funerário do que um médico; acho que nunca consegui salvar um único paciente. Estavam em estado terminal quando eu chegava; quando muito consegui prolongar-lhes a agonia.

Suddenly, I viddied what I had to do, and what I had wanted to do, and that was to do myself in; to snuff it, to blast off for ever out of this wicked, cruel world. One moment of pain perhaps and, then, sleep forever, and ever and ever.

Go on, do me in, you bastard cowards, I don't want to live anyway, not in a stinking world like this one.' I told Dim to lay off a bit then, because it used to interest me sometimes to slooshy what some of these starry decreps had to say about life and the world. I said: 'Oh. And what's stinking about it?

Life is, of course, terrible.

Suddenly, I viddied what I had to do, and that was to do myself in; to snuff it, to blast off forever out of this wicked, cruel world. One moment of pain perhaps and, then, sleep forever, and ever and ever.

You got shook and shook till there was nothing left. You lost your name and your body and your self and you just didn't care.

It was as if Heinrich too were beckoning an old age of despair, not of premature death but of a lingering death-in-life.